“His name is Doctor Satan and he’s a notorious criminal. He’s not the actual Lucifer from the Bible, but he’s as close as a mortal man can be.”
From behind them came a series of deafening booms. Max bent over the actress, shielding her with his body as flaming wreckage began to fall around them. The force of the explosion churned up the waters so badly that it felt as if the motorboat might capsize. The vessel managed to ride it out, however.
“I think we’re okay,” Max said, leaning back.
Marlena swallowed hard, staring at the flaming wreckage that lay behind them. “My God. Roddy was working with criminals… I almost can’t believe it.”
“It’s true. Much of his success came from their assistance, and he’d sold his soul long ago in order to achieve his wealth.” The Peregrine spotted the shoreline in the distance and angled the boat’s progress towards it. “That book you saw Doctor Satan take contains the address of a bank, where an ancient artifact is stored in a safe deposit box. Doctor Satan is working hand-in-glove with a group called the Illuminati. If I don’t find a way to stop them, a lot more people than just your Roddy’s going to end up dead.”
Marlena looked away, feeling like she’d just stumbled into another world, one filled with dangerous men and tremendous evil. She felt extremely grateful that her excursion into this awful reality would be short-lived.
For the Peregrine, however, it was a way of life.
CHAPTER III
Satan’s Tablet
Miami, 9:40 P.M.
The First National Bank of Miami was locked up tight, but that did little to stop the crimson-cloaked Doctor Satan from entering the building. His diabolical henchmen had dispatched the lone security guard with vicious ease and were now loitering about in the public area of the bank, delighting themselves in smashing various items and equipment.
Satan himself strode towards the locked safety deposit boxes. The information in Roderick Flynn’s notebook had led him here, where an ancient Mayan tablet was safely stored away. This particular tablet contained information on how to bring about the end of the world… and more specifically, how to
restart
the world, with the user controlling the way the new reality unfolded. In other worlds, it allowed the user to become God.
Doctor Satan located the proper box and slid it free of its holding cell. He then dropped acid in the lock mechanism, causing it to open at his touch. Inside lay the tablet, a circular stone with etchings upon it. A small note was attached to the stone, written in Flynn’s own hand. It read: PLEASE DON’T USE THIS. IT’S WRONG.
Satan shook his head, amazed at the way men lost their thirst for power once they’d found love. Women had a way of making even the strongest of men stumble about like an idiot. Had Satan been capable of love, he would have scorned it regardless.
Doctor Satan’s past and true name were unknown even to the most in-depth intelligence agencies. The two men who most frequently fought him—the psychic detective Ascott Keane and the masked vigilante the Peregrine—had tried in vain to uncover the origins of Doctor Satan. It seemed as if he’d stepped full-blown into the world, a figure of remarkable cruelty and intelligence.
The sound of clapping hands froze Satan in place as he lifted the tablet from the box. He looked over his shoulder to see a familiar face: Jon Lindsley III, one of the primary movers and shakers inside the Illuminati organization. He was a handsome man in his early forties who always dressed to the nines. “Bravo, Doctor Satan. Bravo.”
Satan slipped the tablet into the folds of his cloak and turned to face the new arrival. “Lindsley. What a surprise.”
“I’m sure it is.” Lindsley walked towards the masked villain, his smile showing nothing but disgust. “I dealt with your men outside. Freaks and mental aberrations, the both of them. How can you stand surrounding yourself with people like that?”
“They’re loyal.”
“I’m sure they are.” Lindsley held out a hand. “It’s been a profitable partnership between our organization and yours. As per our agreement, it’s now time to turn over the Mayan tablet. In exchange, we’ll see to it that you’ll receive enough money to fund all your future exploits.”
Satan made no move to turn over the tablet. From beneath his hood, his eyes flashed angrily. “I wasn’t told the full story about this tablet when I helped you and Flynn locate it. That money you’re offering me does no good if you plan to destroy the world and remake it in your own image.”
Lindsley laughed then and his voice echoed in the empty bank. “Your problem is you’re too impatient, Doctor. I suspect that’s why Keane and the Peregrine are always able to stop you: because unlike the families who make up the Illuminati, you don’t understand the virtue of allowing time to pass before jumping in with both feet.”
“Explain,” Satan demanded, feeling slightly off-kilter. Had he missed something, after all? Or was Lindsley simply tweaking him in anticipation of another betrayal?
“If you’d bothered reading up on the tablet fully, you’d realize that the words cannot be spoken before a specific date. December 21, 2012. That’s the end of the world. The words on the tablet don’t
cause
the end of the world… they just allow you to be the one to determine what shape it takes next.”
“You’re just holding on to it, then, for the next seventy years or so? Satan asked in disbelief.
“Yes. And when the time is right, perhaps my children or their children will get to profit from it.” Lindsley glanced down at his empty hand. “Now hand it over.”
Satan nodded, seeming to realize that he was, to some degree, beaten. Holding on to a rock for six or seven decades didn’t seem to fit with his plan to take over the world in his own lifetime. Lindsley smirked as Satan reached into his cloak and began to remove something.
But it wasn’t the tablet that emerged. Satan drew a knife which he drove into Lindsley’s hand. The man started to scream but the villain moved quickly, moving the blade to the fellow’s throat and slicing it from ear to ear. To make sure that Lindsley didn’t live long enough to tell anyone what had happened, Satan finished him off with several more thrusts of the knife.
Doctor Satan took a moment to collect the drops of blood that dotted the blade’s surface. The blood of the violently murdered had great mystical power and Satan was always on the lookout for new weapons to add to his arsenal.
The villain then moved to the door and listened intently. He could hear the other Illuminati who had accompanied Lindsley moving about and he thought about simply killing them, but decided in the end to escape and leave them alive. Let them go back to their other masters and tell them how easily Lindsley was murdered… it might convince the organization to avoid Satan in the future.
CHAPTER IV
Old Foes, Reunited
Doctor Satan crept out of the bank and moved towards a darkened alleyway nearby. He was already preparing a spell that would take him from this city and deposit back in Louisiana, where his most recent lair was located. He wasn’t at all concerned with the henchmen he was leaving behind—they’d either find a way back to him or they would be replaced. It was really that simple.
The villain retrieved the tablet from his cloak and stared at it for a moment. Had Lindsley been telling him the truth? Was it useless until 2012? Or was he simply trying to persuade Satan into giving up the artifact?
“Doesn’t look like it’s worth killing a man over,” a familiar voice said from above.
Satan frowned in annoyance. He’d been snuck up on…
again
. That sort of sloppiness would get him killed eventually.
The villain looked up to see the Peregrine crouching on the rooftop’s edge. He held a glowing yellow dagger in one hand, part of a set that Satan knew well: the Knives of Elohim. Satan himself possessed one of the blades, which had all been dipped in the blood of Christ, making them powerful mystic weapons. “How did you find me?” Satan inquired, curious despite himself.
“I put in a call to Ascott Keane. He was able to track you down using a spell of his own.” The Peregrine pointed the Knife of Elohim at Satan. “So what does that rock of yours do?”
“It’s the key to controlling the next world,” Satan answered honestly, a sneer forming on his lips. “This one’s days are numbered, you see.” The villain chuckled. “It must be galling to you, having to turn to Keane for help when you could have once found me yourself.”
Max didn’t take that particular bait. He knew that Satan was trying to needle him, reminding him that it was the villain who had once stolen Max’s mental powers from him. In truth, Max didn’t miss his old precognitive and telekinetic abilities in the least. But there was no need for him to thank Satan for the “favor,” Max decided.
The Peregrine jumped from his perch and landed nimbly near Doctor Satan. “I’m taking you in,” he said simply.
“I don’t think so. Better men than you have tried, after all.”
The Peregrine moved forward, the knife sweeping towards Satan in a blur. The blade slashed through the crimson cloak that Satan wore but missed his flesh.
The criminal mastermind responded in kind, kicking out with a boot. He caught the Peregrine in the knee and drove the hero back. Satan then reached into his cloak and grabbed a small red-tinged leather bag. He threw its contents at the Peregrine, a fine powder catching Peregrine in the eyes. The burning sensation was intense and nearly made him cry out in pain.
Doctor Satan slammed a fist into Max’s head, knocking the Peregrine against a wall. “It’s time to end our little feud,” the villain declared, the tablet still clutched in one hand.
The Peregrine used Satan’s voice to place him and he struck out with the knife. The blade passed deeply into the killer’s midsection, drawing blood and causing Doctor Satan to roar in agony. Dipped as it was in the blood of Christ, the Knife now had the ability to inflict tremendous harm to supernaturally powered entities, a classification that included Doctor Satan.
Satan jerked away, pulling free of the blade. He placed both hands over the wound, losing his grip on the tablet. It landed hard on the ground and was then kicked out into the street by the blind Peregrine. Satan cursed under his breath as he watched the tablet slip down a storm drain.
“You idiot!” he bellowed. He drew his own knife but found himself forced into a defensive stance by the wildly slashing Peregrine.
“I must have done better than I thought to tick you off so badly,” Max grinned. The pain in his eyes was still intense, but he was fighting through it and was beginning to get his eyesight back again.
Doctor Satan turned and made to flee, but he skidded to a stop when he saw a well-dressed man with thin features and intelligent eyes. “My night just keeps getting worse,” Satan declared.
Ascott Keane smiled wanly as the Peregrine grabbed Satan from behind. He uttered a quick spell that muted Satan’s words, both to make the next few hours more pleasant and to keep the villain from casting any verbal spells of his own.
“You’re going to prison,” the Peregrine promised, whispering in Satan’s ear. “And you’d better stay there, or the next time we meet I’m going to kill you.”
Satan grinned at that, but because of Keane’s spell he was unable to respond with words.
Down in the sewers of Miami, meanwhile, the Mayan tablet slowly floated away, in the murky darkness.
CHAPTER V
Interlude
2012
The images faded, leaving Ian Morris with a look of consternation. “That didn’t help me at all,” he lamented, examining Catalyst’s stoic reaction. “So there’s a tablet out there that could help remake the world, but it does nothing to stop the end from coming. It just reshapes what happens next.”
Catalyst nodded sagely. “Things are not always clear at first glance,” he said, which only prompted the Peregrine to grunt in annoyance.
“That vision not only didn’t answer my questions about the end of the world, it didn’t even teach me any valuable lessons. That wasn’t the end of Doctor Satan—he wasn’t dealt with for the final time until the early 1960s!”
Catalyst heard the heat in the Peregrine’s voice but didn’t respond in kind. He kept his own words level and controlled. “There are two more visions you must see; the next is in 1967, during the time when William Davies was operating as the Peregrine.”
Despite himself, Ian found himself being drawn back into the storyline that Catalyst was weaving. Ian was a student of the Peregrine legacy and he mentally put down markers so he could guess what was going on at this time. “He’d been the Peregrine for about six years by then, but he was starting to go off the rails. He moved to Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco and fell into a psychedelic funk. He burned his draft card and went deep underground, not even answering to his birth name for a few years. He was simply the Peregrine. Let his hair grow out but still wore the standard get-up that his father had made famous, though he added a peace symbol button to the lapel.”
Catalyst stared off into space as images began to swirl again on the tabletop. “He was a good man, William… In the end, he became too disillusioned with both himself and the world around him. He began to wonder if he was an agent of change or just another fascist with a gun.”
Ian looked at the images taking shape and leaned in closer. He’d read everything there was about the Peregrine of the sixties but to actually
see
him… despite his annoyance at how things were proceeding, he couldn’t turn down this opportunity.
Catalyst spoke as the images took solid form. “All of you have had differing strengths and weaknesses.”
“You’ve known all the Peregrines?”
“Oh, yes. In my line of work, it’s hard to avoid them.” Catalyst closed his eyes for a moment. “After Rachel—my wife—died, Max became a very close friend of mine. And I knew William very well… Emma and I never bonded, but we were professional with each other.”
“How do you think I compare to them?” Ian asked, unable to resist.
Catalyst looked at him archly. “Oh… well, you… you’ll be the greatest of them.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“None of them will make the sacrifices you will.” Catalyst turned back to the images and Ian did the same, though a cold chill now ran down his spine.