Doctor Fate

Before there was such a thing as time, there was only Balance. With the manifestation of the Presence and the ultimate creation of all that is and ever will be became the end of True Balance after the unfortunate circumstances of the Original Sin.

From the ashes of an infinite past of Pure Balance rose Chaos and Order.

For thousands upon thousands of years, Chaos and Order conflicted for a seeming eternity for control over the reestablishment of a True Balance.

The coming of the Twentieth Century signified the Age of the Kali Yuga, the fourth and final stage of mankind, which ushered toward the end of the individual forces of Chaos and Order, integrating their opposite essences into a collective force for Balance.

Since the dissolution of Chaos and Order, the forces of either side have lain dormant within the aspects of Balance, forever teetering along the narrow point of Perfect Balance.

Chaos has become Order.

Order has become Chaos.

What was once cosmically and eternally ‘Good’ and ‘Evil’ are now cosmically and eternally neutral.

Now that the Kali Yuga has come and passed, the Balance over the dormancy of Chaos and Order has become tenuous and the future of the possibility of Perfect Balance becomes more questionable with every passing second.

The miscellaneous components of Chaos and Order have always been kept in check.

Until now…

Dr. Fate arrived minutes too late into the expanse of the darkened museum courtyard. The only light was from the infernal fires that sparkled with the presence of his escaped prey. He cursed an ancient curse that he had no idea of its meaning, only that it befit the role of one such as Dr. Fate.

The fires originated from the coals within a soiled clay barrel, its age unknown through the sands of time. Its purpose was clear. Something had been summoned. From the looks of the surroundings, the summoned had left no survivors. Three museum guards were spread across the floor, their faces burned from their skulls. Two others recently deceased wore ritualistic headdresses and garments, a fact that did not defer them safe passage upon the arrival of that which they had summoned.

Dr. Fate was clearly upset. The Orb of Nabu, the all-seeing crystal of incredible clarity, had been discovered to be unreliable. It did not work correctly for Dr. Fate. Nabu was not helping Dr. Fate as he should. It had only informed him of the disturbance after it had happened. This was not acceptable to one who works as Dr. Fate must work.

By merely waving his hand, Fate formed an ethereal tether from the burning embers that stretched into the night sky, delineating the trajectory of his opponent’s escape. Without wasting further time, Fate took to the air, refraining from using any of Nabu’s sacred curses to acknowledge his failure.

Dr. Fate was distracted by the whisperings of his internal mentor. Nabu always muttered into Fate’s head. It was meant to be helpful; the human beneath the Helm was but a conduit for the Lord of Order within the vestments. What it actually seemed to be was an annoyance that prevented the full capabilities of the mystic from being fully utilized. The man inside the blue and golden costume tried to ignore it. He did not embrace the hold of Nabu, therefore he was that much less.

“Quiet, old wizard,” Dr. Fate demanded aloud. “You fail to help despite your apparent omniscience. I will take care of this myself.”

“You do not understand, Hector Hall,” Nabu’s bodiless voice proclaimed within Fate’s head. “With the return of Totec comes something far worse.”

“I am Dr. Fate, Nabu,” Dr. Fate declared. “I will defeat Totec in spite of you.”

“It is not wise to ignore my words, human,” Nabu warned. “I shall not lose another host because of your arrogance.”

“Then shut up and let me do my job,” Dr. Fate said as he followed the eldritch trail toward his ultimate goal.

Dr. Benjamin Stoner hated his job. Once he was a man of concern, love and outstanding compassion. His soul felt such compassion for his fellow man that it broke his mind, leaving his psyche open for domination.

It was then that Typhon, Lord of Chaos, sank his vicious existence into the man that once was Dr. Benjamin Stoner.

Once the Director of Counseling at the infamous Arkham Asylum, Dr. Stoner had now been reduced to commonplace psychological practices. All the while, he yearned for the return of the grip of Chaos upon his restless and damned soul.

He had even seen the true face of God and witnessed firsthand the purity and love of the Presence and still he wished to be engulfed in Chaos.

Endless hours of marriage advice and repressed memory hypnosis only strengthened his contempt for his life and his general hatred of all humanity as well.

"How does that make you feel?" he asked, not even really listening.

"Like a terrible husband," the man on the couch wept, "like I don't deserve a family as good as the one I’ve got."

"And what can you do about it?" Stoner's automatic response to almost anything any of his patients could ever say.

"Maybe I should leave them. They'd all be better off without me," the man said, wet faced with his own tears.

Dr. Stoner remained silent. His patient, of course, believed him to be pondering a solution to all of the problems set before him. In this case, the patient could have never been more wrong.

Dr. Stoner looked down the slope of his abnormally large hawkish nose at his notepad. Horrendous doodles of nightmarish monstrosities dominated the page and Pagan verse lined the margins.

It wasn't long ago that he had all the power in the world. He effortlessly killed Batman and Green Lantern with but a single thought and inattentive gesture. He controlled the mantle of Dr. Fate and he would have destroyed all of humanity if not for the intervention of the despicable Nabu.

"Have you ever contemplated a psychopathic killing spree, Mr. Ritchie?" Dr. Stoner asked, his grinning mouth shadowed by his large nose. "I ask you this because that's what listening to your non-stop crap makes me want to do."

Mr. Ritchie leaned forward on the couch, surprised by his doctor's words. "What do you mean?" was what he said as he stammered for a response, unprepared to hear such harsh words from someone he was paying to listen.

"Oh, this isn't therapy through abuse, Mr. Ritchie. I believe you have shattered my fragile psyche through your incessant pouting and I think that I'm going to have to start killing people," Dr. Stoner stated in a therapeutic manner, never shifting from his previous ‘doctoral’ tone.

Mr. Ritchie got up from his seat full of confusion, his eyes raced around the room to assure the existence of a nearby exit. "Have you gone nuts? You shouldn't talk to a guy like that!"

"Nuts, I would have to say, is exactly where I have gone, Mr. Ritchie," Dr. Stoner said as he rose to his feet. A familiar feeling brushed against his mind as he pondered advancing upon his patient. "You, on the other hand, are going somewhere else completely."

The light was sucked from the room as Dr. Stoner moved toward Mr. Ritchie in a fluid and horrifying motion. Blinded from confusion, Mr. Ritchie felt the unimaginable touch of Chaos upon his body throughout his entire nervous system.

The darkness and confusion continued chaotically until Mr. Ritchie found himself airborne, falling twelve stories to his death.

Dr. Stoner straightened his tie and stretched the muscles in his neck, assessing the shattered window in his office. His ominous grin was unchanged; his eyes were as black as the Balance before Creation.

"I heard some commotion," a woman's voice muttered from behind Dr. Stoner. "Is everything alright, Doctor Stoner?"

Dr. Stoner turned to smile at his secretary to assure to her that everything was as it was before yet everything was now different again at long last.

"Everything is fine, Susan," Dr. Stoner answered her concern, his voice remaining unchanged from the tone he used with his late patient. "Everything will always be fine now, Susan." The secretary smiled at the doctor.

"Typhon would be very proud of you, Dr. Stoner," she said.

"I know he will be, Susan. He will be very proud."

Dr. Fate was preoccupied with his internal voice when Totec advanced, faster than humanly possible. Which was easy for one such as Totec, inhuman in every respect.

“You will learn, Nabu-worm, that a Chaos Lord such as I cannot stay from this plane forever,” Totec growled, an abhorrent noise of grinding stone. He was a giant man of rock and granite instead of flesh.

The Chaos Lord smashed his mighty fists into Fate’s back as he flew, sending him to the ground with great force. The impact shattered the small house that Fate landed onto, leaving the mage within its basement to return to clarity and overcome his surprise.

“The one you face is known as Malferrazae,” Nabu whispered. “Worshipped by the Aztecs as the bringer of the sun. He was imprisoned when the Conquistadors and the destruction of Tenochtitlan annihilated his followers. He plans to bring about the Fifth Epoch.”

“I do not care for its history,” Dr. Fate said. “Only for its defeat.”

“Hector, be forewarned,” Nabu muttered, his voice not as strong or disruptive as before. “I feel something horrible looming. It bids ill.”

Ignoring the words, Dr. Fate launched into the air directly at Totec, or Malferrazae as Nabu had called him. The Chaos Lord was waiting for him, a great stone shield blocked Fate’s bolts of energy. Fate swerved to avoid a collision and turned gracefully in the sky to face his enemy head on. Totec let out a gravelly laugh.

“Four times was the earth destroyed and born anew,” the thing said. “It is destined to happen once more. I was stopped before. I shall not be stopped again.”

“Yes,” Dr. Fate announced as he raised his hands to the heavens. “You will.”

Without warning and with an eerie absence of any sound, Totec was hit full force with a burning asteroid of cold fire. It had shot from a hole in the sky, transported from the depths of space into the chest of the earthbound frame of the Lord of Chaos. The asteroid smashed Totec to the ground, obliterating everything upon impact. Making haste, Fate hurried to the impact site to finish off his opponent. As the cloud of dirt and soot began to settle, Fate knew that his enemy had been subdued.

Malferrazae had been reduced to a cold statue once again, lifeless and defeated. Dr. Fate stood victorious over the statue, his golden helm glistening in the pale glow of the moon and the shimmer of the destruction brought about by the asteroid’s impact. With a final movement of the fingers on his right hand, Fate obliterated the motionless statue to rid the possibility of it ever returning to threaten the life upon this plane again.

“That is how you do it, Nabu,” Fate said to himself. Surprisingly, Nabu did not reply. For the first time since Hector Hall had become Dr. Fate, Nabu was silent. Instantly concerned, Dr. Fate rushed to return to his Tower.

The world that is occupied by Nabu the Wise within Dr. Fate’s helmet is indescribable. There is no such thing as color and no way to envision shape or distance. Nabu does not exist in a physical sense but is something that transcends form and visual comprehension.

He is a Lord of Order exiled by his fellow Lords to a non-existent universe within the helmet that rests in the power of young Hector Hall.

If such a thing as sound existed where Nabu abided, he would hear the curdling voice of an unwelcome intruder.

If such a thing as light were possible, Nabu would see the shapeless form of an unexpected interloper.

If words could be spoken, Nabu would call out the trespasser’s name.

If fear was something that Nabu possessed, he would never have shown it. But before he had a chance to understand the nature of his visitor, he was erased as if he never himself existed, joining the concepts of color, light, shape, distance, sound and voice on the list of things that do not exist within Dr. Fate’s helmet.

Typhon had taken over.

Jack Small was a regular defense attorney once. His rail thin physique and his thick-lensed glasses never betrayed his lack of social skills and his taste in clothes rivaled that of history's most un-hip fashion ignorant momma's boy. He lived a regular and outstandingly boring life until he ran across the path of Dr. Fate. He has since proved to live a life that was anything but regular.

Living ten minutes from the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, Jack Small attended every Cardinals game he could. He brought along his companion Petey as often as possible.

Petey was a small, shape-changing demon that was trapped on Earth through the bungling sorceries of a moronic wannabe warlock. Eternally speaking in an annoyingly exaggerated Yiddish accent, Petey was forever at his buddy Jack Small's side.

Since the deaths of Eric and Linda Strauss, the second Dr. Fate, Jack and Petey's life had returned to a makeshift facsimile of normal. Generally unaware of the existence of a new Dr. Fate, the two companions were content to live the rest of their days away from the calamities and insanities that were predominant during their brief tenure as friends of a former Lord of Order.

Neither knew that their lives were to once again be thrust out of their control by learning of their shared destiny and their unbreakable link to the legacy of Dr. Fate.

Jack got home unusually late. Petey had managed to microwave a frozen pizza for himself and unclog the toilet when it overflowed. Such was now the life of the pair.

"Vhy vere you so late tonight, Jack?" Petey asked as Jack took off his unstylish jacket. "You pick up a hot voman to mate vit' you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it, Petey," Jack responded as he sank into his favorite recliner that pointed perfectly toward the television.

"You vant I should heat up some lasagna for you? You look like you could use some."

"Whatever," Jack replied as he took off his glasses to rub his aching eyes.

Petey left for the kitchen as Jack tended to his own inner turmoil. Jack continued massaging his eye sockets until they started to burn and then he yawned.

He leaned back in his chair to apply maximum recline to his recliner. It was then that he noticed the strange woman in the room with him that was not there before. Jack Small screamed like a little girl.

Petey heard the feminine squeal and dropped the lasagna tray on the floor. He rushed into the living room to investigate the source.

He saw Jack rolled into the fetal position on the floor in the far corner and the ghostly image of a beautiful woman floating in front of the television, obstructing the view of the ten o'clock news.

"Vhat the--?!" Petey shrieked as he immediately considered joining Jack in the corner.

The spectral woman turned to Petey and began to speak.

"You must help us…"

"Find Dr. Fate…"

"We cannot awaken…"

As Petey and Jack wrestled for comprehension, she disappeared as instantly as she arrived, leaving nothing to confirm her appearance or assure the two witnesses of their sanity.

"Did she say 'Dr. Fate'?" Jack asked, his head peaking over his knees. "I think she said 'Dr. Fate."

"Vhat does it all mean?"

"I really hope she didn't say 'Dr. Fate.'"

Petey approached Jack to assist him up from his fetal position, smiling literally from ear to humorously demonic ear. "Looks like ve're in for a little adventure, Jackie. Let's go find Dr. Fate." Jack started crying.

Doctor Fate appeared within the corridors of the familiar brownstone that served as headquarters for the Justice Society of America. He had come to this very spot every day for weeks now, hoping that every time would be his last. He came to visit his wife.

Alone within the hallway, Fate took off his helmet and watched it melt into nothingness, going to wherever it went when not in use. He rubbed his chin and noticed two days of scruff. He rubbed the skin of his face and the stubble disappeared, leaving him clean-shaven. Now, in his opinion suitable to see his wife, he entered into medical chamber.

Dr. Mid-Nite, Fate’s ally within the JSA and the physician overlooking the condition of his wife, turned immediately to greet Dr. Fate. He gave him a half smile that always indicated a lack of change in the woman that rested peacefully on the gurney at the center of the room.

“Good morning, Hector,” Mid-Nite greeted as he moved to turn on the light. Due to Mid-Nite’s blindness, he always worked in pitch darkness.

“Any new developments?” Hector asked, hoping for something positive.

“I’m afraid not,” Mid-Nite replied. “She hasn’t responded to anything that I’ve tried. I’m still at a loss pertaining to her condition. She should be awake but she isn’t.”

Hector frowned, as he always did. He touched the soft skin of his wife’s hand and let out a defeated sigh. He then came to a decision.

“I’m taking her with me,” he announced as he clasped her hand within his own. He turned to Mid-Nite, suddenly angered. “I am resigning my position within the JSA immediately and will not return until my wife is as she should be.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mid-Nite said as he put his hand on Fate’s shoulder to calm his fury. “She needs constant observation and advanced medical equipment.”

Hector remained adamant as his helmet formed around his head. “You have not been able to help me,” Dr. Fate stated, the hollowness of his voice completely different from the voice of the human within. “I have other avenues to explore. Possibilities that you could not understand. I will not give up.”

Dr. Mid-Nite decided not to argue, it would bear no good. “I understand,” he said. “Do what you have to do.”

“I am,” Dr. Fate replied. “And I will.” With that, he shimmered into oblivion, his wife in his arms. Without Nabu to goad him into inactivity, Dr. Fate did what must be done. He was finally taking matters into his own hands.

To Be Continued...

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