:from the Chronicles of Purgatory Station
Scott William Foley
Earlier today I witnessed something I thought I would never see, and that was the end of the Nether Man. More unbelievable is the fact that Pastor Irons played a role in stopping the behemoth. Of course, without the man called Freedom and his heir apparent, Anthem, the rock man would likely have run his course and re-entered the sea, only to terrorize my city again.
Freedom seemed to be the sort of man I can respect. The pawn called Anthem … quite the opposite. I don’t know what Freedom’s situation is just yet, but it’s obvious he’s detached himself from government control. I wish I could say that’s a bad thing, but when you’ve been in the game for twenty-two years, you discover not all evil walks in the form of living rock or creates portals into nothingness. Some evils wear tights, some wear ties, and some wear stripes. Not just of the jail variety, either.
This Freedom has been at it publicly for a few years. He’s proven himself time and time again. He is a good candidate. Technologically produced flight, low-caliber bulletproof skin, very high intellect, and more importantly, a moral heart in his chest. Could be perfect.
This brings me to Shadow Serpent. I found another of his victims tonight. I arrived first on the scene. Female. Caucasian. Brown eyes and hair. Estimated at five feet, three inches and around one hundred and thirty pounds. Late thirties. Body found in an alley off O’Neil. Nothing stolen from her person. Other than four puncture wounds to the stomach, no trauma to the body. Death, as usual, by injection of an indeterminate poison. Until I acquire a sample of a victim’s blood, or the perpetrator himself, the toxin will remain unknown.
Makes the Shadow Serpent’s body count 52 in nineteen months of known activity. I can detect no method to his routes or choices in victims.
I hate to admit it, but I may not be enough to stop him. He has eluded me since I focused my efforts on him thirteen months ago, when it became evident the PSPD could not stop him. I arrogantly thought the Nocturnal Knight, as the media long ago dubbed me, would succeed where they failed, as has previously been the case so often.
A task force dedicated to stopping the serial murderer grows more imperative with every new victim.
The Shadow Serpent claimed another victim tonight. Male. Hispanic. Late teens. Approximately five feet, eight inches. One hundred and sixty five pounds. Brown eyes, yellow and blue highlights to his hair. Two puncture wounds in his forehead. As usual, no witnesses. Body found in a parking garage, top floor. Nothing stolen from person. No trauma to body other than holes. Makes 53 in nineteen months.
I called it in and then departed the crime scene after uncovering no external evidence. As I jumped the ledge, I noticed a silhouette on the above building. I knew it wasn’t my prey for two reasons: someone still living has never seen him, and the figure was that of a female. Even so, I don’t like being seen, either. I would know my observer. What I found disturbed me greatly.
She called herself “Devil Woman.” Strictly unprofessional. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for women bringing down MegaMals. Oime, if she didn’t hate me, would be a candidate in a heartbeat, and she’s as female as they come. This “Devil Woman,” however, did not hear me approach from behind. She didn’t even know I neared until I tapped her on the shoulder. I’ll give her this, she turned swinging, but it’s obvious she has no combat skills beyond basic self-defense. The diamond-shaped mask, the red horns, the “DW” belt, it all screams “amateur.” No function whatsoever. All form.
She will get herself killed. I told her as such as rudely as possible. I’ve been intimidating the good, the bad, and the beautiful for decades. I’ll follow her for a few nights – let her get roughed up just enough to call it quits. I don’t need another corpse in my city.
Even though I got shot, it the night proved rewarding.
A new Colossal emerged this afternoon. The boy told the press to call him “Excitor.” Kind of a silly name. He’s young, but he’s got power to spare. Wields some form of bioelectricity. Typical youth—brash, cocky, overconfident. He may be perfect. With this young man and Freedom, I’d have a tactician with muscle and flight and the enthusiasm of youth backed by raw power and fearlessness. Is the boy morally dependable? He’ll need observing before any decisions are made. He defeated Barrage, however. No small feat.
Near First Redeemer, I found “Devil Woman” attempting to apprehend participants in a drug deal. They pulled guns. That’s when I intervened. I disabled one of them immediately, but the other got a shot off. The Kevlar and leather armor held. He passed out when he saw me get back up. Ah, that little episode will drop non-MegaMal criminal activity by twenty-five percent over the next three weeks. I guarantee it.
The amateur put up a brave act, but the discharged firearms spooked her. I saw her hands trembling and the puddle at her feet. I pointed the puddle out. I haven’t survived two decades taking on the city’s worst by being nice. I don’t want her dead. She seems like a decent person. Can’t say I approve of her garb.
I found myself on the island’s northwest side. The Serpent murdered yet another. This time an elderly African American. Approximately seventy years old. Two sets of puncture wounds on each shoulder. Six feet, four inches tall. Two hundred and twenty, give or take. It’s apparent the Serpent is using some form of needle to inject his victims. The media loves to propagate the notion that the MegaMal is literally “biting” his prey like a real snake, but all the evidence suggests nothing of the sort. There are always rectangular imprints surrounding the sets of punctures. The impressions are accompanied by subsequent bruising. I’ve come to the conclusion that the killer has two needles mounted to a device on each fist. As there are never any witnesses, I have no way to confirm this. Just a hunch.
As expected, it wasn’t long before Turf arrived on the scene. As his name would suggest, he’s very strict about maintaining order in his neck of the woods. He was not happy to find me sulking around, but he was even less happy to realize the Shadow Serpent struck on his watch.
I don’t know if Turf considers himself a Colossal, but I’ve always thought highly of his efforts since he started protecting the innocent eight years ago. During that time, he’s never killed. He doesn’t use weapons. He depends on his enhanced strength, speed, and intellect to get him through tough spots. I once heard a rumor that he also depends on a higher power. We may have something in common.
I told him I wanted to assemble a team to terminate the Serpent’s activity. He didn’t seem interested. He’s still angry about not being allowed to join the old team, before most of us were killed. I think Solar Flare knew what he was doing in refusing Turf’s admission back then. I’ve always maintained that Solar Flare knew death awaited that team. His powers gave him a strange talent for escaping time’s perimeters.
I should have been with them on that day.
I should be dead.
No Shadow Serpent victims tonight.
No Devil Woman sightings, either.
I should consider myself lucky. I’m hoping both of them gave it up.
Trover brought in the young Colossal today to First Redeemer. I don’t know how these people who don’t wear masks expect to fool anybody. He seemed very interested in finding a purpose beyond just being one of the nation’s greatest heroes. Pastor Irons sat and spoke with him for a very long time. Trover simply faded into the background with a smile on his face.
The young man, Freedom, is an ideal recruit. In fact, if this new team works out and we stop Shadow Serpent, I’ll gladly hand leadership over to him. Solar Flare was right; I’m not exactly the most diplomatic madman running around in armor and a cloak.
Speaking of armor, this “Silver Streak” could be a logical addition. His biomechanical suit gives him extremely enhanced speed. I’d love to know how it works. I didn’t even know such a thing was in development, which leads me to believe it’s not government or corporate related. The media has never been able to clock his speed. I find this odd. Like Excitor, however, Silver Streak has not been on the scene long enough to prove his morality. I’ll not have any ethically ambiguous members on my team. He bears further observation.
The Serpent was mine!
It happened on the Metzler Building in Old Downtown, right on the edge of Grell Harbor. Though I at first saw only his back, I knew it could only be him. He had something hanging from his back, blowing in the wind. It looked like shed skin yet to fully detach, but that’s impossible. The killer is all too human, of that I’m certain. He dressed in all black. I got within twenty-five meters when I pulled out a tranquilizer dart. I wish I could tell you that I find it dishonorable to take down an adversary from behind, but with a body count like the Serpent’s, honor goes out the window.
It’s a moot point anyway.
His latest victim still writhed when the Shadow Serpent turned to face me. I hadn’t made a sound. I couldn’t make out his build due to the cape billowing behind him, but I could see two crimson eyes, two fangs, and a red, forked tongue.
I was right about the needles.
At the end of the knuckle-guard on each of his gauntlets were two needles. Big needles.
I next observed his victim.
It was the Devil Woman.
I could see nothing in those red eyes, and the MegaMal said nothing. He just stuck one of the two needles from his left hand into her left arm, then shoved her off the building into the harbor.
He ran and jumped to the next roof; I ran the twenty-five meters to the ledge, lost as much armor as I could en route, then dove in after the amateur.
Twenty years ago a man named Trover nursed me back to health after Odium tore me to shreds. This, of course, happened back when I wore inadequate armor.
In those days, I wore a mask instead of a helmet. To Trover’s credit, he did not remove it during the nine days he, his brother, and his brother’s girlfriend took care of me.
Out of respect to his actions, I won’t remove the Devil Woman’s mask.
It is obvious the Serpent did not want her dead. He used her to distract me from pursuing him. I’m certain he allowed himself to be seen. I walked right into his plans. He choreographed all of it.
I pulled Devil Woman from the water and rushed her to my quarters. It took a few days, but she’s finally coming around.
Unfortunately, the Serpent did not pump enough of his venom into her for me to get an accurate reading of its composition.
I have to wonder if this was also part of his plan …
Could the Serpent be more intelligent than all of us?
I have my work cut out for me.
Devil Woman is up and moving, and she thirsts for vengeance. She’s demanding I train her to take on the Serpent. I explained to her that I don’t even know for certain that I can defeat the Serpent, and I’ve been taught by the best and have over twenty years of experience.
She won’t take “no” for an answer. If I don’t instruct her, she’ll confront him anyway and be killed within the week.
To make matters worse, she’s a heathen.
I suppose that is not without its irony.
It has been days since my last entry. I have been very busy. Devil Woman is coming along sufficiently in her training. She does not remove her mask, and I do not unfasten my helmet. There is no personal connection whatsoever.
I keep telling myself that.
Although she is an amateur, she is not entirely clumsy or unintelligent. I’ve initiated her training in the art of the staff. It will allow her to keep her distance from criminals while engaging them. I did not respond when she mentioned a gun would be easier.
On another note, the Shadow Serpent killed once again over the last few days. Again, no witnesses. Two sets of puncture wounds along the collarbone. Female. Asian. Forty to forty-five years old. Five feet, one inch. Approximately one hundred and seventy pounds. No irregularities in appearance other than the wounds. Killed while cutting through Morrison Park. Supposedly on her way to a graveyard shift at work.
Where is the connection between the Serpent’s victims? I cannot believe anyone, MegaMal or not, can kill so many so indiscriminately. Even history’s worst murderers had a method to their viciousness. What is his?
It is time to put the force together. Loathe as I am to admit it, I can’t protect the innocent and track down the Shadow Serpent simultaneously. I will need assistance. Devil Woman asked me who I would like working with us. I told her the names of my candidates, then I reminded her that she is not one of them, therefore negating the term “us.”
She did not respond to my latter statement positively.
Even though I explained to her that I needed a few days to observe some of my candidates, Devil Woman took it upon herself to summon them.
She and I were to meet tonight on top of First Redeemer for a session concerning rooftop combat. When I arrived, she accompanied an impressive cadre of Colossals.
Freedom stood in his red, white, and blue with his cape flowing behind him looking exactly like the Colossal he is. He was the only one I felt sure would join.
To my surprise, Turf made an appearance. He didn’t seem happy, but he did look resolved to put an end to the killings. That’s all I ask.
The Silver Streak stood with his suit gleaming in the moonlight. I wish Devil Woman had given me more time to watch over this enigma, just to be sure. His membership is probationary in my book.
Excitor was also there on a trial basis, as well as some other kid I’ve never seen before. Blue electricity jumped from one of Excitor’s hands to the other, and his expression said saving the city wouldn’t be terribly difficult.
The other kid kept his entire body covered from the boots to the top of his head. Only his hair remained free. His suit had an orange flame riding up his legs and chest, set against black. He called himself El Fuego. Unlike Excitor, he didn’t exhibit his powers openly, though I should think they are fairly obvious.
I don’t know how in the world Devil Woman convinced these men to join my little crusade, but I saw in her eyes that she expected to be admitted for her deed. I guess that makes four probationary members.
The Shadow Serpent will be stopped.
It’s been weeks since I began training my recruits to battle as a team. While we’ve been preparing, the Serpent struck time and again. I now have 57 murders in my city over the last twenty-one months, all accredited to the Shadow Serpent.
He will pay.
In the meantime, the recruits progress tolerably enough. I’ve come to rely on Freedom and Turf for their veteran experience. They seem to get along well. Both men have a good in them rarely encountered.
Silver Streak is a different story. He’s not a particularly gifted combatant. He doesn’t have any passion for our drills, either. I don’t know why he joined up with us. He says he wants to take down the Serpent, he owes a friend, but his heart isn’t into what we’re doing. I’ve seen that suit of his in action. Actually, I haven’t seen anything more than a blur. He refused to explain to me how it works, but I’m beginning to think it’s got nothing to do with enhanced speed. If he’s going to stay in this squad, he’ll detail the specs … or else.
Then we have Excitor and El Fuego. We have a “no real names” policy amongst ourselves, by the way, although I’ve already figured out three of my recruits’ identities. I’m not going to commit their names to record, but Turf and Freedom were deduced a while ago, and I just happened to come across El Fuego as well—almost too easily. The rest would be simple if I wanted to put some real effort into it, but I don’t. My only concern is the Serpent.
At any rate, the two kids do not get along. Every drill we run ends up a pissing contest between them. If they both didn’t have such raw power, I’d kick them out on general principal. But, I need them.
Devil Woman is doing fine. Even though she’s driving me crazy with all the personal questions she asks, she’s got more passion in her little finger for taking down the bad guys than Silver Streak has in his entire body. But, like Excitor, Silver Streak, and El Fuego, she’s inexperienced. These kids will probably get Freedom, Turf and me killed if I don’t take every precaution. The only problem is, the rookie boys have enough power to keep their hides safe. Devil Woman’s only got her heart and her brain. Not many of us survive doing what we do with just those. Until I met her, I thought I was the last.
If we could just catch a break; if the Serpent would just slip up once . . .
Devil Woman is off the team.
After a training session, I caught her taking notes. She thought we all had left. In fact, we had. I came back due to a hunch. My hunches are always right. There she was, huddled in a shadow, jotting down everything.
I can’t believe I let her get the best of me.
I should have known when I first encountered her that she wasn’t the real deal. I confused her incompetence with just being a novice. I never dreamt someone would risk her life over something so trivial. I’ll never understand her sort.
I threatened to break her every finger if she breathed a word to the public concerning what she learned. When I first met her, she probably would have started crying. I made her tough, though. She handed the notebook over to me, but she didn’t make a sound. When I turned to leave, she asked me to wait. It killed her pride, but she begged me not to tell the rest of the recruits. I don’t know why, but I agreed.
I’d like to think it was because I didn’t want to hurt team morale.
… It’s not that.
It’s a good thing what happened; I’m too old to get mixed up with women like her. Besides, Pastor Irons would never approve.
More weeks passed since my last entry, more people died.
61 in twenty-two months.
Finally, though, we caught a break. Last night, Turf patrolled on his own when he came across a dead body. Female, African American. Turf doesn’t bother to analyze details as I do, but I got him to remember that he thought she was around twenty years old, about five six, and probably one hundred and sixty pounds. He said she had one set of puncture wounds to her right cheek. No other signs of trauma.
This one, however, had a note attached.
It said for me to meet the Serpent tonight, alone, at Waid’s Wharf. It’s on the northwest side of the city, the rough part. An old shipyard. Barely used anymore, not for anything legal, at least. That’s Turf’s part of town; he’ll know where I can stash away the team.
I’d love to take the Serpent down myself, but I won’t risk another innocent life for my own ego. Tonight, you will exist no more.
It has been four weeks since my last entry.
Just like with my other team, all those years ago, things went wrong.
I got to the wharf. Turf, Freedom, El Fuego, Excitor, and Silver Streak were a quarter mile behind me hiding in a warehouse. They had a clear view of me, and with Silver Streak in the crew, I could have help instantly if I needed it.
I saw him.
He stood perfectly still, perfectly relaxed. I’ve seen such a stance before. It is a stance that only the most deadly and capable warriors employ. I knew if he wanted a fight, I’d have my hands full.
Keep in mind, I’ve never gone against someone I wasn’t sure I could beat one way or the other.
He held up his arms for me to take a look at the needles protruding from his gauntlets. I think he was reminding me, just to make it a fair fight.
Engulfed in my cloak, I positioned my escrima sticks against my sides and hoped they would catch him unaware.
He reached toward me and motioned for my approach.
I rolled my shoulders, as though warming up for combat. It was the secret signal to attack.
The next thing I knew, Silver Streak lay on the ground. He bore no punctures, but the boot mark on his face made it obvious that the Serpent somehow prevented his attack. I had it in my head that his suit was a temporal displacement unit rather than a speed machine. I guess I was wrong.
Phase one of Operation: Head Crush failed.
I dove on the ground as phase two initiated. Blasts of flames and electricity surged over my head, aimed at the Serpent. Sparks and flares consumed the area where he stood.
I got up and positioned my escrima, ready for both offense and defense.
Excitor, El Fuego, and Turf formed a perimeter around me. We kept Freedom hidden as our ace in the hole if things got worse.
Freedom is wanted by the government for treason, after all. He tries not to go out in the open unless it’s absolutely necessary. The last thing I need are Meta Agents like Hell Hound and Anthem crawling all over us.
We looked everywhere, and finally, atop a crate as big as a semi trailer, we saw him.
The Serpent stood, glaring at me. I betrayed whatever sense of honor he thought existed between us. That didn’t trouble me. Frankly, I recognize no honor in murderers.
He picked up a remote control device of some sort and pressed a button.
The crate fell to pieces, and within, the nightmare began.
He had four people strapped to a table.
As the crate fell apart around the hostages, the Serpent leapt into the air, did three somersaults, then landed on the table in the middle of his victims. He immediately sank a pair of his needles into the poor soul on the far left. The man twitched violently before dying. Excitor vomited. I think it was the first time the boy witnessed someone die.
We all made a move to rush the Serpent, but he paused just as he was about to drop his “fangs” into yet another victim.
He kept the needles above a woman’s forehead while staring us down.
With his left hand, he pointed at me and gestured for me to near.
He allowed me within ten feet of him, then signed that I stop.
He pointed at the three men twenty feet behind me and indicated they remain in place.
He then exploded from the table and commenced attacking me.
I got the escrima up in time to block a set of his needles. When he pulled his hand back, he took one of my sticks with it. I couldn’t allow him the time to pull it free; I had better odds against one set than two.
Then, El Fuego and Excitor did something stupid.
I heard Turf yell “No!” before streaks of unrefined energy blazed past me. Again, the Serpent easily dodged them, catapulted through the air, landed next to the hostage on the far right, then punctured her trachea with his venomous spikes. Another innocent dead.
Shadow Serpent waved his finger sternly back and forth at the boys. I didn’t have time to also admonish them because the battle commenced anew.
He obviously toyed with me.
Freedom didn’t dare come out of hiding for the sake of the victims, Excitor and El Fuego had been rendered useless, and Turf wouldn’t risk movement, either. Silver Streak remained unconscious. And I was just an old man getting the life beat out of him.
It’d been a long time since I took that kind of punishment. I knew he could have stuck me anytime he wanted. My chin remained the only part of my body unarmored. He made a point to strike it with an open palm and kick it with the heel of his boot as often as he could. And trust me, that was quite often.
I didn’t land one blow against him.
Finally, he stabbed me under the chin with only one of his needles. He didn’t have enough surface area to get them both in. My face instantly numbed and I dropped.
I watched him bend down to unfasten my helmet. He knew one poke from one needle wouldn’t be enough to kill. He meant to finish the job.
That’s when Freedom erupted.
The boy’s got guts, I’ll give him that. He broke through the wall of the warehouse, hoping to get the edge on the Serpent, but the killer proved too quick.
He back flipped from me to the table with the victims, tore loose the escrima, then placed both sets over the two remaining hostages.
Freedom had no choice. He landed next to my body, mere feet from the Serpent.
He almost made it.
With the top half of my body now ice-cold, I looked up to see Freedom staring at me. He knew he failed. I could see he was a man who didn’t fail often, and hated it when he did.
In the time it took Freedom to make the quarter mile, the rest of the team got halfway to the hostages. They stopped, thankfully, when Freedom did.
We had a good old stalemate. None of the Colossals dared move. The Serpent knew if he killed his last two victims, he had no collateral for escape. He had nowhere to go. My men blocked his only route. He only had the harbor behind him.
He meant to take it.
He scooped up the smaller of the still-living hostages, threw her over his shoulder, then motioned for Freedom to back away from me.
With one set of his poisonous needles pressed against the butt of his victim, he knelt down and lifted my helmet half off. My entire jaw and mouth were completely exposed.
I felt the needles push against my skin when thunder erupted.
God forgive me.
It has been five days since my last entry.
My healing goes well.
Bodily, at least.
My soul is a different matter.
As an absolute last precaution, I implemented Phase Omega in the stratagem against the Shadow Serpent.
I would not tolerate an escape.
I felt sure we’d be able to capture him, but the hostage situation changed matters drastically. When Devil Woman saw that all other phases failed, she took the action I instructed—long range termination.
I abhor guns, and I detest killing.
I don’t know which is worse: that I ordered the death of a human being, or that I used someone else to execute the action.
When all was said and done, I couldn’t condemn merely myself, I had to drag Devil Woman down with me.
I later learned the Serpent took a bullet squarely between the eyes, but, even so, he still managed to bolt for the water. No one dove in after him, and I can’t say I blame them. The innocents required medical attention. The dead needed tending.
His body never surfaced.
The team disbanded.
Freedom, while no stranger to death, couldn’t condone my actions. Turf is a loner. Silver Streak doesn’t have it in him to continue, said he’d missed first place yet again. Excitor and El Fuego are simply too green. They have to deal with the death of those hostages for the time being. They’ll get over it, eventually. I hope they’ve learned a lesson from the terrible events they witnessed.
And Devil Woman, well, I owe her a great deal. I knew I could ask her to kill for me. Like me, she saw the big picture. Also, she wanted back on the team and would do anything to get back in my good graces.
The question is, have my good graces cost her His?
I found the strength to get out of bed today.
Thankfully, I suffered no permanent damage. Pastor Irons and Devil Woman did a fine job nursing me back to health.
My soul, however, still aches for the death I caused.
Is it right to kill in order to keep others from dying? Did I error in assuming the mantel of judge and jury? Did I manipulate a naïve young woman into the role of executioner?
I don’t know.
During my twenty-two years on the job, I always found a way other than killing. Now that I’ve done it, will I resort to it again?
More so, even if I don’t, will Devil Woman? She nearly died when she fought the Shadow Serpent in hand-to-hand combat. But she then defeated him from a half mile away with the aid of a rifle. That sort of success is difficult for people to ignore.
I will call on her today. I must see her again. I wish I could say it is only to discuss the actions I ordered.
When Devil Woman came to my quarters, she did not find the Nocturnal Knight, but rather, Pastor Irons.
He handles these sorts of situations better.
Pastor Irons first asked her to remove her mask.
Although she hesitated, the Devil Woman disappeared, and Pastor Irons perceived Sydney Attwater standing before him.
She asked Irons what this was about. He told her it pertained to several things. He said she must abandon her story for WPUG news now that she had committed murder. He informed her that Devil Woman should disappear as well. Finally, he asserted that the redemption of her soul should be her only concern.
Of course, Sydney is an atheist, so Irons’ last proclamation did little to stir.
Sydney argued that if she hadn’t shot the Serpent, the body count would be in the seventies by now, which is indisputable. She also reminded Irons that I ordered her to exterminate the Serpent, that I taught her how to fire the sniper rifle, and that I assigned her vantage point for the shot. She may have pulled the trigger, but the Nocturnal Knight killed the Serpent.
Irons stated that Nocturnal Knight’s sense of morality wavered and I needed help.
Irons will never forget the look on Sydney’s face after his declaration. She looked at him as though he were psychotic.
She replaced her diamond-shaped mask and left Irons, that old fool, standing alone in my attic headquarters within First Redeemer.
He contemplated deeply while rubbing my bandaged chin.
Copyright © 2006, 2015 Scott William Foley
All Rights Reserved
Originally Published In the Short Story Collection
The Imagination’s Provocation: Volume II (iUniverse, 2006)
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews or articles.
Also By Scott William Foley …
Short Story Collections
The Imagination’s Provocation: Volume I
The Imagination’s Provocation: Volume II
Dr. Nekros Electronic Serial
Dr. Nekros: The Tragedian (1 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: Phantasms and Chicanery (2 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: Bloodied Pistons (3 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: An Unforeseen Calamity (4 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: A Nightmare Realized (5 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: An Abhorrent Culmination (6 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: Monstrosity’s Dawn (7 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: The Demons Within (8 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: Lineage (9 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: The Inevitable Demise of Anton Hall (10 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: Diatribe and Divulgence (11 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: Peripeteia (12 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: The Realm Within (13 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: The Depths of Fate (14 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: A77 (15 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: A Catastrophic Convergence (16 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: The Devil’s Ashes (17 of 18)
Dr. Nekros: Requiem For the Redeemed (18 of 18)
About the Author
Scott William Foley is a proud husband, father, educator, and writer. He earned his Bachelor of Science degree in English Secondary Education and his Master’s degree in Reading from Illinois State University. Foley currently lives in Normal, IL.