Strange Tales #31 Part 1 Featuring DOA Written by Bob Gansler

YEAR THREE OCT

It was October 31, and a quintet of sinister figures shuffled amongst the birds that flocked to Trafalgar Square.  They did not appear to be all that sinister, at least from outward appearances.  They looked to the normal eye to be just another group of tourists here.  Perhaps they were here to see the giant lion statues, perhaps they wanted to stare at the towering Nelson’s Column, perhaps they were on their way to the British National Museum or to Victoria’s Arch.  All those possibilities were potential reasons to be here, but Nicholas Belial and the core members of DOA, the Department of Occult Armaments, were here for a purpose altogether different.

“Lieutenant, do you mind telling us why we’re here?” a female asked.  She appeared to be a thirty-something-year old woman in drab clothing.  She really was wrapped in mummy-like bandages from head to toe.  She wore a thin brown jacket over her wrappings.  She used to be called Susan Maddox; since her ‘change’ she was only called ‘Rotwrap’.

“Yeah, boss,” a man whose true form was that of a hulking brute with only the barest of clothes.  To an outsider, the monster known as Innards appeared to be a small Oriental tourist.  “I thought we were looking for a key.”

The man who was in the middle of his four associates looked up from his huddled position.  “Rotwrap, must I remind you that I am no longer a Lieutenant.  I am simply your ‘Leader’ since we of DOA broke away from HYDRA.”  Leader Belial thought with disdain on their former employers.  The worldwide terrorist organization HYDRA had not truly appreciated the efforts of DOA.  Baron Strucker had punished Belial and his core team most severely after the two failed attempts to acquire a vampire stormtrooper for HYDRA.  Hannibal King had escaped from the grasp in the first outing.  The second venture had actually succeeded in creating Bloodstorm, a clone of Dracula; however, the clone had escaped after ravaging the HYDRA research facility.

It was after this second failure that Belial became convinced that DOA would be better off as an independent organization.  He was confident that world domination would be accomplished much easier through mystic means than through the terrorist methods that HYDRA employed.  How many years had HYDRA been flailing its many limbs in its desire for global conquest?  Had DOA truly been less successful than its estranged parent?

“Quite right,” a man whose guise indicated he was snappily-dressed barrister.  In actuality, he was the cybernetically-augmented medical monster called ‘Malpractice’.  Almost all of his body had been replaced with mechanical parts, although he still had uses for his original organic components.  “HYDRA never gave us our due.  Belial will lead us to where HYDRA could never take us.”

“We’ll see about that, you quack,” a stunning red-headed woman replied.  Her true form was encased in a red bodysuit.  If you came close, you could tell she was ‘hot stuff’ – as in a few hundred degrees hot.  She was called, quite aptly, ‘Pyre’.

“If all of you would be quiet for a moment, I can complete my extispicy reading.”  The birds of Trafalgar had provided a quite suitable subject for his divinations.  Their entrails lay on the birdseed covered ground.  Belial moved the entrails around with a stick, making sure that he understood the message that they were providing him.  To an outsider, it looked as if Belial was bending over to tie his shoe.  The other tourists had no idea that he had savagely ripped the heads off of two birds and slit them open, pouring their entrails on the ground.

Satisfied with the message, Belial rose to his feet.  “We will find our Key in Soho.  He will open the door for us.”

Pyre whispered to Rotwrap.  “Is Belial serious?  Is he really going to try to do this?”

Rotwrap pushed one of her deadly insect denizens back between the folds of her wrappings.  “I don’t think we would have come all of the way to England if he didn’t.”  She took a deep breath.  “What concerns me is what he wants us to do once the door is opened.”

“Can we scare them now?” Innards suggested.  He was ready to reach inside of himself and remove something to horrify the tourists.  Perhaps he could whip them into a frenzy with his intestines; squirting stomach acid always ensured a good time, at least for him.

Belial looked at Innards with disdain.  “No, it would be unwise to drop the illusionary field that the Eye is projecting.”  He took out a wand from inside of his coat.  At the end of the wand was a spectacular green emerald.  It shone brilliantly, but there was nothing beautiful about its glow.  Rather it was an aura of pure evil that it radiated.  He pointed to the north.  “Come, DOA.  Our quarry awaits us.”

In an eclectically-decorated apartment in Soho, Rob Hayworth sat with his hands behind his head.  His life had been a worthless one until recently.  He had lost track of all of the jobs that he had lost.  He spent more time on the dole than employed.  Any money that he had went towards buying pints at the local pub.  It was after one night at the Black Friars, just across the way from Parliament, that he had been approached by a mysterious man.  Rob had thought the conversation was a product of his alcohol-addled imagination.  The next day he called the phone number on the card that the man had given him.  He talked to someone from the Omni Corporation.  They wanted him for a special job, and they were willing to pay him more pounds than he had earned in the last two years just to come in for an interview.

Rob jumped at the chance and suffered through a wide battery of tests, pokings and proddings, until they were satisfied.  He still was not sure what the job was to be, but they were offering him too much money to be declined.  It was only after a few months of training in mastering his ‘mystic power’ as his teachers called it, that Rob got the full story.

Apparently, Rob had the power to be a Master Key, one who could momentarily channel the entire world’s electrical power into opening up a wormhole – a tear in the fabric of space and time.  The real company behind Omni, MYS-TECH, wanted the knowledge and technology that could be found on other worlds.  Rob and his fellow Master Keys would be dispatched to locations where the continuum showed signs of weakness.  It was at these points that a Master Key could, by force, create a wormhole.

It had given Rob the opportunity to travel.  The locations on the globe where a wormhole could be created were constantly changing.   He had been to Katmandu, Rio de Janeiro, Hong Kong, Paris, Dallas, and countless other cities.  Rob did not know how MYS-TECH found these points of instability, and he did not care.  They sent him there, he opened the wormhole, and then a Warhead troop went through.  Sometimes the troop came back, sometimes they did not.  It did not matter to Rob.

Outside of the apartment building, the DOA operatives waited for Belial to finish his divination.  To the outside observer, it looked like the group was simply admiring a street painter.  However, Belial was engaged in the practice of tephramancy - the practice of writing in ashes.  Closing his eyes, he let his finger wander through the ashes he had spread on the ground.   Once the process was completed, he gazed down at the lines he had traced.  He smiled.  “Of course.  Sixth floor, room number 66.”  Belial rose, wrapped his trenchcoat around him and led the DOA team inside.

A knock came at Rob Hayworth’s door.  He turned down the punk rock music blasting out of his stereo.  He wondered who could it be.  Not many people knew that he lived here.  MYS-TECH always called ahead if they were going to visit.  The building was owned by Omni, and no one ever got by the doorman.

Belial’s voice blared out.  “Rob Hayworth, you are now a prisoner of DOA.”

“Bloody hell!”  Hayworth rushed over to the phone.  He was startled as his door burst into flame and was reduced to ash in a matter of seconds.  Pyre stepped through the doorless doorway first.  Innards came in second, dragging the doorman with his intestines.  The doorman’s face showed numerous insect bites, undoubtedly the work of Rotwrap’s little friends.

“I don’t know who you are,” Hayworth blurted in terror.  “You bloody idiots don’t know who your messing with.  I’m with bloody MYS-TECH.  They’ll feed you to demons.”

“We know with whom we are dealing, Mr. Hayworth.  Your association with MYS-TECH is the reason for our visit.  You are a Master Key, and we want you to open a door for us.”

Hayworth reached for the phone, but something grabbed him instead.  There was a bodiless arm holding his own arm with a vise-like grip.  The grip grew tighter and Hayworth was forced to drop the phone.

“Hee, hee,” Malpractice giggled as he controlled his organic arm with a remote control device.  “I have the situation well in hand, Belial.”

“What do you want?” Hayworth struggled to free himself from Malpractice’s hand, but the appendage would not let go.  Soon Malpractice’s legs had attached themselves to those of Hayworth and walked him over to the door.

Belial put his hand underneath Hayworth’s chin.  The young man did not look that important, but the signs had led them here.  “A wormhole, Mr. Hayworth.  What we want is a wormhole of the variety that you can create.”

“Strewth,” Hayworth thought.  These freaks knew about wormholes.  MYS-TECH never told him that he would be a target since he was a Master Key.  “I can’t just summon up a wormhole.  I need to be in a place that’s spatially and temporally unstable,” Hayworth explained hurriedly.  At least that was what the MYS-TECH Board told him.
 
Belial grinned devilishly.  “We know that.  We have located such a site that you used previously.  We shall take you there and you will create a wormhole that will provide us access to our intended destination.”

Hayworth shook his head.  “I can’t control where a wormhole leads to.  You could end up in Hell for all I know.”

“That, Mr. Hayworth,” Belial replied, “is exactly where we want to go.”

A short time later, Belial and his band had carried Hayworth to mass of bushes inside of Kensington Park.  He recognized the location; he had sent Regar Troop through a wormhole here about two months ago.  Only one of them returned, babbling about the hideous insect creatures that inhabited the other world.   Hayworth dropped to the ground clumsily.  Innards had been carrying him while Hayworth was wrapped up with the DOA agent’s intestines.  He was happy to be free of the bonds, although he was not free of the awful stink from Innard’s gastrointestinal tract.

Belial brought out his ‘magic stick’.  The visit to the Thames the previous night had provided the materials necessary for an ichthyomancy divination.  The entrails of the fish had indicated that Kensington Park was a location that still had a measure of instability to it.  The power of the Eye of Lucifer, the emerald that rested on his wand, would be able to provide some additional flux.  He concentrated and the jewel glowed hideously.

Hayworth rose to his feet.  His mystic senses could tell that the site was appropriate for creating a wormhole.  He had never been back to a place twice before.  He assumed that Belial’s wand must be responsible.  If he could find a way out of this predicament with the wand in his possession, he was sure that MYS-TECH would reward him handsomely.  That wand was the kind of thing that the Board sent Warheads after.

Brushing himself off, Hayworth inquired, “So what’s the story with the magic wand there?”

Belial turned to address the Master Key as the Eye resumed its normal green hue.  “This is the Eye of Lucifer.  It was a part of the crown that the Archangel of the Morningstar wore when he fell from Heaven.  Lucifer fell all the way to Hell, but the Eye remained on Earth.”

The other DOA operatives looked at Belial with surprise.  This was the first that they had heard of what his emerald wand was.  They took his words at face value; Belial was not one to exaggerate.

“The Eye will direct the formation of the wormhole,” Belial continued.  “It will allow you to form our very own Gate into Hell.”

Hayworth could not understand what Belial wanted.  Did he want to summon demons?  “What the bloody hell for?”

Belial wrapped both hands about the Eye.  “We will liberate some of the denizens of the infernal realm.  There are certain factors on Earth that are inimical to our own interests.  We shall bring some of those denizens back to deal with our potential opposition.”

Innards gave over and gave Hayworth a big hug.  “What the boss is saying is that there’s some mystic guys out there that we want offed.  So we’re gonna bust out some baddies that have it bad for these guys.”

Belial waved his hand.  “Enough!” he commanded.  “I must make the final divination.  I must see which of you is assigned to liberate each respective nemesis.”  He motioned to Pyre.  “My dear?”

Belial pulled out a candle and a four bottles of water.  The bottles were part of some Halloween promotion; each was adorned with a different scary face – a vampire, a mummy, a Frankenstein monster, and a wolfman.   He uncapped the bottles and held the candle out to Pyre.  Her flame lit the candle.  Belial held the candle over each bottle and let the wax drop into its aqueous contents.  He watched the wax shape itself into various forms when it struck the water.  Ceromancy was one of Belial’s favorite practices.

After watching the wax for a few minutes, Belial blew out the candle.  “I have seen what needs to be done.”  He reached into Malpractice’s medicine bag.  He took out a wooden shard, once part of a coffin, and handed it to Innards.  “You shall find someone whose hatred is for Dracula.”  He rubbed the Eye over the dagger.  “This will show you when you are near.”

In the same way, he took a strip of Egyptian wrapping, rubbed it with the Eye, and handed it to Pyre.  “You shall find someone who craves revenge upon the Living Mummy.”

To Malpractice he presented a piece of electrical apparatus.  “This device was part of the machinery that brought the Monster of Frankenstein to life.”  He passed over the device with the Eye.  “Find someone who wants to destroy the immortal Monster.”

Belial gave Rotwrap a piece of brown fur.  “This fur came from the Werewolf named Jack Russell.”  After charging it with the Eye, he instructed her, “Find someone who wants to kill the beast.”

The DOA operatives all held their respective ‘dousing rods’.  Belial bathed them all with infernal light from the Eye. “This shall protect you from most of the demons and devils in the inferno.  You might encounter some difficulty actually liberating your targets from their torments.  Once you have liberated them, return directly to the wormhole.  Your items will guide you.”  He turned to Hayworth.  “Open the wormhole!”

Hayworth gritted his teeth.  “Anything you want.”  He concentrated, and as Belial held out the glowing Eye of Lucifer, a swirling portal appeared before them.  The DOA operatives all jumped through the gate and disappeared.

Hayworth looked over at Belial.  “So what do we do now?”

Belial looked at him coldly.  “You wait, while I decide whether I want your entrails for a anthropomancy reading.”

Hayworth did not like the look in Belial’s eyes.  The DOA leader was not joking.  He hoped the MYS-TECH would find him missing and send somebody to get him.  One Warheads troop should be able to deal with these DOA fellows.

Down in Hell, Innards hurried through the halls of torment.  While he had seen much horror since he had been recruited by HYDRA and then assigned to DOA, this was unlike anything he had ever seen.  The agony to which the ‘guests’ here were subjected made him wince.  He wondered what these people did to deserve such a fate.  He hoped that his actions would not lead to such a destiny.

Every so often the wooden shard pulsed in reaction to the presence of someone who hated Dracula.  Innards could tell that most of them were former vampires.  Dracula certainly had destroyed a lot of his own kind.  None of them elicited the type of magical response that Innards was hoping for.

After an indeterminate time, Innards came upon a single figure standing in a pool.  As Innards came closer, he could see that the level of the pool was just below the figure’s chin.    He could further tell that the pool was filled with blood.  The shard began to pulse furiously in Innards’ hands.  He called out of the figure.  “This wood says that you have a thing for Dracula.”

The figure turned his head slightly.  That was apparently all he could do.  All that blood, so close and yet so far.  “That pretentious noble.  Yes, he was the one that destroyed me.”  The smell of the blood called to him, but he could do nothing.  “Have you come here to taunt me?”  His long red hair just barely missed breaking the surface of the pool.

“No, I’ve come here to make you a deal.  What’s your name?”

“Torgo was I called.  What sort of deal?” the vampire replied.

Innards reached deep within himself and pulled out his intestines.  He tossed one end out and lassoed Torgo’s head.  “We get you out, you kill Dracula.”

Elsewhere within the infernal realm, Pyre felt strangely at home.  The searing heat was quite comfortable to her.  The demons that were tormenting imprisoned souls paid her no mind.  Pyre wondered if it really was because of the power of the Eye of Lucifer.  Perhaps it was because of her own flaming appearance, or perhaps that it was because they thought she would be dealt with soon enough.  Who ever escaped from hell?  “Well, if that’s what they’re thinking, they’ve got another thing coming,” Pyre thought.  “I’m getting out of here, and with someone to kill the Living Mummy.”

Pyre came across many Egyptian-looking prisoners who caused s small response by the wrapping.  None of caused the strong signal that she wanted.  Eventually she came upon a man being tormented by some misshapen creatures.  The creatures were subjecting the unfortunate man to the procedure of mummification.  They were removing his internal organs, one by one.

The creatures finished the procedure, dressing him uncomfortably tightly in traditional mummy wrappings, and then departed.  They laughed with an insane sound as they left their helpless victim behind.  Pyre walked up to the mummified figure and unwrapped his head and turned him over.  He was an attractive looking bald man of Egyptian features.

The man looked up at her with a dry and cracked face.  He noted her fiery appearance.  “I’ve endured many sessions of mummification.  Your flame does not scare me, she-demon.”

Pyre smiled.  She felt a little bit flattered that the man considered her one of Hell’s own.  “I’m no demon, and I’m not here to burn you, I’m here to make you an offer.  Who are you, by the way?”

“I am Nephrus,” the man gasped. “High priest of his most high, Pharaoh Aram-Set.  What sort of offer are you proposing?”.

“Well, Neph,” Pyre explained, thinking about commenting regarding the irony of a religious man in the land of the damned’.  “I get you out of here, back to Earth.”

“And what must I do in return?”

“What you already want to do – destroy the Living Mummy!” Pyre replied dryly.

Malpractice was having a grand time as he toured Hell in search of someone who burned, in Hell, with hatred for the Monster of Frankenstein.  He found the scenes of torture simply delicious.  He was astounded by the variety of approaches that the minions of Hell employed.  Most of them had never occurred to him, and Malpractice was blessed (or cursed depending on your point of view) with a very sadistic imagination.  He took mental notes of the torture sessions, and he hoped that he would be able to remember them when it became necessary for DOA to torture someone.

The device that Malpractice held in his mechanical hands was something of an oddity.  It looked like something straight out of a movie set in a Victorian-era.  It did not surprise him since Belial declared it to be part of the apparatus that brought the true Monster of Frankenstein to life.  Most of the world thought the Monster to be a myth; DOA knew better.

Malpractice was so wrapped up in his twisted thoughts that he almost did not notice that the device was pulsing rapidly.  The good doctor must be near.  Malpractice looked around a saw a most grotesque operating table.  A man who undoubtedly had to be Victor Von Frankenstein.  The irony was just too delicious, even for Malpractice.  Victor’s body was strapped to an operating table, at least, what was left of his body.  The demonic doctors were removing his own limbs and replacing them with gnarled, rotting, disgusting others.  Of course, the doctors were not using any anesthetic; furthermore the procedures were being performed with not-so-delicate instruments such as chainsaws, machetes, and carving knives.

Even though he wanted to watch the scene for hours, Malpractice knew that his time in this infernal realm was limited.  He would have to save Victor in order to further DOA’s goals.  He decided to put his trust in the power of the exposure that Belial gave him with the Eye.  He walked up to the demonic doctors and nonchalantly told them.  “I’ve here to replace you.  You’re supposed to report back to the boss.”

The demonic doctors looked up with disappointment.  “Satan’s tail,” one exclaimed.  “We’ve only gone through one rotation.  We were supposed to put his originals back on and then replace them.”

Malpractice was not sure what the malevolent medical team saw him as, but it was clear that they were going to obey his orders.  “That’s the way it is.  Go talk to the boss.”

Stalking off grudgingly, the demonic doctors left the operating theatre.  Victor looked at Malpractice, wondering what type of torture was going to come next.  Malpractice went quickly to work putting Victor back together with his originals parts.  Malpractice even showed a bit of tender care in the procedure, even though he was tempted to stimulate a few pain centers.

Victor breathed a sigh of relief as he was whole once again.  He looked straight into Malpractice’s eyes.  He saw the Medical Monster for what he truly was, but it still seemed like another demon to the 19th century genius.  “What are you going to do to me now,” Victor asked hoarsely.

“Believe it or not,” Malpractice replied, “but I’m here to get you out of here, hee hee.”

Victor sighed.  Could it really be true?  This demon seemed to be different than the others somehow.  “I see,” he replied.  “And what must I do in return?  I can’t exactly sell my soul to the Devil, since he already has it,” he noted wryly.

“We don’t want your soul.  We want you to kill someone you know.  About eight feet tall, pale skin, dresses really bad.  He’s got some scars on his forehead.”

“The Monster,” Victor gasped.  “The Monster still lives?”

“Not if you have anything to do with it,” Malpractice sliced the bonds that held Victor down, and he helped the scientist to his feet.  “This little device,” Malpractice showed Victor the component to his apparatus, “says that destroying your creation is something that you’d really like to do.”

Elsewhere in Hell, shudders of fear wracked Rotwrap's body as she set out in her search.   Her shaking was so violent that it shook loose a number of the poisonous creatures that dwelled within the folds of her wrappings.  She had seen many hideous things in her time with DOA, but going to Hell itself was by far the most terrifying.  She could not imagine any other place that she would not rather be.  The landscape itself was horrible.  It defied any of her attempts to define.  It reeked of evil and she wanted out of this place as soon as possible.

The fur in her hand began to pulse.  She had only been in this godforsaken realm for a few minutes and she had picked up someone’s hatred for Jack Russell.  She was about to offer some thanks to up above, but then thought that such an expression would be inappropriate in this place.

Unfortunately, the fur was not pulsing too strongly.  It would appear that there would be others who might harbor a stronger hatred for the Werewolf.  Rotwrap did not care.  She wanted to get out now if not sooner.  She looked around the red haze to find the source of the hatred.  She looked over a single figure completely isolated for everything.  The figure was emaciated in appearance.

Rotwrap approached the despondent man.  She looked at him closely.  The man was outfitted in the shreds of a dark tuxedo.  A tattered red-lined cape was draped about him.  The man’s face turned, and Rotwrap could make out his features.  He looked like - Dracula?

Rotwrap shook her head.  It could not be Dracula.  The Count was one of their targets.  He could not be already here in Hell.  “Who are you?” Rotwrap demanded.

The man struggled to form a weak smile.  “You’re actually talking to me.  You actually acknowledge my existence?”

“Yes,” Rotwrap replied angrily.  “Of course you exist, you’re in Hell.”

“I know I’m in Hell,” the man cried.  “I was a great actor, adored by millions.  Now I don’t have any proof that I exist.  Everyone and everything ignores me, like I was not even here.  Once I had adulation, now I have nothing.”

Rotwrap sighed  but not in sympathy.  This one was a nutcase, but he could still be useful.  “You look like Dracula, why is that?”

“I, Louis Belski, was the greatest portrayer of the Count; better than Lugosi, Lee, and Palance put together.  And then I became even greater when the real Count  turned me into one of his army of darkness.”

Rotwrap was losing patience.  Maybe she should brave this realm for a while longer and find someone else.  “So Dracula turned you into a vampire.  Why do you hate the Werewolf Jack Russell?”

“That wolfman killed me, and ended my undead existence.”

“Good enough for me,” Rotwrap replied.  “Come on, we’re returning to Earth.”

“To Earth,” Belski said in astonishment.  “At what price?  In Hell, there’s always a price.”

“You kill Jack Russell for us.”

All of the DOA operatives returned, without incident thanks to the illusion power of the Eye, back to the point where they had entered Hell.  Once they were all gathered there, the portal opened up, and the DOA members, along with their rescued prisoners, stepped back to Earth.

It took some time to convince the former inmates of Hell that they really had returned to Earth.  All of them were dubious that this was some hellish prank, but the force of Belial’s words brought them to understanding.  The he waved the Eye over them, first Nephrus, then Victor, then Louis, and finally Torgo.  “I have irradiated you with the power of the Eye of Lucifer.  As such, we can easily find you wherever you might decide to go.  If you do not fulfill your respective parts of the bargain, we will find you and we will kill you.  I’m sure that your tormentors will be more than happy to have you back.”  He motioned for the unliving dead to set forth on their tasks.  “We have given you a second chance against your nemeses.  Make the most of it.”

Malpractice punched a few buttons on his control console, and a small flying orb followed each of the unliving dead as they disappeared into the foggy London night.  “I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” Malpractice giggled softly.

Innards turned to Belial.  “What if our ‘death squad’ don’t do the job?”

“Then we shall destroy them ourselves,” Belial replied coldly.  “For DOA to rule, the vampire, the werewolf, the mummy and the monster must be destroyed!”

TRICKS AND TREATS

I’ve incorporated some concepts from the Marvel UK Warheads series.  I always thought it was a series with a good concept, although it was typically marred with some horrible art.  MYS-TECH was a sinister organization with ties to the demon Mephisto.  MYS-TECH was able to create wormholes to other realities and times.  The Warheads were mercenaries that traveled through the wormholes to appropriate magic and technology that would be useful to MYS-TECH.  The series centered on Kether Troop, a Warheads unit led by the scruffy Colonel Liger and his talking gun Clementine.  The wormholes were created by a MYS-TECH operative known as “Master Key”.   I figured that there must be a number of these operatives in order to serve the many Warhead Troops.  Master Key Rob Hayworth is my own creation.

Now for some information about our Unliving Dead.

Torgo – Torgo was a vampire who had served during his human existence in the Transylvanian army that fought Attila the Hun.  He fell protecting his homeland, but he was revived as a vampire (as told in Tomb of Dracula #70).  When Dracula was transformed into a human by a Satan-masquerading Mephisto, Torgo assumed the title of Lord of Vampires.  When Dracula was returned to vampiric form, he bested Torgo in single combat and ended Torgo’s short reign.

Doctor Victor Von Frankenstein - The creator of the legendary monster.  The Mary Shelley novel is not just a novel; it’s a fictionalized version of what really happened, as told to Shelley by Victor’s brother Ernst.  As the novel told, Victor died in the arctic wastes in pursuit of the Monster.  The novel indicated that the Monster had perished as well, but the tales in The Frankenstein Monster, Monsters Unleashed, and The Monster of Frankenstein showed that the Monster had survived.

Louis Belski – Louis was an actor who portrayed Dracula in low budget films.  (His own estimation of his talents exaggerate his skills slightly).  He was turned by Dracula along with Liza Pyne in Dracula Lives #4.  They later fought against Jack Russell.  The Werewolf by Night, with help from Raymond Coker (another werewolf), slew the two vampires in Werewolf By Night #19.

Nephrus -  High priest of Egypt under Pharaoh Aram-Set over three thousand years ago.  He was commissioned to stop the revolt led by N’kantu.  Nephrus failed in this task, but he did have the Swarili chieftain mummified alive in Supernatural Thrillers #5.  Millennia later he took possession of a descendant, Gamal Hassan, but was defeated by the efforts of the Thing and the Living Mummy in Marvel Two-In-One #95.

NEXT ISSUE

Strange Tales #32: Monsters Unleashed - Featuring the Frankenstein Monster
Victor Von Frankenstein returns to Castle Frankenstein to bring about the destruction of his creation.  Can the Monster stop his creator?