The Glory of the Fourth World....

Not long after the threat of Solaris, the ruler of Apokolips found himself beset by a new and perhaps even greater danger! Hel, Goddess of the Dinhonored Dead, struck out at mighty Orion from her home in Niflheim, hoping to capture the souls of the New Gods so that her army might be reborn. Dark days are here for the New Gods! Tremble in fear!

25th Issue Spectacular!

Written by Barry Reese
with special thanks given to Gregg Allinson

Prelude to
"The Fifth World"

Metron maneuvered his chair, his eyes fixed on things that normal men could not see. Equations and words danced in his mind's eye, the product of a mind that had seen and assimilated far too much for any one entity to bear. So many lies had been told about the denizens of the world below and its lovelier sister, the world known as New Genesis. Such lies were understandable, he supposed, because whenever gods were involved, myths were inevitable.

Metron did not glance at the beautiful young female who had appeared at his side. She wore a shimmering green bodysuit that plunged daringly low in the front.. Her blue-black hair was pulled back into a long ponytail and her violet eyes shone with a cold fury that made many think of mighty Orion himself. "Today is the day that everything changes," Metron intoned, his expression never changing. "You are welcome to stay beside me and bear witness if you wish, Justiana."

"It would be difficult to tear myself away from you," the girl said with a nasty grin. "Your winning charm makes my heart melt."

"You spent far too many years amongst humanity," Metron responded, his gaze falling upon one of the many toppled statues of Darkseid. The bulk of the statue had been dragged away but the massive head of the idol remained on the ground, as if in final taunting to those who missed the reign of the dark lord. "How many years were you on Earth?"

Justiana did not answer for a moment but when she did, her voice had softened somewhat. Like all the New Gods, she was driven by powerful impulses. Where Metron was a creature of curiosity, she was full of passion for love and violence in equal amounts. In battle, she flew at the head of any army, preferring to engage the strongest opponents in hand to hand combat rather than tap into the natural energy reserves she possessed. "I was raised on Earth," she explained. "Dumped there during one of the many periods of war between New Genesis and Apokolips. I was found as an infant in the great city of Chicago. I was adopted by an Earth couple and thought myself a human until my natural abilities manifested. Highfather Izaya -- may he rest in the Source -- found me annd brought me home some ten of our years ago."

"And do you identify more with the residents of New Genesis or the men and women in Chicago?"

"Is it?" Metron turned to look at her, his eyes narrowing. "It seems as if it would be an obvious enough answer. Is your innate nature of a New God superior to that of your upbringing? Is it nature or nurture?"

Justiana crossed her arms over her chest, looking lithe and powerful. "I would choose my human parents if forced to do so."

Metron nodded, as if pleased with her answer. "Then you alone might survive what is to come."

Takion felt a shift in the Source, though he could not quite place its origin. The only living being with a direct connection to the all-powerful energy that linked all things, Takion was able to commune with the cosmos in a way that no one else could. But there were times when his human upbringing came to the fore and he was in awe of all that surrounded him. Born Josh Saunders, he had become psychologist despite the difficulties presented by his blindness. Izaya had come to him, calling him "a man without destiny" and saying that no one would miss him when he was gone. Sadly, Josh had known this to be true. Highfather had transformed Josh into a "Source elemental" and renamed him Takion. After Izaya's death, Takion had come to adopt the title of Highfather as well and become the leader of New Genesis.

The weight of it all was almost overwhelming at times but the majesty of the Source gave him the strength to carry on, even in the face of nearly overwhelming danger.

Takion broke off his reverie and turned away from the fields of flowers that he sometimes found so soothing. "Yes, Lightray?"

The usually cheerful New God looked dour this afternoon and Takion wondered if he too felt the approaching storm. "Barda has gone in search of Orion. They have entered the Infinity Pit."

Takion nodded, sensing the truth in that. Orion was the slayer of Darkseid. Surely there was little that could destroy him. "There is something else, isn't there? The reason behind your being here and not on Apokolips, at your friend's side...."

"Have you not seen what lies over the hill?" Lightray asked, obviously troubled to see Highfather caught unawares of this thing, whatever it was. "Have you not felt it?"

"There is something causing tremors in the Source," Takion responded, growing concerned. "But I have not seen a sign of what it is."

Together they moved quickly through the tall grasses, paying no attention to the serene beauty that surrounded them. Over the hill, Takion saw something that made him gasp aloud.

There, burning in the grasses, was a message writ in flame. That it came from the Source was beyond question but the starkness of the message chilled him to the bone:

FLEE!

Scott Free tossed and turned in his bed. The quarters in which he now slept had once belonged to Granny Goodness, the tyrant who had ruled over the orphanages on Apokolips with an iron hand. Since her downfall, the erstwhile Mr. Miracle had taken over many of her old duties, attempting to instill bravery and loyalty in his young charges, rather than the fear and submission that Granny had sought. It had been a difficult battle, as the terror of Darkseid and his minions was ingrained deep into the blood of the Apokoliptians and Scott found himself battling against that dark legacy on a daily basis.

But now, in his dreams, the universe's greatest escape artist had found something from which he could not get free.

"You're dead," he whispered, hanging limply in chains that rose from the floor and dangled from the ceiling. He was suspended over a fire pit, the heat rising up to burn his lungs. He bled from a dozen or more wounds, one eye swollen shut so that he could scarcely see out of it.

A mammoth figure stood nearby with hands folded behind his back. He was shrouded in shadow, though his eyes glowed like fiery red coals. "Death has little meaning for beings like us, Scott Free. What a disappointment you were... child of New Genesis, raised amongst my people. And in the end, you chose your basic nature rather than the training given you. What separates men from beasts is our ability to learn... to change."

"That's funny coming from you. You seek the Anti-Life Equation so you can strip self-determination away from the universe!"

"A gross misunderstanding of my ultimate aims, Scott Free." From the shadows emerged the very vision of evil and determination: Darkseid. "I desire far more than mere control."

Scott forced a smile on his face, once more seeing the ray of light through the clouds. "Even if you're back, Orion will kill you in the end. Prophecy says--"

"Prophecy!" Darkseid exclaimed with a hoarse laugh of derision. "Prophecy is written in the past, speaking of the future." Darkseid leaned forward, close to Scott's face. "But what if someone is able to rewrite the past, thereby shaping the future? What if they make the prophecy something else entirely?"

Mr. Miracle stared at him, the blood freezing in his veins. "What do you mean....?"

Darkseid began laughing louder, turning his back on the boy he had raised on Apokolips. Mr. Miracle called after him, desperate to know the truth, but before anything further could be gained from the dream, he was awake, sitting up in his bed with heart pounding.

Scott rose quickly, all too aware that Barda still wasn't back from her mission to retrieve Orion. He tried to avoid worrying about her -- if there was any woman alive capable of handling herself, it was his precious Barda -- and instead picked up a Mother Box that lay on the nightstand next to his bed. "Mother, contact Highfather -- tell him I've had a vision that disturbs me greatly."

Henry Lucas crept through the tall grasses, elephant gun held tightly in his firm grip. He was a massively well-built man with slicked back dark hair and a thick moustache. His khaki-colored pants and white shirt strained to contain the rippling muscles within. In his late forties, he retained the vitality of a much younger man and he enjoyed outings such as these, when he could show off the skills he’d honed over a lifetime of hard work.

He paused just shy of the watering hole, the smell of wildebeests reaching his nostrils. He raised his head just enough to check that the herd remained where he had thought it was. The group was composed mainly of does and young bucks, their manner showing no sign of concern. He had managed to move within twenty yards of them without giving away any trace of his presence.

The snapping of a twig behind him made him wince and sent the herd into full alert. The young ones moved to the safety of their mothers while the does turned their heads in the direction of the sound, their bodies ready to bolt if need be.

Prof. Samuel Evans moved up beside Lucas, his bushy white eyebrows comically raised. He wore a safari hat and loose-fitting clothing. A small handgun was held in his right hand but the barrel shook so badly that Lucas doubted the professor could have hit a target located directly in front of him. The older man was an expert in zoology but he’d never stepped foot outside a classroom… at least not until his daughter had paid for the current safari trip to Africa. “Good heavens,” the professor murmured, his voice carrying too loudly. The wildebeests began to run, keeping their herd as tightly knit as possible. “Look at them go!”

Lucas straightened up, setting the butt of his rifle down on the ground. He tried to contain his annoyance, reminding himself of the money he was being paid. “Professor, I thought I’d made it clear to you… if you want to actually bag one of these beasts, you have to as quiet as a mouse!”

The professor sighed, letting his shoulders droop. Even standing straight up, he barely came the shoulders of his guide. “This is all new to me, I’m afraid. I must be a dreadful trouble for you.”

“Not at all,” Lucas lied, smiling through gritted teeth. He examined the horizon, noting that the sun was beginning to sink behind the clouds. “Night is approaching. We’d best head back to camp. Maybe that pretty little daughter of yours has that stew finished by now.”

The professor began to amble good-naturedly next to Lucas, stopping every now and again to examine some bit of foliage or an unusual insect. Once or twice, he retrieved a pair of tweezers and a little matchbox from his pockets, capturing a bug to save for later examination. Lucas found the man’s prattling frustrating but it was all worth it – not only for the large sum of money that Lucas was being paid but also for the opportunity to spend time with the professor’s daughter, a buxom young brunette named Melody. The girl was, strangely enough, far more at home in the wilds than her father. She’d already impressed Lucas with her ability to handle a pistol and she’d barely batted an eyelash at the thought of bathing in streams, unlike many of the other city girls who’d accompanied their men on hunts into the jungle.

“Your girl,” Lucas said as the two men closed in on the camp they’d set up nearby. “Is she engaged to anyone?”

“Hmm?” the professor responded, staring up at a chattering monkey. The little beast was eating a piece of fruit, dropping the outer skins of the meal onto the ground below. “Melody isn’t the marrying type, I’m afraid. Too devoted to her studies. Can’t imagine where she gets it,” he laughed with a shake of his head.

If the professor took note of the gleam in his companion’s eye, he gave no sign of it. Instead, the old man moved quickly ahead, bursting into the small camp and exclaiming “You should have seen them, darling! Wildebeests! A whole herd of them!”

Melody Evans was seated on the ground near a small fire, feeding the flames with broken twigs. A small pot rested above the flames, the aroma of vegetable stew filling the air. She smiled at the sight of her father and blushed a bit under the steady gaze of Lucas. Melody had a fine figure and was used to the attentions of men but Lucas had a way of undressing her with his eyes that made her sometimes shiver. Self-consciously, she rose to her feet, smoothing down the folds of her knee-length skirt and adjusting the white blouse she wore. The jungle heat had caused her to leave her legs bare beneath the skirt and the top few buttons of her blouse were undone, exposing the barest hint of her ample cleavage. She had long blonde hair that was matted down from the humid air but still managed to look attractive. “That’s excellent, father,” she said, moving to join the professor. “I knew you’d enjoy this trip.”

“An excellent idea,” he agreed, squeezing her hand. “And I’ve found so many interesting bugs! The entomology department is going to be singing my praises once they see these things!”

Lucas lit up a cigarette and turned away from them, rummaging through his supplies. They still had two more days before they reached their goal: the Easternmost edge of the Congo. He wasn’t sure about the weather, however. He could smell a storm on the way, one of the ones that would drench the land in a torrential downpour. He thought about encouraging the professor to turn back now but the sound of Melody’s voice made him ignore that idea. The more time he had with Miss Evans, the better. Lucas considered himself quite the ladies man and he planned to add another notch to his belt before the trip was done.

The trio talked over the course their trip would take over dinner. The sun retreated away, leaving behind a well-lit sky as a full moon moved into view. The night air was surprisingly chilly and a strong wind blew through the camp, occasionally sending the professor or his daughter scurrying to save some of the old man’s papers.

After the meal was completed, Lucas moved into the foliage to have another smoke. While doing so, he caught the whiff of something of in the air. Narrowing his eyes, he stood stock still for a moment more, straining to hear any sounds that might confirm his suspicions. To his growing dismay, he heard the movements of men – several of them – in the shadows surrounding the camp. He began walking back towards camp, moving as nonchalantly as possible. With any luck, he’d be able to make it back to his things and get his rifle. The only weapon he had on his person now was a pistol and it didn’t carry as much punch as he would have liked.

He had just returned to the camp when a group of ten men burst from the jungle, each naked save for loin cloths and necklaces of teeth and claw. The men were painted in odd fashion with white circles and squares adorning their ebony bodies. Each bore a long shaft tipped with a sharp spear. The language they screamed as they ran forward was unknown to Lucas, who was at least somewhat familiar with all the major tribes in the air.

The professor and his daughter both reacted with surprise, Melody letting out an ear-piercing scream that echoed in the jungle, drawing howls from various monkeys in reply. One of the men reached Melody and gripped her painfully by the arm, continuing his mad gibbering as he did so.

Lucas had seen enough. Drawing his pistol, he ran forward and shouted “Unhand her, you lout!”

His sudden appearance sent the invaders into a renewed frenzy. Two of them set about destroying the tents and kicking dirt onto the fire. The one holding Melody backhanded the professor and drew the struggling girl closer to him, retreating back into the gathering shadows. The first drops of rain began to fall as the other blacks began to move towards Lucas. The huntsman discharged his weapon, the bullets striking home in the brains of two of his enemies. Before he could fire again, one of the men was upon him, jabbing with a sharpened spear. Lucas felt searing pain in his left side as the blade dug deep and the warrior gave it a painful twist before withdrawing it.

Lucas fell to his knees, the sounds of Melody’s screams growing fainter as she was led away into the jungle. The professor lay on the ground nearby, his head lying at an awkward angle, blood trickling from the old man’s mouth. “Damned savages,” Lucas wheezed, struggling to stay conscious. He stared into the eyes of his attackers, one of whom was moving towards him slowly. “Best kill me,” Lucas warned, “or I swear by God and Heaven I’ll track every last one of you down and take my revenge!”

The man knelt in front of Lucas, flashing a toothy grin. In surprisingly good English, the native said “You will do no such thing. Your soul will feed the hunger of the Gods.” The savage gestured for his fellow warriors to grip Lucas by the shoulders and arms. Held fast, Lucas tried to break free but was far too weak to accomplish much. The native who had spoken to him moved away, returning a moment later with a stick whose end was dripping with some form of white paint. He drew a symbol on the hunter’s forehead and then stepped back as if studying his work.

“We are servants of the Reborn God,” the man replied. “I am called Carou and I am one of Darkseid's priests on Earth!”

Before Lucas could say anything else, Carou had raised his spear and spun it around over his head. He slammed the butt of the spear into the white man’s head, knocking him over.

The royal chamber on Apokolips had undergone many changes since Orion came to power. Gone was the fearful monstrosity of a throne upon which Darkseid had once sat. In its place was a utilitarian chair that was built for function rather than intimidation. Virman Vundabar missed some of the old ways, but he was a survivor at heart. No matter what happened around him, he would adapt and eventually flourish.

Even so, he half hoped that Orion would not return from the Infinity Pit. The son of Darkseid was so mercurial that it made Vundabar uncomfortable. But if he were to not return... Vundabar might be able to ally those still loyal to the old guard and seize power himself, reinstating many of Darkseid's policies.

Unfortunately, those hopes had been dashed completely. Reports had come to him that Orion -- alongside Barda and two youngsters named Styggan and Jena had returned from the Infinity Pit. What had happened down there was still a bit unclear but Vandabar had already heard rumors that they had encountered one of the Old Gods, which seemed impossible.

Vundabar stiffened at the sound of Orion's voice. He whirled about to see the sovereign ruler of Apokolips entering the great chamber, flanked by Barda and the two youngsters. All four looked battle-weary and somewhat confused, but it was Orion's garb that most surprised Vundabar, for it was not his usual battle armor. He instead wore a garishly colored red, yellow and blue uniform that hadn't been seen on Apokolips or New Genesis in many years. "Most powerful and fearsome Orion -- Welcome home!"

Orion gestured him away, pain registering on his face even through the mask he wore. He settled down wearily in the throne. "I have no patience for your prattling, you spineless worm!"

"Mother will heal all that needs healing," Orion replied, removing his Mother Box from its compartment on his uniform. It pinged softly as he slid it over his battered form. "What have I missed?"

"Reports have come from New Genesis, indicating a dire warning from the Source." Vundabar waited until Barda and the children had left, the three of them exchanging brief goodbyes with Orion. "Your attire," he began, letting the comment hang in the air.

"You're imagining things," Orion barked. "I have worn this uniform for many years. Are you unwell?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Orion's face darkened. "It... is best not spoken of. But it is a threat no longer."

When Vundabar was gone, Orion sat alone in his throne room. He brought his fingertips up to his brow and massaged his temples gently. There was a headache buzzing there and he felt mounting frustration... he'd lied somewhat to Vundabar. Truth be told, he remembered nothing of their trip out of the Infinity Pit. What had happened to Hel? How had Barda and the others found them? How had they escaped?

Orion opened his eyes and stared down at his uniform. It felt good and right to be wearing this.

Melody Evans woke up with a start, quickly discovering that her arms and legs were tightly bound in spread-eagle fashion. She was hanging painfully from a cave wall, while the tribesman moved about before her, many of them now wearing masks that made them look like their faces were carved of rock.

"She's awake," a rumbling voice stated and Melody jerked in her bonds. The tribesmen turned to face her, excitement making their bodies tense and ready.

"Please... where's my father? If you let me go, I promise I won't tell anyone about this....."

"Your father is dead," the voice replied. Melody strained to find its source but couldn't see him in the flickering shadows of the cave. Several torches mounted on the wall had flames that danced madly, casting the entire scene into a nightmarish sense of unreality. "I share an understanding of the pain this news must bring you."

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" Melody sobbed, straining against her bonds to no avail.

"These men... they share an appreciation for the legacy that is Darkseid's. He ruled Apokolips with an iron fist and it was his destiny to claim all the cosmos as his own. But one of his sons struck him down. I have taken up the fallen scepter... I seek the Anti-Life Equation. A portion of it was locked within the mind of your companion Henry Lucas. I have cut out the portion of his brain where this information was stored."

The rumbling voice chuckled in laughter and its owner moved into view. He was massive and extremely dangerous looking. "Some might say so. All over the galaxy right now, the scattered remnants of my father's legacy are moving into place. I control the armies and the dreams of my enemies... they just don't know it yet. Darkseid's image will be remembered for all time. His teachings shall be taught to all the children of life. And everyone will chant one phrase again and again:

Next Issue: The Fifth World begins! Who is Carou and what role does this strange Congo cult play in the rise of Grayven? And why in the world is Orion dressed like that? The most epic storyline in the history of Faux-DC is about to begin! Guest-starring members of Faux-DC's Forgotten Heroes!

Welcome! It is my deep honor to continue this series, which was written most recently by Gregg Allinson. It's been nearly seven years between issues but here we are with # 25! Let me say right away that I will never be as much of a New Gods fanatic as Gregg was -- I'm a fan but not an expert in all the minutiae. I'll do my best to stay true to established continuity, though.

I apologize if you had high hopes for some epic battle against Hel, but that particular storyline was one that I wanted to move past while not simply ignoring. The full story of what happened will be revealed over time but for now what you need to know is this: Hel is no longer a threat and Orion has undergone some serious changes.

This will be an ensemble series with lots of characters coming and going. Don't expect anyone to dominate for very long. I'll hit all your favorite during the course of The Fifth World, which will leave us with many exciting new directions. Look for some major tie-ins to my other Faux-DC series, Forgotten Heroes. I'm going to try and recreate a little of the Kirby magic, when he had New Gods, Jimmy Olsen and multiple titles all linked together in surprising fashion.