2013.09.11 - Chicken of the Sea

Place: HYDRA Base - North Atlantic Ocean
Time: 19:55, Tuesday
The interior of one of HYDRA's secret bases is probably exactly what one would expect. Polished surfaces contrast with flashing lights, uncomfortable-looking furniture, and the black uniforms of the many operatives walking to and fro in an attempt to finish their tasks (or to look busy, if they don't have one).
The majority of the operatives are either helping the scientists set up pieces of equipment, or they are setting up a perimeter around the large hunk of sciencetech. Another group of operatives is dressed in a much different fashion, their ornate robes signifying their status as HYDRA mystics. These mystics work rapidly, spreading what appears to be vast amounts of red paint all over the polished metallic floor in an intricate, vaguely circular pattern.
"Commander, will the final preparations be completed tonight, or should I retire to my quarters to flip through dossiers of potential replacements?" A cold, chalky voice rasps over one of the loudspeakers, apparently indifferent to the possibility of reducing the Commander's credibility in front of his men.
The addressed Commander replies, again within earshot of nearly everyone. "Herr Skull, the final adjustments are being made even as we speak. We await only your order to initiate the ritual."
A deadly silence is the only response the Commander receives from the Invisible Ghost Voice.
"Very well, Herr Skull" The Commander for some reason uses a strange hybridization of the Skull's English and German names "We will begin immediately." He signals to both the mystics and the technicians, and the ritual begins. Lights glow, mystics chant, and the beginnings of a doorway begin opening within the red circle drawn by the mystics.
Opening a portal to Mojoworld is sort of like punching a hole in the side of your submarine. You don't so much enter Mojoworld as it enters you.
The red circle shimmers and sizzles and opens like a hungry maw, crackling tendrils of yellow-pink energy storming up from another world, from the space between worlds, from the Wildways.
Five metal fingers click-clack one by one onto the floor, coming up from beneath. A metal hand, one of six hands in total, and it's leveraged to send Spiral somersaulting up from the portal to hover, legs crossed daintily, before her supplicants. "Spiral heard you speak her name, Red Skull." Her mouth quirks into a grin, revealing perfect pearly teeth. "What would you bid of me?"
"Ah... apparently you're not the only one here who is preceded by her reputation." A thick German accent capped with excellent English grammar gives the raspy voice an especially sinister tone. The Red Skull remains seated in his chair, looking up at the summoned apparition made flesh and steel. He appears to feel quite secure and comfortable, surrounded as he is by more than a dozen HYDRA agents. "I like to know who I am dealing with at all times, so I've done my research. You're, unfortunately, a hard woman to learn about, so I had to get a bit creative when thinking up a welcoming gift."
He nods at one of his attendants, and the signal is given for a massive door to be opened. Four HYDRA agents wheel out a large squarish object covered with a black velvet cloth. It is wheeled in between The Skull and Spiral, after which the agents stand guard next to it.
"This is, I hope, something that you'll find as fascinating as I do. I currently find myself in the unique position of spending nearly all of my time deep beneath the ocean's surface. While here, I keep my mind active by researching the various oceanic phenomenon that our vessels come across. Imagine my excitement when my men came across this..."
The black velvet cloth is removed from the tank, revealing an honest to goodness pair of mermaids.
"My scientists are convinced that these two are most likely the very last of their particular breed, based on their genetics."
Spiral licks her lips.
"Oh, but you have outdone yourself." She drops to the ground like a spider or a crab, all sharp limbs and glittering eyes. Pressing her face up against the glass, she smiles. "Yes... oh, yes, these pretties will do so lovely." The sorceress drums her fingers against the glass, leaving the merfolk cowering back into a corner of the tank. "Shh, poppets. There will be plenty of time to get acquainted later." Her head cocks back up to regard the Skull. "Tell us what you want, Herr Schädel. Spiral can weave anything."
Slowly, the man with the face that only a dead mother could love stands to his feet. He pulls the front of his black uniform down to straighten out any 'sitting wrinkles' and walks around the tank in order to stand closer to his guest. The already-worried faces of the poor mermaids immediately twist into looks of pure terror and they cling to each other like desperate children.
"I'm glad to hear you say that, because I've a request that might stretch even your capabilities. However, what I want is not for others to hear. I must ask you to join me away from prying ears. Perhaps in my personal dining room, I've taken the liberty of asking the cooks to prepare something that, I'm beginning to suspect, you'll enjoy quite a bit." He offers his arm, perhaps wishing for the first time in his life that he had more of them.
Somewhere, in the deepest-cloistered shard of her shattered mind, the woman Spiral had been before she was Spiral screamed, protested, knew that this thing, this man before her, was the kind of evil she despised. But Spiral had been broken and rebroken and birthed fresh-new under Mojo's care, was a creature of his ineffable chaos now, and before the sick, rich laughter of The Lifebringer the evil of mortals was like dust in a whirlwind.
"I should like that very much. I am rather famished, to be quite honest!" She taps the side of her nose with one of her flesh and blood forefingers, taking his arm with one of her fully-functional cybernetic limbs. "I've been location scouting, you see. Very exacting work."
Although the agents continue to watch her a bit suspiciously, they apparently know better than to follow the Skull as he walks the visitor down one of the more impressive corridors. The long corridor is an arched walkway, with completely transparent panels for the 'ceiling' and walls. It all makes it a bit more obvious that they are, in fact, at the bottom of the ocean.
"Location scouting, you say? To what end?"
"More research to be done, I think," Spiral says, chuckling low in her throat. "What do you know of the Wildways, Red Skull? Of the electricity and energy that cascades through your body from your television screens, into the earth, through the very fabric of time and space itself?" She tilts her head up wistfully, eyeing the undersea sights and sounds with vague interest. "Entertainment is what we live for. It is everything. And location is everything on top of everything. Location, location, location." The witch-woman nods a bit. "This would be a very nice set for a docudrama."
One of the advantages of having a skullface is the ease with which one can hide his expression when he suddenly realizes that he's walking arm in arm with a crazy woman. "Well, I know enough to bring you here. For now, that is enough for me. But here we are..." He places his hand on a panel in front of the door at the end of the corridor. The panel flashes with recognition and the metal doors 'whoosh' open. He steps in, checking behind him to ensure that the corridor is empty per his instructions. "And now I'd like to introduce you to the real reason that you're here: The Red Skull."
Sitting slumped at a long, dramatic table with a wine glass in his hand, a man who looks nearly identical to the one who greeted Spiral sits. However, something about the way that he carries himself gives off the impression that he's worse for wear than the relatively strapping man who escorted her to the dining room. With a voice that's even raspier, and quite a bit weaker, he calls out over his wine glass. "Thank you Werner, you may tell the chef to bring us dinner at his earliest convenience." The Imposter Skull nods, clicks his heels together, and leaves the room without wasting any time.
"I knew," Spiral whispers, to nobody in particular. She nods affirmatively to herself. "Knew it was you who spoke my name, knew you both spoke it but one was true and one was false, two red deaths but one mind between you." With a balletic leap, she hovers over to the other side of the table... and perches atop it for a moment, peering down the length of it at the infamous Red Skull. "Spiral always knows who speaks her name. Remember that, mein herr."
Slinking down into her chair, Spiral sets all six of her hands daintily on the table. She raps 30 fingers. "You don't look very well," she says.
"Normally I would find that impertinent." In a quiet, almost broken voice the man gently scolds his guest. "But... as you can see... I haven't much time left for social niceties." He needs a few seconds to breathe, during which he sloshes the wine in his glass around half-heartedly. "Even a man such as I, a man who embodies the highest of human ideals, a man who strides the line between the peak of humanity and godhood with such grace that the heavens themselves weep in despair, a man who has built so much, a man who has done so many great works..." Another few seconds of breathing are required after his run-on sentence "Even a man like that, it seems, must die."
"But I refuse..."
"So you call the Witch of the Wildways, mm?" Spiral clucks her tongue.
With a flick of her wrist, a sword gleams to life in Spiral's hand. She eyes the blade speculatively. "Nothing comes easy, poppet, as I'm sure you know." Her wicked smile is all teeth. So many teeth. "Staving off death comes least easy of all. But Spiral can do it. I can do anything. Where there is a will there is a way, and I have all the will of the very cosmos." The blade sings through the air as she flourishes it idly. "But are you willing to pay the price? This is the question. Not merely a price to me, to Spiral, no. There will be personal costs."
The feeble yet desperate way in which the monster looks up at her should be more than proof enough of his willingness to pay. However, even if that were not enough to suffice, the arrival of the chef surely would be. "Ah... here it is now... splendid... " Red Skull's breaths come in fits and wheezes in between words. "You'll forgive me, but I must introduce the meal... with a short... story." He pulls himself up a bit higher in his chair, and his breathing becomes less labored. "Years ago, when we built this base at the ocean's floor, the area was infested with marine wildlife... of a most repulsive nature." He sets his wine glass down as the chef wheels the cart over to the table, and with the aid of two assistants, lifts the covered tray up onto the table in between Skull and Spiral.
"This wildlife was troublesome, and interrupted construction. So I began to hunt it. At first... they were plentiful, and I brought back to the base enough seafood to meet our needs many times over. Still, the wildlife was destructive and problematic. But I knew... yes, I knew that I would prevail..." He leans forward a bit more, supporting his weight with the table.
"It has been years since I made my resolution, and now here we are, ready to enjoy one of the last of these creatures." The chef moves finishes arranging everything on the table, and prepares to remove the tray's cover. "I trust you enjoyed your gifts? They were supposed to inform you that they were the last of their kind. What they did not tell you is just how certain I was of this fact." The tray is removed, revealing a mermaid that has obviously been steamed alive.
"If I would spend my precious free time reducing a species to extinction, just imagine the lengths I will go to in order to reward the one who manages to give me back my body."
"Incidentally, I find the meat around the gills to be the most flavorful."
Spiral lays her sword on the table, throws back her head, and laughs.
And laughs.
And laughs.
Category:Log