Post by DiscipleofBob on Jan 31, 2015 19:19:35 GMT -5
Agents of SHIELD #6:
HAIL HYDRA
HAIL HYDRA
Somewhere in the Arctic Circle...
Shimmering prismatic ribbons lit up the night sky highlighting the silhouette of a black, private jet. It flew over international waters, no land over the horizon for hundreds of miles. Its black box was recording a flight from the United States to Europe, but the craft was considerably farther north of its intended route. Eventually it approached its true destination, a large rocky iceberg jutting out of the ocean.
The island wasn't registered on any map. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, it was just another floating iceberg doomed to eventually corrode to global warming, but in reality it was so much more.
Only when the jet drew close enough, and the pilot had opened up communications and exchanged secret callsigns, were the landing pads, well-disguised turrets, and large metal buildings carved into the ice, become truly visible.
With forces like SHIELD patrolling the world, a more enterprising organization would have to get creative in order to survive. An unmapped island, in the middle of nowhere, with the aurora borealis to explain any necessary jamming frequencies made just such a location.
The jet landed on a large landing strip along with dozens of other similar crafts, some of which were the private luxury jets of world leaders, elite businessmen, and other influential with enough capital to get themselves here personally. Most of the aircraft were repurposed military grade fighters, cargo jets, and personnel carriers, emblazoned with the tentacle skull emblem of their hosts.
Two guards in thick, winterized military uniforms, not unlike the designs of SHIELD but with the same tentacle-skull emblem, hustled out to meet the latest arrival of many visitors, helping to unfold the landing ramp, and the imposing figure stepped down. His long dark cloak flapped in the northern winds, but otherwise he was dressed for elegance, not warmth. His black Armani suit pressed perfectly with a blood red tie, accentuated by white opera gloves and silver and ruby jewels. He was flanked by two muscular men in pinstripe suits, trenchcoats, and fedoras, as their master had certain tastes he considered aesthetically pleasing. Though he normally walked with an unearthly grace, now he hobbled with a slight limp, one leg slightly redder and soiled than the other, his diamond-tipped cane now actually serving a practical use.
Both guards thrusts both fists in the air enthusiastically. "HAIL HYDRA!"
Count Nefaria paid them no mind as he stepped off the plane, continuing to shout above the cold. "That impertinent brat! Who does he think he is?! If it weren't for the supposed urgency of this meeting, I would have him quartered! I'd toss his legs into the Hudson, bury his arms in cement, and feed his head to pigs!"
Still aboard the ship was a lean woman, covered head to toe in a skintight, dark blue uniform as stylish and elegant as it was efficient. Her long dark hair whipped in the wind, but her face was concealed by a golden mask. "Please calm down! You've been ranting the entire trip! You haven't even eaten!" she implored the Count.
Count Nefaria grumbled and reluctantly turned towards one of the nearby HYDRA guards. His gloved hand shot out and grabbed the guard by the neck. Neither of the HYDRA guards reacted to one suddenly being throttled, not that they would have had any time to. Instead, both HYDRA guards stood at attention with arms raised, though the one in Count Nefaria's grasp began to falter. Dark crimson energy poured from his body through Nefaria's arm to the rest of the Count's body, and as the HYDRA agent lost any strength he had left, Nefaria breathed a sigh of relief.
Done with his victim, Nefaria tossed the guard to the ground, now just a shriveled corpse and dust inside a shell of body armor. "There, will you stop doting on me like some invalid old man?!" Nefaria said back to his daughter, only slightly less grouchy than before.
In response, she addressed the two Maggia bodyguards instead, visibly annoyed despite the mask hiding her facial expression. "You two. Make sure my father doesn't cause a diplomatic incident."
"Yes, Madame Masque."
She sighed at the guards' response. "The name. The disguise. Is this really all necessary?" she asked her father, who had calmed down considerably after his 'snack.'
"Enemies are everywhere, my dear. We spare no expense or caution for your safety." Count Nefaria was a shrewd man who acknowledged his own weaknesses. If the other Maggia families, or HYDRA, knew of her true identity, they would not hesitate to use her as leverage. At the same time, being the daughter and heir of the Nefaria family meant that 'Masque' could not divorce herself completely from Maggia politics. "Stay alert. Keep the jet primed."
"You expect trouble?"
"With HYDRA, I always expect the worst," Nefaria replied as he followed the remaining HYDRA guard past the iron doors into the heart of the base.
Count Nefaria and his enforcers were led down the corridors of the HYDRA base, escorted by several HYDRA guards, including the one left from the landing pad who made certain he was no longer the closest
Most parts of the HYDRA base every bit the military installation they seemed, with long metal hallways reminiscent of a WW2 submarine in style and architecture, but with vastly more advanced technology interwoven in its walls. They were lined with thick sealed doors, some guarded by HYDRA, some locked, some both. Of course even then, this was only the 'official' route for dignitaries and guests of HYDRA. Hidden behind these walls and deep beneath these floors was an army of agents training for the day they would one day rise up and take back the world for HYDRA.
Only Nefaria noticed when their boots stopped clapping against iron and instead stepped upon plush green carpeting, patterned with the symbol of HYDRA. Eventually he was led to ornate double doors with two HYDRA guards, who simultaneously bowed and pulled them back.
In contrast to the dingy grey metal and stifling corridors, the room where everyone was gathered was a large ballroom sculpted entirely of ice, every detail perfected to masterwork quality, from the Roman-style statues to the crystalline chandelier.
More important than the fixtures was the crowd. Crime lords. Terrorists. Gang leaders. Tyrants. Despots. CEOs. Morally deprived scientists. At least one U.S. Senator. Count Nefaria knew most if not everyone here by reputation. Some he'd even brokered deals with in the past. In one corner, CEO Roderick Kingsley of Serval Industries was brokering some kind of deal with other business-types, perhaps even insider trading. In another corner, wining, dining, and laughing with other guests was the ever so extravagant Sebastian Shaw of the Hellfire Club. His Victorian coat and frills made Nefaria look positively modern by comparison.
The Count was one of the last to arrive, this convention of HYDRA leaders from around the world running so close to his meeting with the other Maggia family heads.
There was a head table strategically placed to look over the entire room at once. Normally, at its center would be Zemo or Strucker, or if they were making joint appearances two thrones would be erected equidistant so one could not claim an unspoken advantage of the other. Strangely, though, while Zemo and Strucker were present, between them was an empty chair in the dead center of the table. Knowing that both would die before relinquishing their positions at the head of HYDRA, the Count could only speculate as to the purpose of the center seat.
On the far left of the table was Death himself, or so it seemed. The body armor was well-concealed by his black cape. Skull and crossbones insignias warned anyone that this man was the personification of death itself, the assassin widely recognized in his trade as the Grim Reaper. His weapon of choice, the scythe-blade attached to his hand, was 'sheathed' as much as it could be, folded back at his arm so he wouldn't automatically destroy anyone and anything that came near. Count Nefaria briefly wondered what the going rate would be to hire the Reaper to take care of two Maggia heads and one brat in red.
Next to him, the aptly named, beautiful but deadly Viper gazed out at the crowd, probably determining who, if anybody, would be her plaything and/or victim for the night. She was something of a cheerleader for HYDRA, embracing the dark green completely with long dyed hair and lipstick, along with a fetishistic leather ensemble that left nothing to the imagination except for maybe how she could stay warm in this glacier. The answer, many reasoned, was that she was probably so cold-blooded the low temperatures didn't bother her. Some would see her as a psychotic dominatrix, and they'd be right, but one who commanded the attentions of much of HYDRA's leadership, including the personal ear of Zemo and Strucker.
Then sat Baron Zemo, specifically the third member of the family to bear the name, but only the second to accept the title and the inheritance of his position in HYDRA. The original Baron Zemo had been executed for war crimes, but his grandson took right after him when he came of age, even adopting a slightly modernized version of the uniform and mask. Whereas the first Zemo was forced to wear a mask as the result of a horrific accident, this Zemo wore it and the crown to prove his nobility.
The other Baron, Strucker, was a survivor of the original HYDRA of the 1940's, and looked the part. What was once probably an actual uniform of a Nazi officer had been retrofitted, the swastikas replaced with HYDRA emblems. One of his hands had been either replaced or equipped with a red, thorny-edged claw of sorts. It was one of many tools at the Baron's disposal, and far more deadly than a simple gauntlet. Strucker retained some signs of his age, but like Nefaria and certainly others present here, he had found ways to cheat his own mortality.
Finally, next to Strucker, was by far the most eccentric of the group, which was definitely saying something. A large mechanical suit with inflated limbs masking a cybernetic skeleton was covered in a sort of black lab coat, covering all but monstrously sized hands. In the center of his torso was a large, antiquated computer screen displaying grainy green images of a squat old man, the image of the HYDRA scientist Arnim Zola, whose consciousness had been uploaded to this strange contraption. In place of its head was a large security camera mounted where the neck should be. History had recorded that Arnim Zola's testimony was responsible for, among other things, the capture and execution of the first Baron Zemo, but it seemed after all these years he'd earned his place back in HYDRA's upper ranks as their lead scientist.
For a while, it was a night of the usual pleasantries: bragging about personal triumphs, brokering secret deals, watching constantly for assassination attempts. Finally, Baron Zemo stood up and clinked his glass to begin his speech. When that failed to get the attentions of the entire room, he angrily motioned to Arnim Zola, who pressed a few buttons on his arms as suddenly a violently loud buzz sounded over the intercom. That turned their attention, but Viper had already set her mind on helping as well. Drawing a pistol, she fired several rounds at the ceiling until the ice chandelier crashed down in the center of the room. Fortunately, anyone in the center of the room had the wits to move out of the way in time. "Thank you, Zola. Viper, that was... overkill," Zemo said as Viper smiled and nodded a 'you're welcome' in return.
"Friends. In 1942, while the rest of Europe was squabbling over land and ethnicity, there was a man with a vision. Germany had set its sights on conquering the world, but only one man had the vision and fortitude to rule it. He founded HYDRA with like-minded individuals like Baron Von Strucker and my grandfather. It is because of this glorious man that we are here today. Whatever your reason for being here, be it money, power, or vengeance, we owe all of this to one man. No doubt you are wondering why I have insisted on this meeting so suddenly." There were a few nods and murmurs of agreement.
"I have brought you here, today, because of this one man. A man who has led HYDRA to greatness in the past... and will do so again. Friends, I present to you, after nearly 70 years of slumber, the return of HYDRA's greatest hero, the Red Skull!" Stepping from behind the double doors behind the head table, dressed in full black HYDRA regalia, was the man with blood-red skin and the unmistakable face that had tormented the world for years, the subject of legend across the world, the Red Skull.
The murmurs intensified throughout the room. Questions. Doubts. Concerns. One man, an oil baron from the Middle East, spoke up. "What is this? A new Red Skull? Some kind of copy? Some kind of joke?" Viper already had her pistol drawn, and Zemo's hand shot to his sword at the flagrant insult, but a quick gesture from the Red Skull stilled them, even the impulsive Viper, and silenced the room.
"Thank you for the introductions, Zemo. I will take it from here." Zemo and Viper took their seats as Red Skull stepped down from the head table to walk among the crowd, who subconsciously backed up to give Red Skull a wide berth. You are wise and right to ask questions," the Red Skull spoke slowly in a deep voice that resonated throughout the chamber. "It is a tale so fantastic, I can hardly believe it myself. To be standing 70 years in the future before my glorious HYDRA, alongside an old friend who's survived this long," he said motioning to Strucker, "and alongside the grandson of another," he said again motioning to Zemo. "The facts are this: I AM the one and only Red Skull." There were still unsure murmurs from the crowd.
"For those of you who are still unsure, hear me out." His tone had calmed, to the point where he almost seemed friendly. "Looking at all of you, I am reminded of one of HYDRA's mottos, one I'm sure of which you're well aware: cut off one head and two more will take its place." There was some brief applause along with laughter and nods of agreement. "I see you know it well," Red Skull smiled. "Our organization was small in the beginning, and its largest goal was expansion. In order to survive, we had to grow to the point where we could be seen as a true force to be reckoned with compared to even the alliances and axises of other nations. We needed to be feared. We needed to be invincible. The organization that I founded has grown and never stopped growing."
To this, there were cheers and bouts of self-congratulatory applause, until Red Skull's smile vanished, his voice suddenly harsh and angry, as if the devil himself was speaking from hell. "HYDRA has hundreds of heads, each doing nothing but consuming everything around it. The heads may be many, but the body is fat and bloated. Now the heads turn on each other, seeking only to consume, and like the Ouroboros the heads consume each other in a twisted orgy of self-destruction. The HYDRA today is a mockery of that which I left on this earth!" By now, the Red Skull's anger echoed throughout the chamber, but instead of the silence of fear, or the backlash of an insulted audience, there was coughing, at first muted, but then growing louder and more common.
"But I will fix that. I will trim the fat of this bloated organization. I will set our course right." The coughing had progressed into screams. People everywhere were collapsing to the ground, vomiting blood. So many were focused on the Red Skull's speech that they hadn't noticed until at least a tenth of the room had dropped dead. Among them, Count Nefaria turned to see his two guards collapsed on the ground. After a brief panic he realized he had no symptoms himself though, and the leaders at the head table were not only fine, but unsurprised at this turn of events. Nefaria turned over one of the guard's bodies to find his face somehow simultaneously swollen with blood and shriveled, resembling the Red Skull's own monstrous appearance.
"If you are wondering how I can prove myself to be the real Red Skull, to give undeniable evidence to console your fears, my response is: I don't care." Some had tried to escape, but the doors were barred from the other side. Over half the room had fallen to the ground and most of the rest were exhibiting symptoms. Only a few people seemed to remain untouched. "Not all of you die today. For now, I leave you to wonder why exactly you remain. Whether you were spared by design, whether you avoided the calamity the other suffer by luck, or whether you just so happen to be immune for some reason, consider yourselves fortunate. Not lucky, fortunate. Unlike everyone else, the rest of you have an opportunity to prove yourselves worthy." Red Skull grabbed a champagne glass next to the violently convulsing body of one of the victims, moved back to the head table, and raised it, smiling to the rest of the survivors.
"Hail HYDRA," sneered the Red Skull.
After the commotion had died down, the survivors had accepted their fates and the new leadership, and HYDRA grunts were busy cleaning up the bodies, the Red Skull decided to retire for the evening, only to be intercepted in the hallway by Grim Reaper.
"Do you have something to say, assassin? Do you not approve of my methods?" asked Red Skull.
"I don't care one way or the other how you handle the rest of your subordinates."
"Then what is it? It's been a long day of mass murder and I'm quite tired."
"I'll be brief then. I've been in enough organizations to know that with regime changes come contract negotiations."
"You want better pay?"
"I only want to make sure the original agreement is honored. That's the only reason I'm here, and if you want me to kill everyone who's left in that room and then some, I'll do it gladly as long as my original terms are met."
The Red Skull smiled and laughed softly. "You are bold to address me as such. I admire that. Too many of the idiots here are blind fools tripping over themselves to bow and kiss my feet. To find one so bold as to address me directly like this is... refreshing."
"No disrespect. Just making sure I'm not wasting my time."
"Eric Williams, is it? The 'Grim Reaper'? I know your original terms quite well. A shame about your brother's illness. I'm afraid I know no such sibling companionship myself," Red Skull continued his walk, inviting Grim Reaper to follow. "It should come as no surprise that neither Zemo nor Strucker had any intention of finding a cure for your brother's condition, only to keep him stable so that you would continue to work for HYDRA."
The Grim Reaper scowled. "I suspected."
"I, however, am a man of my word. You have done great things for HYDRA so far, and I hope you will do more in the future. I have spoken with Zola directly, and in a few weeks, he believes we will have a definitive treatment that will cure your brother's condition once and for all."
The Grim Reaper stopped in surprise. After years of searching in vain for a cure, he was not only promised a cure, but a set date? "That soon?!"
"Now that I have given Zola proper motivation and reminded him that I, unlike Zemo and Strucker, am not so easily forgiven. I trust this will be enough to satisfy your concerns, Grim Reaper?"
Grim Reaper took one knee and bowed. "You have my blade, now and forever."
Red Skull smiled in return, "I will graciously accept. I have many plans, so much to catch up on in so little time."
To be continued...