The Serpent Society in…

ANCIENT HISTORIES, NEW BEGINNINGS

By Jan Oudshoorn

Scott Wright woke with a start. It was still the middle of the night, but nevertheless he sat up in his bed, coughing and gagging. He grabbed a glass of water he kept on his bedside, and drank from it. Taking a few deep breaths, he relaxed a little and his breathing settled back to normal standards. He still felt tired, but was reluctant to go back to sleep, lest the dream began over again. Putting on a shirt and some pants, he headed into his living room and turned on the television. A re-run of the old movie Vikings was on, featuring Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis. Without any particular interest in the movie, Scott sat down in his comfortable chair and started watching.

The dreams he had been having lately were always the same, that much Scott knew. The only thing he could actually remember was being surrounded by lots of people, even being cheered by them for some reason, and then, out of nowhere, he would come. A giant of a man would burst through the floor beneath his feet, causing him to fall over. Then the giant would wrap his huge hands around his neck and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze… until he woke up. That was all the detail Scott would be able to remember after waking. The dream would come to Scott night after night; always the same, and sometimes Scott felt like he would almost be able to remember what the dream meant. He knew the imagery was somehow significant, but why was a mystery.

The dreams, or rather nightmares, had not done him much good. Scott was a chef at a lunchroom, specialising in seafood in the town of Savannah, Georgia. He would be up on his feet most of the day, and his lack of sleep was starting to seriously affect him. Usually, when he got to work, he looked as if he hadn’t slept at all. His short, bristling brown hair would stand up on his head, the walls under his light blue eyes would be noticeable by all, and sometimes he would even forget to shave. Instead of thirty, he looked positively ancient, and Scott was none too happy with that. His girlfriend had left him, too, since the dreams started. At first she had been very understanding, but after three weeks, she had enough of his waking up screaming and choking. Telling Scott that she didn’t want any more weirdo’s in her life, she had left and not answered any of his calls. All because of his stupid dreams.

Trying to keep his mind of his dreams, that disturbed him more and more every night, Scott tried to get into the movie he was watching. It had the usual 50’s cheesiness, featuring Vikings with long hair, colourful clothes, axes and, worst of all, helmets with little horns on them. Instead of laughing at the idiocy of the movie, Scott was actively annoyed by all the details the film had gotten wrong. When Tony Curtis called Thor the God of War, he almost threw a fit and turned of the television, but something compelled him to keep watching. Something… familiar…

Outside Scott’s second story apartment, two individuals were talking in an alley. One was male, the other female, and both wore a trench coat and a brimmed hat. In a way, they might as well have written “suspicious character” on their forehead, but the clothes hid far more outlandish attire. The man wore a purple bodysuit, with a stylised snakehead on the front, and had a purple snakehead on his head. The woman wore black and pink spandex and a facemask, and had bright pink hair. They called themselves Cottonmouth and Coachwhip respectively, and tonight they were on a stakeout.

“I’m tellin’ya… Ah am so glad we’re all back together!” the man said.

“You are, are you? Me, I’m just back for the cash…” the female answered.

“Are you crazy? This Serpent Society we were in was the best deal any of us evah had, girl!”

“Maybe for you, Quincy. Me, I was doing just fine on my own.”

“Is that a fact? Then if y’all were doin’ so great, why’d you come back in the first place?”

“Like I said, the money. I can use the cash, and this sounded like easy pickings!” Coachwhip answered.

“Sure is! All we gotta do is put a little scare in a wimpy cook… Whoever’s payin’ us for this is outta his cottonpickin’ mind!” Cottonmouth answered.

“Now see, I don’t get that…. How come you, as a black man, can call things cottonpicking and yourself cottonmouth? If I say it, it’s racist!”

“Same reason y’all can call yerself a bitch, an’ ah can’t. Bitch!”

“You watch that mouth, Quincy… All of it!” Coachwhip threatened, though not very seriously. Truth be told, she was as happy about the old Serpent Society coming back together as Cottonmouth. Belonging to a team of costumed super-criminals that all used snake themes was her first big break, and although she had managed to support herself with some random heists and some mercenary jobs, she did have fond memories of the Society.

“CM, CW, come in!” a voice sounded over the radio-transmitter. It was the voice of Klaus Voorhees, King Cobra and current leader of the Serpent Society.

“We’re here, KC!” Cottonmouth answered the call.

“Look alive down there! It’s on! BM and DA are about to knock down the target’s door, and they’ll chase him in your direction” King Cobra said.

“You love this stuff, dontcha?” Cottonmouth said to King Cobra, as Coachwhip smiled.

“I love earning a lot for one night’s work. Now, get ready!”

“We will. DB out!” Coachwhip answered, rolling her eyes at King Cobra’s seriousness, and both she and Cottonmouth looked up at the dimly lit apartment across the street.

Scott Wright left the television as a commercial break came on, and headed into the kitchen to grab a beer. Although it was winter, and he was sparsely dressed, he always felt warm lately. Scott considered the fact that he had caught some virus, and that his dreams were feverish tricks of the mind, but somehow that conclusion felt wrong. Coming back to the living room, Scott saw that the movie had already continued. He was about to sit down once again, when all of a sudden the door to his apartment was smashed in with a loud noise. Scott looked up, and saw two very strange and frightening creatures enter his home. One looked like a man from the waist up, and had a huge snake-like lower body. He was black and bald, and had to large curved knives attached to his hands. The other was dressed in purple and green, and had a snake’s head with a large fin on top of it, gigantic claws instead of fingers of both hands and feet, and wicked barbed tail.

Scott was momentarily stunned and terrified of the two monstrous home-invaders, but as adrenaline kicked in, he came to his senses. He threw the beer-bottle at the fin-head, and ran into his bedroom. There, Scott opened the window and climbed out of his home to get to the fire escape. Quickly making his way down the stairs and ladders, he was sure that the two monsters wouldn’t be able to follow him down that fast. Running out into the street, Scott quickly cursed the fact that was barefoot, and he looked around to see if anyone pursued him. He than ran into an alley where he found a homeless man sleeping. Deciding he absolutely needed shoes to avoid any attackers, he woke the homeless man.

“Hey! Buddy! Wake up!” Scott called and shook the homeless man.

“Huh? Whazzat? Huh? Go away!” the man answered, and tried to shake loose Scott’s hands.

“Buddy! Hey! I need your shoes!” Scott said, still shaking the man.

“Go away! I got no shoes for you!” the man answered, finally opening his eyes.

“I need them! I’ll buy them! Come by the Savannah Shrimp Restaurant tomorrow, on Riverside, and I’ll give you two hundred bucks for them! What do you say?” Scott begged the man.

“Piss off!” the man said, and struck Scott in the face. Scott stumbled backwards, and saw the man glaring at him. He felt a rage come over him, and the whole world turned a deep red before his eyes.

“KC, come in!” Coachwhip called into her transmitter.

“What have you got, CW?” the voice of King Cobra answered.

“I’ve got our target, hiding out in an alley two blocks from his house. Where are BS and… Oh, hell… Where are Bushmaster and Death Adder?”

“Use the abbreviations, CW!” King Cobra said.

“Fine! Where are they?”

“They are coming to your position. I want you four to take up positions on opposing ends of the alley, if possible. You attack him with your whips; chase him out of the alley toward Riverside. Can you do that?”

“Sure! You got it, boss! Where are Anaconda and Rattler?”

“CW! Please!”

“Yeah, okay…. A and R… Where are they?”

“Waiting in one of the squares in the old centre… That’s where you’re chasing him, right?”

“Okay… We’ll go… CW out…”

Scott was busy putting on a pair of old army boots that probably saw action on the beaches of France in WW2, when he suddenly realised where he was again. He started coughing again, as in his mind he had just relived getting choked by a giant man once more. But there was another image in his mind. He saw himself on an elevated podium, surrounded by dark, monstrous, almost demonic creatures. He was holding a golden box, like a jewellery chest over his head, and remembered somehow being extremely satisfied. Shaking his head, as if that would clear away the strange imagery from his mind, Scott looked around and was shocked by what he saw lying next to him in the alley. It was the homeless man, but he had been beaten to a pulp. His body was contorted at odd angles, indicating that all four of his limbs had been broken. The worst however was the man’s head. It had been ripped of the man’s shoulders, and thrown aside, several feet from the rest of his body.

Scott started coughing and choking again, vomiting up his evening meal. He clearly remembered now that he had been the one that killed and mutilated the homeless man. Over a pair of shoes! All of a sudden the two monstrous creatures that had burst into his apartment came to his mind, and Scott finally freaked out. He looked around in the alley, as if somewhere among the dirt, garbage cans and debris the creatures might be lurking. How was it possible that he only now realised that there were two actual monsters after him? And how could it be that somehow he had not only killed but also mutilated a man with his bare hands. Scott looked at his hands, and saw they were covered with blood. Nothing made sense… And it was all connected to his strange dreams.

As he fastened his shoelaces, Scott considered his options. Was he insane? Had there even been monsters? Or had the dreams driven him over the edge and into a violent episode? Scott didn’t know what to do, but he felt horrible and very hot, even though it was only a few degree’s above zero, as winter had come even to sub-tropical Savannah. Whatever happened next, Scott knew he was a murderer, and after staring at the bloody scene in front of him for a few more minutes, he decided to go to the police to turn himself in. Suddenly, a steel whip flew by his head, striking the wall. Scott turned around, and saw a woman dressed in yellow coming at him, the whip connected to her gauntlet. Terrified, he started running again as the woman’s whip struck his ankle.

Running from the alley, and into the street, Scott had to decide on turning left or right. When he looked to the left, he saw a man dressed in a purple costume come at him. The man had large fangs and an incredibly big mouth, which Scott’s head would probably fit in at least four times. Afraid for his life, he turned right and started running again, as the man with the huge maw followed him. After having run a few minutes, he chanced a glance over his shoulder, and saw to his horror that the snakelike man and the clawed monster were following him as well now. Panicking, Scott started running towards the historic city-centre, with its willow-covered squares. When he passed an all night diner, he quickly ran inside.

“KC, we have sort of a situation here!” the bald snake-man called Bushmaster spoke into his transmitter.

“What is it, BM?” came King Cobra’s voice.

“The subject just went into a diner, not far from the town centre,” Bushmaster replied.

“Damn.”

“Do you want us to pursue? We could crash into the diner. That will certainly put the fear of God in him!”

“That’s a negative. Wait, I’ll come over to sort this out. Keep an eye on him.”

“Okay, boss… Oh wait…. CW has something!”

“What is it, CW?” King Cobra asked.

“Klaus, we have a much bigger problem here!” Coachwhip said, taking over the conversation.

“Use the abbreviations, CW! Now, what sort of problem?”

“This guy we’re chasing? That’s no regular Joe-the-plumber, KC!”

“Why? What happened?”

“I told you he was hiding out in an alley, right? Well, he wasn’t the only one in that alley. There was also some homeless guy there, and I swear to God, our guy brutalised that man!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that he took the guy apart! Literally! I’m talking head-removed-from-body here! He broke every bone in his goddamn body!”

For a moment it was silent, as Cottonmouth, Bushmaster and Death Adder all looked at Coachwhip in surprise.

“Wait there. I’ll see you soon. KC out,” King Cobra said, and started heading over to the diner where his team was waiting outside. Klaus Voorhees AKA King Cobra was concerned about the assignment he had brought the Serpent Society back together for. It seemed like a golden deal to the serpents; scaring some guy and picking up four million dollars for it. Easy money, and a great way to get the old Serpent Society running again. Now it seemed that, as usual, there was no such thing as Money For Nothing, apart from in bad eighties-rock.

The client who had given the assignment had found Klaus online, and soon a meeting was arranged. During the meeting, the client had remained hidden in a limousine with blackened windows. When he had gathered most of the original Serpent Society together, he had told them all about the simple assignment: stake out the home of a nobody named Scott Wright, wait until you see he gets up in the middle of the night, and than attack him to scare the living hell out of him, so much that he passes out from fear. The client had even paid Klaus half of the fee upfront. All of the Serpent’s he had gathered were eager to take the job. The deal seemed almost to good to be true, so it came as no real surprise that it was.

“Well hello, hasty fellow!” a waitress said as Scott ran inside the diner to take up a position at a table in the back, with his back to the wall and his eyes on the door. The waitress followed Scott to his table and asked what he wanted. Scott ordered just coffee, and then started thinking about his situation. Three monsters were on his trail, as was a punk-girl in tight spandex. Scott had no idea what they wanted from him, and nervously watched the door while also removing the one throwing diamond the punk-girl had hit him with in his leg. As he studied it, Scott saw that was in all likelihood a real diamond, and then started questioning why the wound didn’t hurt a lot more. The other nine people in the diner paid no attention to Scott, and went about their business of drinking coffee and eating meals that could easily pass for breakfast, lunch or supper. Scott put the diamond in his pocket, and looked the other people over one by one, but saw nothing strange about them. He allowed himself to relax a little, and leaning on his arms, he gave in to his fatigue.

In his dreams, he saw himself in a ruined castle on a hill by the sea, among a group of dark demonic creatures. They were waiting for the arrival of the two men that were walking up the side of the hill, one a middle-aged man with a brown leather jacket and a baseball cap, the other… It was Thor! Thor of the Avengers, Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, Thor, one of the most powerful beings to ever walk the earth. What was this? Scott looked at himself, and saw he was wearing the strangest costume. It was black on the left, and dark red on the right. He had a tunic on, with strips of fabric hanging around his waist. He wore pants and boots, and all of it followed the same black-red pattern. Then Scott noticed his hands. One was black; the other was a very light blue. He also noticed his hair, which fell over his shoulders and down his back. What had he turned into? And although Scott realised, even in his dream, that it wasn’t real, Scott was scared out of his mind. Then the image of the castle changed, and he saw himself looking up at a giant once more, having the life choked out of him.

“You sure you don’t want anything with that?” the waitress asked, rousing Scott from his sleep.

“Oh… uh… No… No, that’s fine…” Scott answered, and immediately grew anxious again. His anxiety grew when he saw a white bald man in a trench coat enter the diner, looking around as if he was searching for something or somebody. When he saw Scott sitting in the back, he came straight towards the frightened man.

“Mr. Wright?” the bald man asked.

“Who are you?” Scott asked back.

“My name is Klaus Voorhees. I’m here to talk to you about your reckless behaviour”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that you are putting all of the people in this diner in danger. There are very dangerous people after you, Mr. Wright”

“How do you know?”

Because I am one of them. Now, I’m going to offer you a choice. You can either go outside, or my associates will come in here, and break this place into a thousand pieces, with you and everyone in it” Klaus said.

“Why? I don’t know you!” Scott said, feeling his temper rise.

“Because I have been paid to do this. Am I making myself clear?”

“Very clear!” Scott said, his voice sounding much deeper all of a sudden, and the world went red once again.

“I’m telling you guys, this is no longer the easy money job King Cobra said it would be!” Coachwhip said to the other three waiting outside with her. Death Adder, being mute, said nothing, but did nod in agreement with Coachwhip.

“Girl, ah swear ah nevah woulda figured y’all fer a chicken!” Cottonmouth said.

“I do not think this has anything to do with being chicken, Cottonmouth,” Bushmaster said, “I think it’s wise to be cautious. Clearly there is more to this man than meets the eye. I wonder, did anyone else notice how quickly the man was running?”

“What about it?” Cottonmouth asked.

“Well, Coachwhip’s whip hit his leg. Yet, he ran at full speed, as if he was not hurt at all!”

“Oh, so this guy is Wolverine all of a sudden? Goin’ berserk? Healin’ powers?” Cottonmouth asked.

“Do not joke about Wolverine, Cottonmouth!” Bushmaster said.

“Pffff… Dumb fuck is dead, an’ good riddance ah say!” Cottonmouth dismissed Bushmaster.

“Quincy, you’re a fun guy” Coachwhip said, “but I swear you are one dumb mothe….”

CRASH

Something was thrown through the window of the diner by a loud and strong blast of energy. The three serpents went over to look what is was, and they saw it was their leader, King Cobra. There was a giant wound on his chest, and a strange chill emanated from it. Bushmaster was the first to look up, and saw something he had never seen before in his life. It looked like a stream of black mist with a man’s face attached to the front end that came flying out of the diner and disappeared into the night.

“That face!” Bushmaster called out.

“Looked an awful lot like our boy Scotty!” Cottonmouth answered.

“Are you high, Quincy? The guy just turned into a goddamn swirl of mist, and this is not freaking you out?” Coachwhip shouted.

“Honey, ah have a mouth that can swallow y’all whole, Bushmaster here is basically ah snake with a human head, an’ don’ even get me started about Death Adder here! We’re all a bunch o’ freaks!” Cottonmouth answered.

“Yeah… But we’re supposed to be… This is supposed to be a regular guy!” Coachwhip protested.

“Coachwhip’s right… Uhn…” King Cobra grunted as he got up, “This is guy is not normal… Call Anaconda and Rattler… We’re calling of the job…”

“Why?” Cottonmouth asked.

“Why?” King Cobra asked as he got back to his feet, “Because this was supposed to be an easy job, you idiot! Easy money, setting us up nice, see if the old chemistry is still there… Now, it’s turned into something different… We’re fighting a guy with super-powers!”

“No offence, Klaus, but isn’t that what we should be doing?” Bushmaster asked.

“Eventually, yes! But not now, not after we’ve been apart for so long. I’m just trying to get this business back on its feet. Sidewinder had a great idea back then, and we managed to mess it up by throwing in with the Viper, remember? We sold Sidewinder out, and we were never that good again after that happened!”

“But…. Think about it, Klaus! The guy that contacted you… Got you to set this up…. Ah reckon he knew this was no ordinary Joe…. Maybe he’s just testing us out… See what we can do… This could be the start of a fabulous new career for the Serpent Society!” Cottonmouth said.

King Cobra was silent for a while, and looked around at the faces of his four team members.

“You all feel this way? That we should continue?” King Cobra asked.

“Hell, yeah!” Cottonmouth said enthusiastically.

“We might as well finish this job now. Earn some money and see what comes of it” Bushmaster put in, as Death Adder simply nodded his agreement.

“You guys are all crazy, but what the hell… Let’s do it!” Coachwhip said.

“Okay then…” King Cobra sighed, “Get Anaconda and Rattler on the line, tell them to meet us here, with the van. Coachwhip, I suppose you got the transmitter into him?”

“I’m pretty sure I did… The whip broke his skin, so the micro-transmitter should be in his bloodstream. If the guy is still in town, we should be able to find him,” Coachwhip replied.

“Very well” King Cobra said, clutching his wounded chest that still felt abnormally cold, “After all, our employer said he wanted our men passed out from fear, but he’ll probably settle for unconscious and maimed!”

When Scott regained his senses, he recognised right away where he was. He was in the Riverside restaurant he worked at, Savannah Shrimp. In a haze, he remembered what had happened since he lost control. He had somehow blasted ice from his hands, and had then flown across town to where he was now. Scott knew that it couldn’t be true, but on the other hand he was certain that it was exactly what had happened. Firing ice, turning into black mist, flying. It was too incredible to believe!

What was also quite incredible was what had been going through his mind. He saw himself, as the strange black-blue coloured man, sitting on a throne holding court, surrounded by the dark demonic things. He remembered how an old, grey-bearded, one-eyed Viking-lord had entered his court, and told him that the power of winter no longer was in his possession. After that, there had been darkness until a giant made of fire released him from the dark. Then he had the same visions he already experienced, of the ruined castle and the golden jewellery chest. He fought with none other then Thor, and the golden chest was smashed, covering the world in ice and snow. Scott also remembered sending his most powerful servant to his death in battle. And of course there was the image of a giant man choking him to death.

“This cannot go on!” Scott thought to himself. The visions were unknown to him, yet every time he experienced them, they felt more real, like a secret that was slowly revealing itself to him. Were the images visions, or were they memories, long buried and now coming back to him? And what about the snakes? What was their part in this? Why were they hounding him all over town? Scott couldn’t answer any of the questions he was asking himself. All he knew was that he was alone, afraid and possibly going insane. Not bad for a weeknight.

Scott walked into the kitchen, and set out to make himself a sandwich. He loved cooking and preparing foot, and it always made him feel happy. Although Scott enjoyed good food, he never ate in any restaurant himself. Everything he ate, he always prepared himself. For as long as Scott could remember, this had been his way. Suddenly it hit Scott. For as long as he could remember wasn’t very long at all! His oldest memories only went back about five years, when he came to Savannah and started working at Savannah Shrimp. Everything before that was a blur, and when Scott tried to focus his thoughts to dig up a memory from his life before Savannah, he found he couldn’t. There was simply nothing there!

As Scott continued to try and dig up a memory from his youth, he felt himself slipping away into darkness, until he could see again. He imagined himself in the Dark realm of Svartalfheim, one of the nine worlds of Asgard. He was a freak among freaks, as he was very different from the dark demonic creatures that lived there, the Dark Elves. He turned to studies of Sorcery, and eventually came to rule over the realm. In his possession, he had the golden chest, known as The Casket of Ancient Winters. His possession of the Casket, that contained the force and power of every winter that had ever come to the world, made him powerful. The Gods of Asgard, All-Father Odin and the Mighty Thor, couldn’t touch him as long he held the Casket over their heads. Opening it would release all of its power, and cause the Fimbul-winter, the final winter on Earth before the destruction of all the nine worlds.

When a mortal stole the casket, Odin was quick to remove him as a threat. The fire-giant Surtur had brought him back to find and release the Fimbul-winter, as Surtur wished to destroy creation and all the gods with it. Scott remembered agreeing to this, in order to punish the gods. A descendant of the mortal that had stolen it in the first place ironically destroyed the Casket. It seemed he would get his revenge and Surtur would destroy creation, but alas. Surtur was defeated, and this left him without the Casket and without any protection.

Trying to regain a position of power, he disguised himself as the god Balder, who was chosen to rule Asgard after Odin had seemingly perished in combat with Surtur. At the culmination of this scheme, a giant warrior clad in yellow and red, showed up. It was the servant who had died in his service, and now called himself Kurse. Having expanded too much power to gain the throne of Asgard, he had no defence against Kurse, and the giant Dark Elf had killed him…

Only he hadn’t. Not really. It had caused him to reincarnate in a mortal guise, but Scott finally understood who he was. The visions were reality, and Scott Wright was the lie. He was the rightful ruler of the Dark Elves of Svartalfheim, and his name was…. Malekith, The Accursed! As Scott realised all this, his form shifted and took on the appearance of the man he had imagined himself as. There he was, dressed in the black and red costume, and with his long hair and black-blue skin. It felt good to be himself again. Malekith was ready for whatever snake-man that came after him. The powers of ice, illusion, shape shifting, flight and runic magic were all his, and Malekith almost hoped the snake-men would come for him.

It was close on 5:30 in the morning, when the Serpent Society gathered on the Riverside boardwalk in Savannah. King Cobra, Coachwhip, Cottonmouth, Death Adder and Bushmaster were standing outside the Savannah Shrimp restaurant, joined by their other two members, Anaconda and Rattler. Anaconda was a huge muscled woman, dressed in a green costume with short blonde hair. Although she looked human at first sight, her skin was slightly scaly, and her arms looked a little odd, as she had the power to elongate them to crush opponents. Rattler was a man in a brown and beige costume, which covered his entire body, including his face. He had a 7-foot tail that allowed him to create sonic disruptions.

“Okay, so we’re all here…” King Cobra said.

“I’m telling you, we have to get the Serpent Saucer back. Fitting all seven of us in a van is just not my idea of a good time!” Anaconda said.

“Hush, Anna! We’re still tryin’ to take the subtle approach, ya hear?” Cottonmouth said, earning an angry glare from Anaconda.

“So what’s the plan now? Rattler asked, also a little to loud because he was partly deaf in both ears.

“God, Gustav… Will ya quiet down?” Cottonmouth spoke up again.

“Or what? Are you afraid?” Rattler answered.

“Will all of you please shut up?” Coachwhip said, “Okay, Klaus, what’s the plan?”

“Are you certain that he’s here?” King Cobra asked Coachwhip who was holding a small device that picked up Scott’s signal.

“Damn sure. He’s in there,” Coachwhip answered.

“Okay… Then here’s what we do,” King Cobra said, “I want Coachwhip and Death Adder to head to the back-entrance. If he tries to escape, you two can scare him back inside or throw diamonds at him to make him go back in. Then I want Rattler, Cottonmouth, Bushmaster and Anaconda to go in through the front. Anna, you’re leading the charge.”

“Heh… A strong team should be lead by a strong woman!” Anaconda said.

“Where will you be, Klaus?” Rattler asked.

“I’ll be out here, in case he tries to get out on this end. Now, should the fight go badly, we’ll all come to help you, Anna” King Cobra said.

“Oh come on, Klaus! What could go wrong? Ah am sure we’ll murder the sucker!” Cottonmouth said.

“No! Do not murder him! That is not in the contract, right Klaus?” Bushmaster said.

“That’s right! You can all do whatever unspeakable things you want to the guy, as long as he survives!” King Cobra said.

“Well, I ain’t making no guarantees! Guys head gets between my jaws, ah am chompin’ down!” Cottonmouth said.

“Boss said no killing, Quincy!” Coachwhip berated Cottonmouth, “Do you want your ten grand or not?”

“Okay, okay… So the guy stays in one piece… Relax, y’all!” Cottonmouth answered.

“All right then. Now, everybody, take up your positions. You know what to do!” King Cobra said, and Coachwhip and Death Adder headed for the rear of the restaurant.

“Wait! Guys! One thing I have to say to y’all!” Cottonmouth said.

“What is it?” Bushmaster asked.

“Well, ah just wanna say that ah ‘m as happy as a clam to be working with y’all again. The Serpent Society was a great thing, and ah hope we can all continue after this? What do y’all think?”

“I agree,” Bushmaster said.

“Yeah… It could be fabulous again!” Rattler put in, as Death Adder also nodded his agreement.

“Just think! Maybe we could start charging a million a job again like in the old days!” Coachwhip added with a smile.

“Let’s take care of this first, shall we? Who knows what the future will hold?” King Cobra said.

“Right! Now get to the rear entrance!” Anaconda said, “I’m busting down this door in two minutes!”

Everybody took up their positions and the first attack wave stood ready to go into the restaurant. Cottonmouth looked over his shoulder and was smiling from ear to ear at King Cobra, giving him the thumbs up signal.

“Let the good times roll, y’all!”

Inside the restaurant, Scott Wright, now fully changed into his true form as Malekith the Accursed, the dark elf king of Svartalfheim, stood pondering his options. He had regained his memories, al of them, but still questioned how he survived his own death. Why was he not dining in the halls of Hela, the Asgardian Goddess of Death? And the question of how he ever got to Midgard, the Asgardian name for earth, was also still unanswered. What had happened to him?

Malekith got no chance to pursue his line of thought, as the door to the restaurant was busted open, and Anaconda, Rattler, Bushmaster and Cottonmouth came running at him.

“Spread out, losers! I’m calling dibs on taking the first shot!” Anaconda shouted as the others complied with her order. Malekith raised both his hands and a blue coloured blast was fired from them, hitting Anaconda square in the chest. The blast threw Anaconda back, and she was hurled outside through the door she had just broken down herself.

“Holy shit!” Rattler called, and fired a sonic blast from his tail that took Malekith by surprise. The energy from the blast splintered the tables and chairs in the restaurant, and Malekith quickly tried to get out of the range of the blasts. He stumbled into Bushmaster, who wrapped his enormously heavy tail around Malekith.

“I have him!” Bushmaster shouted, and brought the curved blades on his hands to Malekith’s face as he tried to crush the dark elf in his coils. As Cottonmouth moved in for the kill, with his jaws wide open, Malekith turned to black mist right in front of them. The stream of mist flew over the three serpents, and landed behind Rattler.

“Foul beast! I’ll show you how to splinter wood!” Malekith said as he grabbed Rattler by the neck, “Shergath Mecron Dibaneth!”

Before the astonished eyes of the other serpents, Rattler turned to wood. Malekith then picked up the wooden statue, and smashed it down on the floor with great force. The statue broke into a dozen pieces.

“Rattler!” Bushmaster shouted and sprung at Malekith. Before he was upon him, Malekith shifted his form into that of a ten feet tall armoured warrior, wearing black and red spikes all over his body. He caught Bushmaster by his arms, and ripped them from his torso. The arms were bionic, and Bushmaster continued to slither on the floor. Malekith picked him up by the neck, and turned his other arm into a black, barbed spear, which he then punched through Bushmaster’s chest.

“Serpents! We need help!” Cottonmouth called out, and leaped at Malekith. The dark elf was too fast for Cottonmouth however, even at his great size. Cottonmouth attacked with his enormous jaws open, but one of Malekith’s giant gauntleted fists caught Cottonmouth in the jaw in mid air. His lower jaw shattered, Cottonmouth fell to the floor screaming in pain.

“Er-ehns! Easee! Ell eee!” Cottonmouth tried to scream, but nobody came. Malekith walked calmly towards Cottonmouth, changing back to his normal shape, and blew at him. A great white cloud came from Malekith’s mouth and enveloped Cottonmouth. When the cloud dissipated a few seconds later, Cottonmouth was frozen solid. Malekith smiled wickedly at Cottonmouth, and then kicked him over. The frozen serpent shattered into a million pieces of ice.

“Now, for the stout one,” Malekith said laughing, and walked outside onto the boardwalk. Instead of Anaconda, he found King Cobra standing in his way. He had his wrist-shooter trained on the dark elf, and was sweating profusely.

“You think to shoot me, snake?” Malekith asked.

“That would be the general idea, yes…” King Cobra answered.

“Have you seen what I did to the other snakes?” Malekith said threateningly and took a step closer towards King Cobra.

“I guess you killed them?”

“Killed them? I destroyed them! Like I will destroy you! I am Malekith! I am the fear that lives in the dark places of the nine worlds! I am the power of winter eternal! I am…”

Malekith felt a sudden, burning pain in his back that sent flames through his entire being. He turned around, and saw Coachwhip standing there and Death Adder lunging at him. Sharp iron tips were fitted over Death Adder’s claws, and he struck Malekith in the abdomen with them. Again, unimaginable pain shot through Malekith’s body, and he turned to face King Cobra as he fell to his knees.

“How… How did you know… mortal?” Malekith stammered.

“Cold wrought iron…. I believe you call it, ‘the bane of all dark elves,’ is it not?” King Cobra said, and fired three projectiles from his wrist-shooter into Malekith’s chest. The dark elf gasped one more before he fell on the floor face down.

“Okay, so why did that work?” Anaconda said as she came out of hiding.

“Haven’t got a clue, I must admit. Our employer suggested it to subdue him, after he had re-awakened,” King Cobra answered.

“Cold wrought iron… That’s fairy tale stuff, isn’t it?” Coachwhip asked, and Death Adder merely shrugged.

“Most important thing: it worked,” Anaconda said, sporting the same type of chest-wound King Cobra had, “Now who has that body bag?”

“Its in the van. Let’s get him and ourselves away from here. The iron will not hold him forever!” King Cobra said, and Death Adder hurried of to the van.

“What about the others?” Coachwhip asked, looking over her shoulder into the restaurant at the broken bodies of Bushmaster, Rattler and Cottonmouth

“What about them? They’re dead, aren’t they? That means we don’t even have to pay them their ten grand,” King Cobra said.

“Stupid bastards,” Anaconda remarked, “I swear, when Cottonmouth started talking about how much he enjoyed us all being together again, I almost gagged!”

“They should have realised. The business has gotten a whole lot uglier over the years. The only use for guys like them is as fodder,” King Cobra said, as Death Adder returned with the body bag. They wrapped Malekith in it, and walked back to their van, Anaconda carrying their prize.

On a small dirt road a few miles out of Savannah near the Georgia swamps, King Cobra, Death Adder, Coachwhip and Anaconda stood by their van, the body bag that held Malekith lying in front of them. Another van with blackened windows came riding towards them and pulled up alongside the Serpent’s van. The window by the driver seat opened some 6 inches, not enough to see who was sitting inside.

“Is this him?” a voice came from the van.

“It is,” King Cobra said, as Death Adder opened the zipper of the body bag to show Malekith’s head. In response, a briefcase was shoved through the open window. Coachwhip took it, and opened it, to see it was filled with hundred dollar bills. She nodded at King Cobra.

“We’ll be taking our leave then,” King Cobra said, and the four serpent’s got back into their van, leaving the black van and Malekith behind. As they drove of, Coachwhip opened the briefcase once more, taking out the stacks of money.

“It’s all here, Klaus! Four million dollars!” Coachwhip said cheerfully, and Anaconda smiled as even Death Adder made some shocking movements with his shoulders that indicated he was laughing, too.

“Four million should be able to get us a Serpent Saucer!” King Cobra said, “And then we’ll let everybody know that the Serpent Society is back in business!”