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Posted by Moon Knight
on 2/26/2009, 3:09 am
68.142.171.45
Now Marc Specter endlessly scours the night, searching for evil. His body and very identity shattered from his service to Khonshu, who controls his life...and just may bring about his death.
Abandoned Warehouse Facility, Long Island
“Welcome to my humble abode child of the moon.” The voodoo master stood, his back to me as the zombies drug me up the rusted metal stair case. They dropped me unceremoniously to the ground before him. His accent was a thick Jamaican one and his dread locks fit the persona to a tee as well. “You’d best be glad my minions aren’t the flesh eating kind don’t ya think?”
My mask had been torn aside during the struggle with the Santerian zombies and I tried to survey the scene as best I could given my limited ability to move. Whatever I had been infected or injected with was really working my nervous system over but good. I tried to speak but all that came out was a gurgle and some spit.
“Don’t you be worrying none bout that Palo Mayombe you be feeling coursing through that body of yours none. It will wear off eventually. And just cause I tell you that don’t go getting no ideas in that hero head of yours none either.” The priest rapped on the rusty floor three times with a large wooden staff and the zombies picked me up and me him over toward an altar. “So what you be doin’ snooping around my home, man?”
“Grr tuul hal” Was all I could manage to spit out. It was still better than a few seconds ago though so knew I needed to keep him talking. Hopefully he was like just about every other bad guy and enjoyed his villainous rants.
“That’s no way to be treating your host boy. No way at all. You be knowing ol’ Toro already I assume or else you wouldn’t be here. So I’ll just be getting to know you a little better too.” Toro spun around quickly and stared into my eyes with his own.
His eyes were almost a solid white and I breathed a slight sigh of relief as I realized he was blind and the fact my mask wasn’t on didn’t really matter. I was pretty sure a corner of my mouth flared with a smile but everything felt numb like I had just been to a dentist so I couldn’t really tell.
Toro began speaking Spanish and in my current state it might as well have been in tongues. He tossed some white powder over a small open flame that sat aton the altar and it roared up unleashing a billowing plume of smoke. He moved to my side and ran his fingers across my head and down my chest as he continued his chanting. Then Toro rapped on the floor four more times and I was picked up once again.
This time I was moved across the rusty metal floor and I felt a sharp edge dig into my thigh. Normally this wouldn’t be that good in anyone’s perspective but since I was able to feel it and the following flow of blood down my leg I didn’t care about the prospect of a tetanus shot. All I cared about was that the feeling was returning to my extremities and that meant my muscle control wouldn’t be far behind.
The zombies stopped at the edge of the landing and held me there allowing me to look down at the floor about five stories below. I clenched my jaw and felt the blood swish through my mouth when I accidently bit my tongue. I did not want to go out as a splatter on the ground like I had missed my grapple or some other stupid rookie maneuver.
“Don’t you be worrying man I aint gonna throw you over the edge.” Toro moved closer to me and I started to wonder what the hell he was trying to prove by having these things lug me around like a sack of laundry. “Benito Emanuel Tomas D’oro’s mama raised her boy right. I wouldn’t want you to think I would take the easy way out and kill you dat way. Hell man if I wanted to off you that easy I’d have done did it by now.”
“What do you want with me then?” I was just as surprised as Toro when I was able to actually form the words. I just needed to keep him talking. Just for a little while longer.
Toro must have seen the look of hope in my eyes because he leaned his head back as he laughed. After several seconds he finally was able to compose himself. “Don’t go getting me wrong man. I still mean to kill you. I just need to follow the ritual you know. I need you to atleast look alive when that dog boy of yours brings your friend Drumm here to try and best me.”
The zombies lifted me up and I watched as Toro flung a rope over a support beam and lowered it to my head.
There goes my hopes of keeping him talking.
-TBC-
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