In the Depths of the Dungeon (2 of 2)
Creed’s eyes suddenly snapped open. His breath hitched, and in seconds he rolled upright and crouched low on all fours. Amber eyes adjusted effortlessly in the spacious cell he was contained in. Three dark stone walls surrounded him, and a fourth one made of flickering gold light. He himself was still naked, still soaked in sickening splatter.
Creed growled– his throat no longer a gaping hole of gore – and drilled his eyes into the only one the old man had left. Creed began to prowl closer, but after taking one step, all of Odin’s words were yelling in his ear. Chains that Creed could have sworn were metal were now green and serpentine – back when he was the prisoner of a…man…in gold ?
Claws extended when Odin’s incantation tried to enforce that Loki lied to him. Only to be refuted by a painfully tender thought of a Jotunn bigger than he was. Killing him slowly, because the mutant asked for it.
“…Just my luck….” Creed shivered. Recalling the memory as if it happened merely moments ago. “…s-s-soon I start ta’ really like ya...I give ya’ th’ go head…to k-k-kill me in yer’ b-b-b-brother’s bathtub!”
The back and forth only made the brute bellow out in anger and barrel at the only other soul nearby.
“….get….outta my head!”
Creed leaped forward and furiously swiped at the wall of light to take the other eye away from the Allfather. This magic was strange; there was no physical resistance…yet he could not get his claws further through. Which only made him try that much harder.
“GET! OUTTA! MY! HEAD!”
Alas, Creed said something damning. A sign that his resistance to forced mental subjugation did not equal immunity!
“God damn liars! You! Loki! Th’ Gold Man! ALL OF YA’!”
To Creed, “Loki” was a liar. But not the Jotunn. The second creature with sapphire skin and incredible power that earned his respect.
“…an’ I fuckin’ hate liars!” Naturally, since he was one. Eventually, Creed accepted the truth that he couldn’t cut his way out with his claws. So he tried using his words.
“Know what else I hate? Puttin’ my Hunt on pause longer than I gotta. Heh heh heh, and I get a feelin’ ya’ know a little somethin’ about that….Ain’t that right?”
Both palms and Creed’s forehead came to rest against the light wall, making him look even more like a desperate prisoner slumping against bullet proof glass while speaking to a visitor.
“Ever since I found out about ‘cha, I’ve been havin’ wet dreams fer’ th’ chance to get my claws in you! Now I know first-hand: ain’t nothin’ special about you Ass-Guards. There’s just too fuckin’ many of ya’, and when I let’cha cluster, shit goes south. Ya’ know what other species pulls that kind of annoyin’ shit? ANTS!”
Feline eyes narrowed. “…An’ I ain’t gonna waste my time killin’ some pesky bugs when I could be out findin’ my daughter! So let’s talk: Help me get my kid back, an’ I don’t kill you later. Lemme outta this pen right now an’ I won’t eventually break out…. an’ kill you later. Deal?”
Creed didn’t let himself outwardly show the pain that came from the first time he wished death upon the Allfather, but the second time he said it, it felt that someone pressed a scalding hot, cast-iron rod against his kidneys. The feral struggled to keep his threatening stance in check, but something he couldn’t explain was happening to him. Something awful, reminiscent of the time he was…. trapped….in green chains?…in a spacious room adorned with windows and weapons, roaring in rage and pain….