“Hunh.”

“Does that mean yes?”

“It means hunh.” The man who’d answered was tall and stocky, his form hidden behind a gray and black bodysuit. He wore a hood over his head, a thin, stiff fin springing from just above his eyes to the back of his neck. A pair of tinted goggles completed the ensemble, protecting his eyes from the harsh light thrown by the holographic figure before him.

He sat in his chair, legs crossed, fingers interlaced under his chin and examined the flickering wraith that had appeared before him. It was a cacophony of faces and voices all underplayed with a mechanical burr that set his teeth on edge. He looked up at the shifting ovoid that served as the wraith’s head and blew out the breath he’d been holding.

“Fine.”

“Excellent. You will be well rewarded Killer Shark.”

“You’d best hope so Mockingbird…or whatever your real name is. Otherwise I’ll happily hunt you down and strip the meat off of your bones.” Killer Shark leaned forward, eyes glinting. His teeth had been filed to points and clicked when he smiled. “Now, what’s the job?”

“A rescue mission.”

Mockingbird flickered, flared and faded, to be replaced by the hologram of an undersea fortress. Killer Shark nodded.

“Atlantean.”

“Indeed.” Mockingbird’s oddly stilted voice replied. “An Atlantean prison to be exact. They keep the worst criminals there. The most dangerous. You must break into it and secure for us a certain prisoner.” The hologram shifted again and the form of a man appeared, lithe and clad in a black bodysuit similar to Killer Shark’s own. Hiding his features was a squat, round helmet that gave him an altogether alien appearance.

“His name is Black Manta.”

THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA
Issue #5
DEEP-SIX

Somewhere off the coast of Hawaii.

“Settle down Nanaue.” Killer Shark said, tapping the glass with his fingers. On the other side, the metahuman monstrosity known as King Shark hissed and slammed his webbed fists against the glass. He floated inside a cramped tube of pressure-tested material, thanks to the wily efforts of the yellow hooded, purple clad man standing behind Killer Shark, legs crossed, fingers leafing through a water-proof dossier. Killer Shark looked at him.

“He give you much trouble, Fisherman?”

“He was a fighter, I’ll give him that. But not too bright.”

King Shark snarled inside his tube and redoubled his efforts. The Fisherman shook his head.

“Thing’s dangerous. I lost two men.”

“Two less men you had to pay then.”

“Still, I hope you’ve thought this through.”

“Oh I have. You read the dossier I put together?”

“Very informative.” Fisherman closed the folder with a snap. “Standard prison break really.”

“Except-”

“Atlantean prison. Yeah.” Fisherman fell silent. The two costumed criminals walked through the corridors of the Killer Shark’s submersible. “That’s going to be a pickle.”

“We’re going to need more than just the freak back there, is what it means.”

“What’s the likelihood of us encountering Curry?”

“Aquaman? No clue. He’s got a lot of ocean to protect. Still, that’s why our next two recruits are on the list.”

“Hunh.” Fisherman examined the list.

“What?”

“How many people are there with ‘Shark’ in their names?”

“Too many.”

“You trust this-what was it-Mockingbird?”

“The money is in the account. That settles any trust issues I might have had.” Killer Shark grinned. “Besides, it’s a chance to show up the ‘King of the Seven Seas’. You telling me you don’t want a piece of that?”

“I’m just saying we should be careful.” Fisherman said, shrugging. “Who’s next on our list?”

“Someone very unpleasant.”

“Great.” Fisherman said, without enthusiasm.

“Cheer up. Amount of money we’re getting, it’ll be worth it.”

“So you say.”

“So I say.” Killer Shark nodded.

Somewhere off the coast of South America.

The bar sat on the edge of the beach and smelled of fish and diesel. It shook on its stilts as the submersible slid through the water towards it and stopped just short. A wave, created by the movement of the lengthy engine, washed over the bar drenching its inhabitants in salt water.

The patrons who were capable of moving under their own power did so as the last dregs of water receded, fleeing out of the bar. All except for one. He stayed, seated in the corner, a hooded sweatshirt covering his upper-body. Gray scaled talons clawed the wood of the table and red eyes narrowed as two figures appeared in the doorway.

“Hello Charybdis. Or is it Piranha Man?” Killer Shark said. Still clad in his wet suit, he had taken the precaution of adding body armor to his ensemble and he carried a bulky looking rifle in his gloved hands. Fisherman stood behind him, leaning on a wickedly gleaming harpoon.

“Neither. I’m nobody. Not anymore.” the red-eyed creature gurgled, lipless mouth snapping off the end of each word. “Just a drifter. Just a monster. Leave me alone.”

“No.” Killer Shark smiled, his teeth flashing. “Get up. You’re coming with us.”

“Are you deaf? I said leave!” Piranha Man roared, standing suddenly and slapping his table aside with an easy movement. “Leave or I’ll gut you!”

“Afraid not. We need you and those fancy abilities of yours…” Killer Shark said. Piranha Man shrieked and charged towards them, shredding his sweatshirt as he came, slate gray flesh shining wetly. He reached for them with wicked claws, eyes blazing wildly.

“Move!” Fisherman shoved Killer Shark aside and hurled his harpoon. The blade narrowly missed Piranha Man, thudding into the floor behind him. The harpoon shuddered, then exploded into something that looked like a giant soap bubble. The bubble flowed around and over the creature, swallowing him whole.

“No!” Piranha Man screeched, struggling against the bubble’s confines. Fisherman helped Killer Shark to his feet.

“See? Just like I said, no fuss, no mess.”

“Fine. I was wrong. I admit it. And you, settle down. We’re here to offer you a job.” Killer Shark said, pointing at the beast in the bubble. Piranha Man howled in reply, redoubling his efforts. Killer Shark glanced at Fisherman. “Can you-”

“Yeah. Step back.” Fisherman tapped a sigil on his belt and the bubble flashed and the smell of grilled fish filled the air. Piranha Man groaned and slumped, shaking his head.

“You ready to listen?”

“I-fine. What do you want?” Piranha Man grunted. Killer Shark nodded.

“That’s better. Almost civilized. As I said, we have an offer for you.”

“What?”

“Money. Revenge. Both in equal measure.”

“Keep talking.”

“We’re going to make Aquaman look bad and we’re going to get paid for it. How does that sound?”

“I don’t need money.”

“You can have my scoop of revenge, how about that?” Killer Shark said.

Somewhere in the Pacific.

“Christ. There’s hundreds of them.” Fisherman said, staring at the swirling melee that was displayed on the view screen. Killer Shark glanced at him.

“Happens when one of those big things dies. Every shark for a thousand miles gathers to feast.”

“What was it?”

“One of the Atlantean pack beasts, I think. Like a cross between a whale and a dragon. Probably died on the caravan route between Atlantis and her outlying colonies. Damn Atlanteans tend to just leave them and let Mother Nature play clean-up.”

“Circle of life.” Piranha Man said, teeth snapping. Fisherman glanced at him.

“How many colonies do they have?”

“Hundreds. At least one in every major body of water.” Killer Shark supplied. “I do business with a few of the further out ones. Run them weapons. Slaves sometimes.”

“Slaves?”

“They like having air-breathers to do their work for them.” Killer Shark said. “For as long as they survive at those depths.”

“Decadent.” Piranha Man said. “They deserve to cease to exist.”

“One thing at a time. He in there?”

“Give me a-yes. Yes, I sense him. His brainwaves are…odd.” Piranha Man said, eyes narrowing. Fisherman looked at him.

“Odd?”

“Strange.”

“That clears it up. How are we going to pick him out?”

“We won’t. He will.” Killer Shark hiked a thumb over his shoulder at Piranha Man. “And then our friend Nanaue will bring him in.”

“Great.”

“You reading me Nanaue?” Killer Shark said, tapping the communicator built into his mask. “Fetch.”

A garbled snarl answered him. Somewhere on the outside skin of the vessel, a porthole slid open and the bulky shape of King Shark slid out into the water, swimming steadily towards the mass of writhing sharks.

“Do your thing.” Killer Shark said, looking at Piranha Man. The former terrorist placed his talons to the sides of his head and concentrated, thoughts sliding eel-quick into the minds of the sharks outside, feeling inside their heads, looking for one in particular. He blinked.

“Got him.”

“Don’t tell me. Tell Nanaue.”

“Quiet. I need quiet.” Piranha Man snarled.

Outside the ship, King Shark stiffened suddenly as the thoughts of the other invaded his mind, showing him his target. He snarled testily, wanting to turn, to attack those who had imprisoned him. But he did not. They had promised him something better. Blood in the water. Seas and messes of it. He shot forward, arrowing towards his primitive kin.

The shark they wanted appeared to be outlined with a softly glowing halo before his eyes. Nanaue slammed into it at full speed, clasping it tightly. It thrashed in shock and Nanaue tightened his grip. He yanked it around and began swimming back towards the submersible.

Teeth fastened on his leg and he snarled in pain. He lost his grip on the shark as he whirled to strike the one that had his leg. He crushed its skull with a single blow but another one slammed against him, teeth sawing into his shoulder.

“Oh hell.” Killer Shark said, standing up. He whirled, glaring at Piranha Man. “Can’t you do something?”

“I can’t control sharks! Not when they’re in a feeding frenzy!”

“Gentlemen? We have a bigger problem. And by big? I mean huge.” Fisherman said, pointing at the screen.

The shark was massive. A prehistoric nightmare, flowing up from the depths of time, barnacles clinging to its hide and whale bones in its teeth. A shadow of the deep. Killer Shark looked at the others.

“Holy sh-”

The Megaladon struck the submersible like a thunderbolt, great teeth chomping down on the hull.

Nanaue took no notice of his partners peril. More teeth dug into him, into his arms and legs. He roared, unhurt for the moment, but angered. His skin was far too thick for the sharks to chew through but he was swiftly becoming the center of a struggling knot of riled up man-eaters.

And then the shark he’d been sent to acquire slammed into his chest, eyes alight with wicked intelligence. Nanaue felt his eyes widen as strong teeth snapped for his throat and clawed hands fastened on his skull.

Kraken Rock. One of the three prisons of Atlantis.

He sat in darkness, the stale smell of himself coating the inside of his nostrils. His helmet was more confining than he’d ever dreamed. His cell was four by four and the ceiling was six high. Just barely enough.

He squatted, hands dangling between his knees and stared through the coral door at his captors.

“Has he said anything yet?” one of the guards asked. The other shook his helmeted head.

“Not a bubble.”

It had been the dictate of King Arthur, better known to the air breathing populace as Aquaman, that the prisoner be guarded at all times by at least two guards. The guards themselves questioned this (though not where anyone could hear). After all, was the silent man not an air breather and therefore inferior? Was he not imprisoned enough, subsisting on oxygen they provided him, unable to swim anywhere?

But the King had insisted.

“He’s a strange one, no two shakes there.”

“Why the King didn’t simply execute him, I don’t know.”

They continued speaking in low tones, but the silent man was no longer listening. Instead, he was concentrating on the face that had appeared on the inside of his helmet. It spoke softly to him, in a cacophonous rattle of voices.

“Hello Black Manta. Our name is Mockingbird. And we have an offer for you…”

TO BE CONTINUED

Next Issue: DEVIL & THE DEEP BLUE SEA continues as the Secret Six prepare to gather their final member and begin their assault on Kraken Rock! But will they succeed or will a certain sea-going super-hero interfere? Be here in thirty for ‘SIBLING RIVALRY’!