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Zed's been bar hopping most of the night- not that he's getting particularly drunk for his trouble. He's ended up at The Duck- a particularly dirty dive of a bar that doesn't usually see upscale patronage. Its a bar full of black men in the middle of Harlem, with only a few women here and there- not the sort of place most respectable people would be seen. At least, that's how most of New York seems to see it.
Zed sits at the bar, a small bowl of peanuts there for him to nosh on while he drinks a beer straight from the bottle. "I don't know, Tea. Maybe we oughta figure out a way to talk that's not quite so loud and out in the open. People keep staring at me, and its sort of annoying." the dark skinned man says to absolutely no one. He's the only one sitting on his corner of the bar.
*
Namor was working in kind through all of the aquatic-themed bars in this town. He found some amusement in the shells glues to the walls, and the greasy, fried fish pieces that they all tried to serve. Having already hit all of underwater, and then all of the amphibian-titled bars around town (my god there were a lot of drunken frogs in New York) the Prince of the Sea at finally made it to the waterfoul. With a glance around the bar, he confirmed. Water-foul. Better to stick to the alcohol. In a trimmed, clean, wool suit, he stood out among the slovenly patrons - not that he minded - and Namor gathered more than a few glances as he sidled up to the corner of the bar, next to a mumbling stranger.
"A drink when you've got a chance!" He calls out to the idle bartender, who looks to be communicating the disease of depression to his clientele. "Bourbon neat."
*
Most people here would consider Howard much to rich, much too old, and much too white to drink in a place like this. Of course the problem with that is assuming he cares. In spite of a few initial off glances when he came in the mega rich industrialist back from the dead sets at the bar. In one hand he has a Lagavulin, neat. He's on his ninth or tenth glass, and hasn't said a word to anyone. The very well dressed man simply sets in silence the whole time ordering one drink after another as he had been for hours.
*
Most people here would consider Howard much to rich, much too old, and much too white to drink in a place like this. Of course the problem with that is assuming he cares. In spite of a few initial off glances when he came in the mega rich industrialist back from the dead sets at the bar. In one hand he has a Lagavulin, neat. He's on his ninth or tenth glass, and hasn't said a word to anyone. The very well dressed man simply sets in silence the whole time ordering one drink after another as he had been for hours.
*
Zed looks to the gentleman in the fine suit. He notices the ears almost immediately. He only spares Howard the slightest of gazes- the man clearly wants to be alone. Slowly, the black-eyed man's attention returns to Namor, quiet. He doesn't seem the type to judge, and simply lifts his beer in quiet salute. "You look a little out of place here, Friend." he offers, with a truly friendly tone.
There's something about Zed, though. Something odd. Something off. Some of the other humans look at Zed with quiet fear- as if they know him. He's got a look Namor might recognize- that of a warrior. That of a man used to war, and to conflict.
*
Namor smirks as he turns his head, letting his gaze slide up and down the other man apraisingly. He doesn't bother with the politeness of not-staring, and the Atlantean's eyes narrow as he tries to figure out just what this man is. Certainly more than a man… But somehow less. With a sigh he gives up and sifts over a seat, settling onto a stool as he waves teh bartender for a round for them both. "And two for that poor bastard on the other end of the bar." Gesturing to Howard, "He looks like he needs it."
War and conflict were both things the Prince could deal with. He quite enjoyed them on most days - as long as it wasn't his people being slaughtered - And a man shrouded in it, well, warriors made excellent drinking companions. "And if you are as friendly as you sound, I can certainly say the same about you… Friend."
*
Silent at the bar Howard raises his head slightly at the sound of someone new coming into the bar. A light turn of his head is given the expression on his face somewhat serious. It was at bars like this he came to be forgotten, to fall out of the public eye while still being in public.
His attention narrows slowly onto Namor for a moment, before returning back to his drink, a quick moment to kick back the contents of his glass. "Going to take more then two rounds to pay for that sub Namor." As he sends it down to the bartop flicked upside down, another one brought to him fresh. A bit of a quip made through the drink. "Need at least four or five."
*
Zed chuckles quietly, "Call me Zed." he offers to Namor. "And I'd say I'm a friendly sort, to the right kind of people." he says, "There are some people who would say I'm a terrifying, terrible monster. Both would be correct." he offers simply with a quiet smile. "Namor, huh? That's a name I've heard before." he says with a little chuckle, "You busted the Nazis alongside Captain America. That's two World War Two legends I've met in the same twenty-four hour period. Captain America things I'm insane."
*
chuckling, the Prince of the calls over his shoulder to the inventor all to clever for his own good. "And for trespassing in my ocean, you should be buying ME a drink. Maintain diplomatic relations. Be glad liquor is my preferred method of knocking you out tonight Howard!" Namor figures the locals will interpret the oceanic references as some figure of speech. They usually do. Turning back to his newfound drinking companion, he shakes his head. "Sorry about that. An old rivalry."
Their drinks arrive before the Sub-mariner gets to respond properly and, priorities being what they were, he tips back half the glass before responding in a voice low enough that the rest of the bar wouldn't overhear. "Nice to have someone to drink with tonight Zed… The Nazis were almost as bad as Stark over there. Figuring to claim depths that were already claimed. I just helped convince them that submarines in my Ocean were a bad idea." Smirking and all too pleased with himself, he flicks another glance over Zed, "Captain America had his own adgenda. "fighting the enemies of freedom" and all that. If Steve thinks you're insane, you're likely just more interesting than Commanding Officer White Bread can handle."
*
Zed chuckles quietly, "Well, he doesn't believe me when I tell him about my little friend, Tea." he offers to Namor. "You might, though." he offers- and indeed, there was something about Zed that Namor, in particular, might recognize. Something about the Ocean. About Salt Water. "Tea says she created the Oceans. That it was her Salty Waters that Mixed with Fresh to create the world. You've got to expect that of Tiamat, though." he says off hand, sipping his beer. "See, over in Vietnam, I was on a mission with my Squad. Ranger, Special Forces." he explains quietly, a war story. "We were on a Hunter-Killer mission. VietCong meeting with some Russian agents." Zed takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one up. He offers over to Namor quietly. "Fancy a smoke?"
*
"Should have posted no trespassing signs, might have had an easier time keeping me out." Of course that wouldn't have worked to keep Howard from looking for the secrets of the lost world, but it's the thought of the moment that counts. He turns back round to his glass, kicking back a bit of the contents and letting out a low sigh. The remains get swirled around a slight smile crossing his face as he thinks back to times gone by.
*
Namor just shakes his head at the elder Stark's comments. Times gone by indeed. What he wouldn't give for a sub to rip in half these days. If only the UN-protected navies were so simply toyed with. Presently, he registers that the stranger next to him is getting stranger still, names slowly triggering cogs in the back of his mind, turning on concepts of ancient Atlantean lore.
another drink and he eventually manages to catch up, nodding along, encouraging a flashback that might just end up with the murder of a VC villiage. That'd be exciting at least. To the offer, he shakes he head, "No thank you. They dry out my mouth much too quickly…"
*
"Fair enough." Zed replies, putting the pack of cigarettes on the counter as he leans back. "So, we come up to the point where we think they're supposed to be- but, its too quiet, you know? There should have been some movement- some contact with someone. So, we send a scout ahead- and he comes back white as a sheet. Barely speaking, even. Whatever the fuck he saw clearly scared the piss out of him." Zed takes a moment to sip his beer.
"So we all move up, we want to see what the hell has got this guy so white-faced. I mean, it was his first mission with us, so we figured- probably a whole lotta corpses. Maybe someone got tortured or whatever. Shit, no one was ready for what we saw. Just pieces, man. Pieces of people, and who the hell knows what else. Bones jutting out of the ground, meat hanging from the trees. Blood through the whole area."
*
Namor lifts a brow at this. These stories did get interesting quickly. More intersting still was the man doing the telling. No reaction as he relived what was apparently a scene bad enough to change a man. Gods, even Namor didn't talk massacres over drinks. "Some kind of explosion maybe? A bomb that went off too soon?"
*
It was only one of so many massacres that Zed has seen. Been a part of. The Army of Captain America- the Just war against the Nazis? That hasn't been the case in Korea or Vietnam. No, this was a different sort of war. "That's what I thought- someone got friendly with a grenade. But no, man, it was something else. The weapons- untouched. No blood, nothing- the men got torn apart by something and despite firing their weapons, it just ignored them."
Zed grins, a wicked thing. "See, it was the grove of Nightmares." he explains, "At least, that's what the locals called it- cursed ground. Everyone started seeing shit- and it was specific to each Soldier. Their Nightmare- that primal fear that lurched out of the primordial darkness." he shakes his head, "Poor bastards never stood a chance. They hadn't lived with nightmares." he explains. "See… I had night terrors- nightmares. Every. Single. Day. of my life, from a very young age. All through basic. Every night leading up to then. I got used to them. I'd sleep through the night, aware of my nightmares. So, my nightmares were there too- but for me, it was different. I knew my nightmare. I knew my fear."
*
Namor catches that grin and can't help but return it. There was no mirth in the conversation, but somehow, he felt like the other man was asking it of him, encouraging some participation in this mad tale. So he smiled, and nodded, and played along. Like some Viatnamese swath of land could legitimately show people their worst fears. "So your nightmare was… what? A grove of corpses? A bunch of dead meat? That doesn't sound so bad. Hell, I've been through shipwrecks full of bones picked clean by time." Swirling his drink, he asks the question that made it more interesting, "So what did the other see? The ones who hadn't watched terrors every night? Did you ever get teh chance to ask them?"
*
"No. The meat was the men who'd been there before- the Russians and the Vietcong who got torn up by their nightmares. One man was torn apart by birds. Another was torn apart by the primordial darkness itself. A third saw his dead mother rise from the dead and she spoke to him- told him all the things he never wanted to hear. Grief itself killed him." Zed offers, "Me. It was the same as it was every night. A dark void. Twisting anger. Teeth and razor sharp claws." He takes a slow inhale of his cigarette. "The place was cursed, truly. And everyone else died- but me. I knew what my nightmare wanted. It wanted me. I knew the teeth couldn't hurt me. I'd gone through the dream so many nights, I knew that I needed to dive down its throat. So I did, with knife in hand- the one thing I never had in my dream. I cut my way into its heart. I cut the heart free and I bit into it."
"I woke up then. Like I had every night before. Something was different though- around me, more chunks of corpses. Meat. Men dead. And there I stood- staring at the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my life. The very essence of Femininity. Tiamat- she was like a snake then, and burst into my chest. She ate my soul. And here I sit before, the man without a Soul- and a creature of the darkest depths of primordial chaos resting where my soul once was."
*
Namor swirls his glass, staring down at the watered down amber liquid at the bottom, suddenly wishing there was more of it there. He really needed to start choosing his drinking companions better. Was this man just another crazy person? Just another lunatic scrounging money for a drink? It was possible, but the prince had his doubts. Tiamat was not a name well known. Certainly, Namor wouldn't have been able to bring it to mind readily if he hadn't heard it from the lips of another. And then there was that feeling of something missing in the other man.
The silence stretched on for minutes while he tried to figure out how best to respond to such an origin story. This man could well cause some serious problems if upset, but then, Namor had no reason to upset him. With a sigh, he tips back the last of his glass. The ruler of Atlantis shares his own origin story. "My Father fucked a fish princess." Share and share alike.
*
"Its funny, Tea. They never believe it." Zed says to his silent companion. "Even Prince Namor finds it hard to believe." He chuckles quietly, "You think a guy with wings on his ankles, and who ruled a kingdom most people believed myth would have a more open mind." Zed shrugs- he doesn't seem particularly dangerous, at least not at the moment. "So, with my soul eaten, I found it somewhat more difficult to connect with my former comrades." he says, "They figured it was just a case of shell shock- the only guy to come back from a mission turned sour. Put me on medical for a little while, and then I was back in action for a mission or two. When the chance came to leave the Army, I did. Honorably discharged, and all that. I spent the next year or two just bumming around the states. Trying to figure it all out."
*
Namor debates another drink as he listens. He chafes at the suggestion that he doesn't believe, but it's the truth. This could still be some madman who spent too much time in the special collections section of the library. Still, he knew more than most about the atlantean than most surface-dwellers that hadn't met him in person. In the end, he waves for the check. He had a bar named after a goose guilded with some kind of precious metal to visit next anyway. "So that's it then? You've just been… wandering? T-Tiamat hasn't burdened you with some grave responsibility? I am told Gods tend to do that."
*
"Not really. She does have a thing about Justice, though. And lessons. She's an interesting individual, that's for sure. Lessons, she says, are the purpose of Monsters. And She, as the Mother of Monsters is very strict in teaching lessons." Zed begins, as he takes another long pull on his cigarette. "So, Lessons of Justice- in one of two flavors." he continues, "So, I can teach a lesson to any human being I choose- but it must be a lesson of Justice. Justice for those who have somehow escaped it- teaching them that one day, Justice will find them or, the lesson I choose not to teach, that sometimes there is No Justice. Ever. That sometimes, Justice just doesn't come. Those who are taught the lesson must give something up. A piece of their soul, which I take and devour as my soul was devoured. However, unlike myself, I don't eat the whole thing. Just a piece."
*
Namor frowns as he trades his check for a few dollars magicked from out if his jacket pocket, side-eying the other man rambling about some sort of… Justice School? At this point, it just sounded like so many ravings, though the bit at the end - that part about devouring souls - sounded ominous enough, and Namor tries to make some kind of light of the situation. "Y-you know with all the talk about lessons and justice, I'm surprised Cap' didn't warm right up to you! Those topics are right up his alley."
*
"Oh. Well, he caught me crippling a bunch of punks." Zed replies. "One of them ruined my shirt." he opens his jacket- a very clear cut there. Likely a knife. He's certainly not cut for it. "Murdering, raping, pieces of shit that they are." he just chuckles quietly. "They'll stay scared though. They won't forget what I did to them. Every time they take a step, they'll feel it." he says, still grinning. A truly wicked grin. A dark grin. The toothy grin of a monster born.
"That, and he's a Hero." How Zed says that- Hero… it seems to have extra meaning. "He's never going to really trust me. I'll always make him feel.. weird. All Heroes are like that when they meet a Monster." he looks over to Namor. "I don't think my version of Justice is the same he believes in."
*
Namor finally finds some common ground at that, breaking into a wide grin at the sight of that shirt. "WEll that certainly sounds right. They're lucky they didn't find me with that knife, else Cap would have have been on cleanup duty instead." Shaking his head, he laughs to himself and reaches for his hat, trying to ignore that disturbance of a smile. "Just so long as that Justice counts me somewhere between the heroes and the villians, I think we'll be alright. I don't like to be too far on either side."
He slides off the barstool with a kindly enough offer of his hand. A parting shake. "Thanks for sharing a drink with me. And the story besides er… Friend. Maybe in the future we will cross paths in a less dreary atmosphere…" A glance to the other's face and he somehow doubts the atmosphere will be any more happy though.
*
Zed smiles quietly over to Namor, "Sure thing, my friend." he offers quietly. Its no wonder people in the bar were looking at him with fear. He speaks as if this is truth- so either he's completely batshit insane, or he's telling the truth. "I'm sure we'll cross paths, Namor. Tea likes you. You keep people guessing, and you're so very loyal to your people at the same time. Ah.. Atlantis. I can see it, you know. Tea has walked me through the streets… although, above the water." He pulls a pen out of his pocket, and takes a napkin. He draws something- something no surface dwelling man should know. An ancient seal in the center of the city. Even the language- ancient and old, forgotten by all men, is perfect. He hands it over to Namor. "There. In case you don't think Tea and I are telling the truth."
*
Zed adds, "It says 'Behold the wonders of Gods and Men. Behold the glory of Atlantis."
*
Namor feels the smile drawin with the rest of his pallor at the sight of the crest. Very, very slowly he takes the napkin, narrowed eyes turning one more time upon his drinking companion. "Yes. Yes that is indeed what it says… Let me know if you'd like to visit in person some day. I'm sure we would all love to have such a… well-informed outsider in our midst." Visibly shaken at the confirmation, the Prince doffs his hat and turns, headed for the door. "Until then, enjoy your drinks and good luck with your justice… And your nightmares."
*
Zed gives a nod, and a smile. "Good evening, Prince Namor. Stay safe, and be well."
*
Namor slips out the door with intent to get well and truely drunk before he makes it past the goose themed bars.
*