Chapter 18: Shark Horse and the Fourth Reich of the DolphiNazis!
By Jeffrey Kieviet
“But why the Waffle-SS?” Shark Horse’s commanding voice came in clear through my helmet’s speaker, but I still turned to look at him. I don’t know who designed these spacesuits, but they are not flattering for a quadrupedal fish.
Or lupine aquatic mammals for that matter. But I hadn’t bothered to look in a mirror.
“Because waffles are freakin’ delicious. Don’t be a douche, Sharko!” My voice echoed off the glass of the giant fish-bowl that was protecting my head, transmitting through the microphone and into the helmets of the rest of our crew. I was unnervingly aware of the sound of my breathing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no chicken-shit scaredy-cat like that pussy, Shark Horse, but blasting off in a rocket ship wasn’t doing anything to settle my stomach after those spicy Mexican Mobsters I ate last night.
“I thought they ate fish?”
“Ew, gross. Fish are disgusting. They taste so… fishy. Waffles are awesome. Chicken & waffles! Hey, instead of going to space can we go to Roscoe’s?” Roscoe’s House of Chicken & Waffles was exactly what my stomach wanted. Maybe a greasy fry cook too.
“Everybody strapped in?” The Captain asked in gruff bark. Apparently, before the accident, the Captain had been some big Hollywood movie star. The guy had once been awarded “Sexiest Man Alive” or some shit by some outdated magazine (seriously, who reads magazines anymore? Who reads anything anymore. Reading is dead, long live television!). Now his face was a mangled smear of melted flesh, an eyepatch was set deep into a pothole that once held his charming sight-bubble, sporadic patches of silver hair sprouted from odd angles on his “good” side. His good side was almost recognizable as human, but whatever beauty his face had once held was lost in the deepest depths of hell. He was unsettling to look at, and that’s coming from a man (killer whale [wolf]) that’s seen some fucked up shit in his day.
“We’re ready, Captain Clooney.” Shark Horse announced as he tightened the straps on his harness. “Start the countdown.”
After I’d met the Angel of Death, Doctor Joseph Mengele, in Argentina, I began my surreal ascent into the being known as Sea Wolf. I was always a violent man, I was good at it, but more than that, I enjoyed it. And Mengele knew how exploit that talent. I became his right hand. Over the next several years, we experimented with my natural talent, my ability to transfer myself and control other living creatures. It was incredible. I thought I was a vessel of horror before, but those years were the most terrible and savage since World War II (Part 1). Savage for our victims, not for us, of course.
Mengele was better than me, I can admit that now. He also could control animals, all animals, with total efficiency. It was always difficult for me to control smarter creatures, but I guess compared to his genius, nothing else could be considered intelligent. His bloodlust was also far more unquenchable than my own. I’d spent my days hunting human prey, laying waste to the odd band of stupid deer or setting squirrels against each other in viscous battle, but he had no regard for the sanctity of life. It was madness.
The years flew by in a blur, and eventually he became a father figure to me. I’d never known my real father, my step-dad was a criminal and beat the hell out of me for one wrong word… until I cut the breaks of his car. Unfortunately, my mother had driven him to work that day because he’d been hitting the bottle since he’d woken up. She was trying to protect him. But she deserved the twisted flaming wreckage that became her funeral pyre. She tried to protect him but never said one word against him when he made my shins bleed with his bamboo cane. Family. Joseph was my family. And for a few years, I was happy.
But then the experiments changed. He started to test on me, and when I proved too weak, he used himself as the guinea pig.
There were six of us on the spaceship. Myself, Shark Horse, the Captain, an undead Doctor, and two legitimate astronauts, a husband and wife team who were none too pleased with having to train a group of monsters for extraterrestrial travel. The Doctor was a vampire, although he’d been walking in the sun with the rest of us so it didn’t make much sense to me. “Hey Doc, aren’t you supposed to burn in the sun or something? Or are you like Blade? Did you ever see that flick? Crazy cool, easily one of the best comic book movies out there. ‘Some mother fuckers always trying to ice skate up hill.'” He turned over his shoulder and smiled at me, his fangs reflected in the bulbous helmet.
“Once upon a time, young man,” he said with an ancient, condescending tone. “The sun will kill me, surely, but I believe Shark Horse can protect me. He must protect us all.” I could tell, me and the Doctor were not going to get along. “The sun emits a deadly Field of Necrotosis, terribly harmful to vampires, and potentially draining to all chimeric creations. It could take away your power, young whale-wolf.”
“Ha, bullshit!” I snorted. “I’ve been out in the sun tons of times and I’m still the black & white, four-legged freak you see before you.”
“The earth’s atmosphere has changed over the last few millennia. But out in space, without the barrier of the planet’s protection, we will only have Shark Horse. He must use his new abilities, his own harnessing of the Field of Necrotosis, to shield us from death and decay.” The Doctor sighed peacefully, then turned with a look of pure admiration towards Shark Horse.
“Are you kidding me? The only thing we have to protect us is this little dickweed’s newly developed magic tricks? You don’t even know if this is something you can do! I think I want off the ship.” We were now relying on our oxygen tanks to provide us with air and it was beginning to feel like mine was running out. I did not want to go to space.
“Countdown commencing.” The Captain’s voice sounded far away; my ears were beginning to ring. “We’re past the point of no return, boys. Time to nut up or shut up.”
A few weeks ago, there had been a horrible explosion in Las Angeles. A hamster was up to no good and decided to bomb some fancy Hollywood party. Famous Hollywood actor George Clooney, the most infamous of Batmans (unless you count all the rest of ’em), had managed to talk down a renegade god-like raccoon from killing Ben Afleck. This is all true, I couldn’t make this stuff up, it was all over the news. The reports were a little vague, it’s hard to gather information from a crater in the ground full of nuclear radiation, but the gist was: all hell was about to break loose. But this man, this great & powerful actor, managed to bring peace to a hateful heart. This is where I began to pay attention, because my heart hasn’t known peace in a long, long time.
Instead of moving forward, bringing the world into a new age of understanding and cohabitation, that squeaky little bastard John Hammster blew the place up, killing everyone instantly. Well, almost everyone. Rumor had it that the raccoon was building an army, desperate to take revenge on the damned furball for daring to oppose such a mighty rodent. I say put ’em in a boxing ring and let the furry little fuckers duke it out. Can you imagine such an adorable sight? A mighty hamster and all-powerful raccoon trying to bitch-slap each other. Both animals are not known for their direct involvement with humanity (aside from the death they deal like ambitious casino card sharks), so less is known about what the Hamm & Coon were up to these days, but rumors spread like wildfire.
The only other survivor was our monstrous Captain. He’d have you believe that God, himself, descended from the heavens and lifted the melted remains of the once-great star’s body from the ashen earth and resurrected him for all the good he had done humanity, like Ocean’s Eleven and Three Kings. But on the voyage to space, the Captain told us the truth wasn’t nearly as poetic. Maybe ironically just.
Clooney had been known as a bit of a womanizer, the type of man who would bounce from bedroom to bedroom, kitchen floor to bathroom door, of many gorgeous gals. One of these bodacious babes happened to be the last remaining descendant (another great Clooney flick: The Descendants) of an ancient voodoo cult. The Captain had broken her heart. Not on purpose, of course, but with a jaw line like Clooney’s, you don’t stick around long. Upon hearing of the catastrophe that befell Hollywood, this Voodoo Queen used a resurrection curse (for voodoo only works upon the dead, not a very useful skill when dealing with the living) to bring her dream man back to life.
Now he was also undead, but not undead like the Doctor. It is believed that now Clooney could never die; he must live forever as the ugly beast of twisted flesh. So he’d dedicated his life to NASA, knowing space was the only place that would accept him now. Plus, after all that space training he’d undergone for Gravity, he was clearly the best choice to pilot our mission.
In space, no one can hear you scream. And all I will want to do was scream. I will look out at the nothingness and inside I will weep. It is not something that that will be easy to handle. Give me a bucket of blood and severed limbs and I’ll lick my lips, but that great emptiness will chill me to my very core. We would be traveling at nearly a thousand miles an hour, hurtling towards to moon, the supposed base of operations for the Waffle-SS. The Nazi grapevine that provided all the horrific information of the surreal world I’d inhabited ever since that fateful day I’d met Mengele was full of crazy stories. This one happened to be true.
Mengele, Hitler, & Walt Disney were planning the rise of the Fourth Reich. With Mengele’s penchant for chimeric experimentation and Disney’s love for anthropomorphic animals, they’d created a new race of DolphiNazis. I had been jealous when I learned I’d been replaced by Shark Horse as Mengele’s favorite, but to learn he had created an entire army without me I was filled with rage. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to find my father to be with him, or to kill him, but either way, we were headed for war. The most secret and dedicated part of the DolphiNazis’s army was the Waffle-SS, but aside from the name, we knew very little about the tasty sounding soldiers. We didn’t know what the Waffle-SS consisted of, or whether or not they were even dolphins or some far more horrific creation. But that is what we needed to find out. Thankfully, when I look out the porthole and almost directly into the sun, I will curse a silent prayer under my breath for Shark Horse’s ability to keep the sun’s Necrotosis energy at bay with his new found powers. I am still Sea Wolf, and the Doctor won’t burst into a pile of ashes. At least, he won’t by the time we reach the moon.
The spaceship will rocket through the darkness, the moon growing like a glowing eyeball staring deep into my soul. But I’ve gotten ahead of myself.
“No, let me off this goddamn thing!” I was thrashing but the Doctor had expected a bit of a fight. The inside of the rocket ship had been lined with Orchalcum, the strongest material in existence. There was no way I was breaking my bonds.
“Five, four, three…” The Captain was counting down to blastoff and I wasn’t having it. My paw lashed out and shattered the helmet of the husband of our astronautic duo. His wife cried out in fear and pain as she struggled to find and attach a replacement helmet before the G-force of blast off popped her husband’s head like a smashing pumpkin.
“Why did you deputize this monster?” The Doctor was asking Shark Horse, without much concern in his for the human life about to be lost. More just curiosity.
“If you haven’t noticed, Dr. MacAllister, I don’t really think things through.” Shark Horse kicked out his back legs as quickly as possible and a fresh, clean, intact space helmet fell from the ceiling and landed directly on the astronaut’s suit, falling at just the right angle that it twisted and sealed just as the wife had removed the one I broke. “I’m just kind of lucky, I guess.” Shark Horse grinned his toothy grin. “It’s almost as if I put myself in difficult situations just so future me can pull me out of the frying pan.”
As I continued to panic, the thought occurred to me that after the frying pan, that meant we were heading into the fire.
Mengele had lost a lot of his power in his last & final experiment. He had tried to harness our ability to control the minds of other creatures, turn it into a machine that could be used by the führer, if he were ever revived. He had drained himself to the point of death, and he’d asked me to take him to the beach so he could watch the sunset on the ocean one last time. For all the chaos and destruction the man had created, he truly appreciated beauty.
I was, of course, Sea Wolf by this point. He’d tried the experiment on me first. Thankfully, I’d been too strong to be killed, but he had removed my ability to control other creatures. I was stuck in my monstrous chimera body, which was fine with me; I was the ultimate killing machine.
So I dragged him to the sand and sat with him as he breathed his last breaths. Or what I thought were his last. I let his body float out to sea, only to discover later that he’d managed to make a few final jumps, as well as create Shark Horse, before finally being isolated in the body of a hideous sewer rat. His final battle with Shark Horse had drained him of whatever power he’d had left. Like father like son. Now we were both locked in our monsters.
After years of freelance work, I got a job with the US government. Out of all the violent, authoritarian, blood-hungry freaks I’d worked for in my time, America was definitely the most viscous. I eliminated their enemies with glee, taking down entire rebel armies without the public even having the faintest idea. And then they sent me after that Bin Laden asshole.
Don’t get me wrong, it was an absolute pleasure to eat that mother fucker. But, as a joke, I’d called myself Seal Team 6 (because of being half-orca. I thought it was funny. Orca… Seal. The 6 was because there were 5 previous Seal Teams, but those were actual Navy Seals). Then public information began to be released. That Snowy dude who’s stuck in Russia leaked a bunch of classified documents, and the government wasn’t too keen about people finding out about me.
So they powered up one of Mengele’s old American laboratories (the US kicked that guy a couple deutsche marks for some of his research. Hell, even the Doc, an ancient vampire, funded a few of father’s experiments), locked me away, threw in a couple other freaks like some really unpopular zoo, and forgot about us. Until Shark Horse came into the public eye. That’s when I escaped and… well, you can read about that in the old newspaper clippings.
Once we manage to land on the moon, everything will be quiet. Aside from my spaz attack during take-off, and the ensuing re-helmeting, the trip will have gone smoothly. Scans will be unable to find any buildings or life forms on the moon, but all of our intelligence lead us here. It won’t be a wild goose chase.
We will step of the ship, the Captain leading us one bouncy step at a time. The husband and wife will have stayed on the ship, partly to double check the scans and re-calibrate, and partly because I think they want as much distance from me as possible. Fine with me. Humans, even astronauts, cannot amount to Sea Wolf. They would just get in the way.
Shark Horse will begin to bound ahead, impatient to find the remaining Nazi forces and eliminate them, although how he intends to bite off heads while in a space suit is a mystery to me. I’m just along for the ride, and the ride sucked big ol’ floppy donkey dick. I don’t care about the Nazis, the DolphiNazis, or the Waffle-SS. I just want to find my father.
“Ah, Shark Horse, wait!” the Doctor calls after him. “Stay close. We don’t know how far your power extends, Sea Wolf and I must stay close to you.”
Fat chance of that, I will think to myself. And then I feel a tremendous explosion. I don’t hear it, that’s the weird part, there’s just this rumble, and light. I turn, and see the rocket ship we’d come in shatter in an imploding fireball, the vacuum of space quickly extinguishing the flames. The husband and wife team vaporize. I never even learn their names. Eh, to hell with it, every space flight needs a couple redshirts.
Then I look up. Flying… floating… swimming through space, a giant army of cyber-punk Dolphins, all with the red armband and swastika on their flipper. The DolphiNazis. And they will have frickin’ laser beams attached to their heads! They begin to rain down a hail of fire and brimstone upon us; where beams strike the surface of the moon, the rock melts into what looks like blue cheese. That old belief of stupid people & gullible children… maybe they were right. And among the thousands of electronic, space age Dolphins, a space ship that looks just like a waffle iron. My father is on board that ship.
“Thank you, Shark Horse!” the wife was crying with joy that her husband was going to live.
“Two…” the Captain’s word echoed in our helmets.
“No problem, Julie.” Shark Horse said to the wife. “Dave, you alright?” Shark Horse was trying to comfort the humans before we blew off into the emptiness of space to fight an army of unknown super soldiers in an environment that might kill his Doctor and strip the power from me, his strongest & most powerful ally. What an idiot.
“I have a bad feeling about this.” Was all I could mumble as I felt the rumble of the engines below us.
“One… Blastoff.” The Captain grinned and in his remaining eye I could see the excited charm that once made this man beautiful. For just a second, he was alive again.
After this was all over, not all of us would be so lucky.
To Be Continued…
Don’t miss the next chapter in the exciting Shark Horse series, same Shark Time, same Shark Channel!
Next Time – Chapter 19: Shark Horse Kills Again… In Space!
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