Kehl big slaughter: Part Four

Kehl Senior, still occupying Kehl’s formidable frame, sat enthroned in the dim, echoing cave. The fury from moments before had subsided, replaced by a more contemplative, almost paternal air. He rested Kehl’s heavy, blue-skinned head on his right hand, the sharp claws glinting faintly.

“I’m sorry, Kehl, ” he said aloud, Kehl’s voice carrying a smooth, persuasive tone. “I got a little… carried away. But you must understand, you must think about it. You have unlimited power, boundless possibilities at your fingertips! Yet you shy away, you refuse to fully accept them.” He sighed, a sound like wind through a deep chasm. “When the time comes, and it will come, you will remember my words. You’ll understand.” With a subtle mental shift, he relinquished full control back to Kehl.

The sudden return of agency was jarring. Kehl felt the phantom echo of Kehl Senior’s lecture, the lingering taste of his power. A surge of defiance, mixed with a desperate need to prove something — perhaps to himself, perhaps to the demon in his head — coursed through him.

“If you want me to show you what I’m capable of, ” Kehl thought, his own mental voice surprisingly firm, “then I’m all for it!” He slammed a fist against his own impressive, muscular stomach, the impact a dull thud against the dense core. “Let’s show them who’s king here!” He surged to his feet, his massive frame radiating power. He flexed his enormous biceps, the muscles bunching like granite under his sleek blue skin. An arrogant smirk, so like the one in the artwork, touched his lips as he adjusted his glasses with a clawed finger.

Kehl Senior’s mental voice was a low, approving purr. “Oh yes, Kehl. That’s what you need. Embrace the power, the control! You are the king. You can do whatever you want. Show them all who’s boss!” Then, softer, almost a whisper in the recesses of Kehl’s mind, like a conspirator sharing a secret, “You understand, boy. You’re starting to. Tell me it will always be this way. You will be the strongest creature this world has ever seen, and you will rule the ocean… yes, we will rule together…”

The Beach: An Hour Later

The quiet solitude of the beach Kehl had recently walked was shattered. Armored trucks, their heavy tires churning sand, and several unmarked black SUVs rumbled into position, forming a tight perimeter. Doors hissed open, and heavily armed operatives, clad in tactical gear, fanned out, weapons at the ready.

Director Marcus Vortex emerged from one of the SUVs, his face a grim, unreadable mask. He surveyed the scene, his eyes cold. “Search everything here!” he commanded, his voice sharp and cutting through the sea breeze. “Find him. Dead or alive, I want him found.” He gestured towards the choppy grey water. “Get the divers ready. I want them in the water, now.”

Several groups of operatives moved to cordon off all beach entrances and exits, their efficiency born of long training. Near the water’s edge, a team of eight divers, looking more like futuristic gladiators in their reinforced wetsuits and full-face masks, made their final checks. They carried specialized pneumatic weapons designed to fire harpoons with wicked, flesh-tearing barbs, and heavy-gauge nets. They signaled their readiness and, one by one, slipped into the cold embrace of Puget Sound.

They descended into the murky green, their powerful underwater lights cutting cones through the gloom. It didn’t take long. One diver, pointing with a gloved hand, indicated a dark, shadowy opening in a submerged rock face — the entrance to Kehl’s cave.

Inside the cave, Kehl felt the subtle pressure shift, saw the distant, unnatural glow of lights approaching. “What are those bubbles? Damn it!” he hissed, pressing himself back against the cold, damp wall of his cave, hoping the shadows would conceal his massive form.

“No hiding, Kehl, ” Kehl Senior’s voice urged, a thrill of anticipation in his tone. “This is your chance. Show them what you can do.”

A desperate, cornered feeling mixed with a surge of adrenaline. Kehl’s hesitation was brief. He shot out of the cave like a torpedo, a blue-and-white behemoth emerging from the darkness. He faced the divers, his lips pulling back from his sharp teeth in a snarl. “Well, how am I?” he projected, more to himself and Kehl Senior than to the intruders. “Big, aren’t I? I’m afraid you can’t handle me.”

Then, with a speed that defied his bulk, he attacked.

He rocketed towards the nearest diver. There was no finesse, just raw, overwhelming power. Kehl thrust his clawed right hand forward with devastating force, punching straight through the diver’s reinforced suit and body as if it were paper. The man’s light went out, his form going limp.

Before the others could fully react to the shocking brutality, Kehl spun, his powerful tail lashing. He brought a massive arm around in a devastating arc, connecting with the second diver’s helmeted head. There was a sickening crunch, and the head was simply… gone, the body spinning away in a cloud of red.

He lunged for the third, jaws agape, and clamped down on the diver’s neck. Bone and cartilae crunched between his rows of razor-sharp teeth.

The fourth diver fired a harpoon. It glanced off Kehl’s thick, muscular side, stinging but not penetrating deeply. Enraged, Kehl grabbed the man, his immense strength terrifying. He tore the diver limb from limb in a frenzy, a primal roar ripping from his throat. He found himself with a severed arm in his claws and, to his own distant horror, bit into it, the taste of blood and flesh shockingly… not entirely repulsive.

The remaining four divers, witnessing the carnage, their professional composure shattered by the sheer, savage ferocity of the attack, scrambled for the surface, abandoning their mission and their fallen comrades in a desperate bid for survival.

Kehl stood amidst the carnage, blood and bubbles swirling around him. He looked at the arm in his hand, then at his claws, dripping with gore. The haze of battle-fury began to clear, replaced by a sickening wave of nausea and self-loathing. “What… what am I doing?!” he gasped, his voice hoarse. He dropped the arm as if it were burning. “No! I don’t want to be… I’m not a monster!”

“Oh, just don’t start with that again, ” Kehl Senior’s voice sighed in his head, a hint of exasperation but also a note of dark satisfaction. “Yes. You are. And it’s magnificent.” Before Kehl could spiral further into his horror, Kehl Senior seized control once more. With a powerful flick of Kehl’s tail, he turned and swam away, deeper into the vast, uncaring ocean, leaving the bloodied water behind.

Vortex Institute Laboratory: Later That Evening

The atmosphere in the pathology lab was grim. Four body bags lay on stainless steel tables. A stern-faced pathologist was briefing Director Marcus Vortex.

“Almost all of them died instantly, Director, ” the pathologist said, his voice carefully neutral. He unzipped the first bag. “Look here. The entire cervical section… part of the neck is completely missing. Torn away.”

Marcus leaned closer, his face pale but controlled. He saw the ragged flesh, the severed spine. And something else. “Oh my God…” he breathed. “Those marks… shark teeth!”

“Yes, Director, ” the pathologist confirmed. “Large ones, judging by the serrations and the bite radius. Its mouth is so large it could likely swallow a human head, perhaps even engulf a smaller person whole if it wished.”

He moved to the second body bag. “Here, we’re missing the left arm. Looks like it was torn off completely at the shoulder socket. Extreme force.”

The third bag revealed a different kind of horror. “Interesting, ” the pathologist mused, pointing with a gloved finger. “He stabbed his clawed hand right through the operative’s torso, puncturing multiple organs. The entry and exit wounds are… substantial.”

He approached the fourth bag with a sigh. “There’s not much to collect here, Director. The body is… fragmented. Smashed to pieces. We couldn’t really put it back together in any meaningful way.”

The Head of Security entered the lab, his face ashen. “Mr. Director?”

Marcus Vortex turned slowly, his eyes like chips of ice. “Well? Speak.”

“The target is gone, sir. Vanished into the Sound. No trace.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened until the muscles stood out in sharp relief. “Then you will do your damn job and find a trace.”

“Yes, sir!” The Head of Security retreated quickly.

Marcus Vortex walked stiffly, with empty eyes, to the private bathroom adjoining his office. He leaned heavily on the sink, staring at his own reflection — a tired, haunted man. That’s not my son, he whispered, his voice cracking. He splashed cold water on his face. I don’t believe it! Kehl… stop! Please, I don’t want to kill you… Come back! Tears welled, hot and unexpected. You will always be my son! Just… be human again. Not… not this monster. He wiped his face, straightened his tie, and composed his features into a mask of cold resolve once more. But the tears had fallen.