The Carnival of Flesh

….it was an insult, Malekith decided after some thought. Not really in an odd way either, after all – the warriors had indeed been clones of himself. The chance to remake them into something even better was great excitement – the twinge of political this and that only served to amplify the anticipation, and he willed his many servo-legs to move faster.

He was eager to get his new project to a stage of completion. Even as he originally grew the warrior-clones and selected the appropriate slave-teachers, he was experimenting with the stuffs that he could now put into full execution. Funny how things worked out, as they always did, his clones now providing all the right materials for the current project. “All in good time…” his ancient teacher had repeated, his endless projects carelessly woven into and out of each other with no regard to, “…starts and finishes…”

The raw bio-material of what was left of his clones after the battle and the various games had already been delivered to his master-lab deep within the Black Ark, the Archon Prophet’s personal battleship. Malekith’s various slaves, servants, and other creations had gone to work on the first stages of his newest designs – distributing the flesh and muscle and sinew amongst the various necessary machines, supplying the incubation pods with the perfect amounts of, “…this and that…” Everything was in perfect working order when he arrived, freshly berated by the Kabal leadership.


He knew that the small amounts of embarrassment and shame were only remnants of his former self. The feelings turned easily to insult and excitement – the Lords of Pain could play their games, and they all had to know of the great gifts they handed to him while their words scolded. As his custom built chem-harness was replaced by his many techno-beasts scurrying to welcome and serve his every wish, he felt a surge of adrenaline and… something else... Death Spice? His clones had done their job on the battlefield, dying quite painfully, and now in victory provided the raw basics he needed for his next wave of personal destruction. Malekith wished he had planned such a feat, as the Death Spice started to kick in, he went to work personally on his latest design – moving diligently from one pod to the next.