[Taskmistress’s POV]
Guard duty's a real bitch sotis, even with the premium rates I'm pulling for this particular job. The restaurant's private dining room screams luxury with its red velvet curtains and stupid gold-plated chandeliers, but all that fancy atmosphere can't make up for the company I'm stuck watching.
I stand in the corner, arms crossed, trying to look imposing while actually fighting off boredom as I observe two of the most pathetic villain leaders ever to plague humanity. Red Skull and MODOK, sharing a al like they're old friends instead of galomaniacs plotting world domination.
I can’t help but wonder if Shane would be excited to see either of these losers.
Red Skull slices into her bloody steak with surgical precision. Her crimson face gleams under the restaurant lighting as she daintily dabs the corner of her mouth with her napkin after each bite. All class, this one. As if table manners sohow make up for genocide.
Across from her sits MODOK, that grotesque floating head with her ridiculous tiny arms extending from her massive cranium. Those weird baby appendages struggle to manipulate the silverware as she attempts to mimic Red Skull's refined dining etiquette. What a fucking freak. I've seen so shit in my rcenary career, but watching MODOK try to eat a dium-rare porterhouse will haunt my nightmares.
"To think," Red Skull finally says, setting down her knife with practiced elegance, "if we had simply combined the efforts of HYDRA and AIM sooner, who knows how much we could have achieved together."
MODOK's massive face contorts into what I assu is supposed to be a smile. Those tiny arms raise her wine glass in a toast, the movent almost comical if it weren't so disturbing.
"Here's to making the Avengers fall apart," she says, her voice a chanical wheeze through that oversized mouth, "and specifically, here's to Iron Woman for making it so easy."
They both erupt into laughter before clinking glasses and taking synchronized sips of their overpriced cabernet.
I keep my expression neutral, but internally I'm rolling my eyes so hard they might detach. These two are celebrating like they've already won, when all they've managed to do so far is ruin Stark’s reputation and get him kicked out of her little club.
Red Skull takes another delicate sip of her wine.
"Still," she says thoughtfully, "to think we'd use sothing as mundane as social dia and public stigma to bring down the mighty Avengers. It's almost disappointing how effective it's been."
MODOK's enormous head bobs in agreent.
"When we discovered those compromising photos of Iron Woman," MODOK replies, her chanical voice sohow smug, "it was actually an intern who suggested leveraging them through social platforms. Quite brilliant, really."
"And who," Red Skull asks, cutting another perfect slice of steak, "ca up with the idea to start taking hostages and forcing n to co forward as assault victims?"
"The sa intern, actually. Really a creative thinker."
Red Skull's eyebrows arch with genuine surprise. "Perhaps we should consider elevating them within our ranks."
"I tried," MODOK responds with what almost sounds like disappointnt. "But they were surprisingly humble about the whole ordeal. Refused any recognition."
Red Skull looks montarily confused before giving a slow nod.
"How goes the front on discrediting Rogers?" Skull asks, changing the subject.
MODOK's tiny fingers tap together. "We have files showing her mother in the thirties was docunted attending communist gatherings, but little else concrete. We're currently working to fabricate evidence suggesting she's a Russian asset." She pauses, those beady eyes gleaming. "Though as we saw with Stark, it's much easier to convince the public with a mixture of truth and lies rather than pure fabrication."
"Who else do we have in the pipeline?" Red Skull inquires, leaning forward slightly.
"Ant-Woman," MODOK replies without hesitation. "We can get her canceled whenever we want. She abuses her husband..." she pauses for dramatic effect, "actively."
"Dr. Strange has been a tough one to crack," MODOK continues. "We've been trying to develop a narrative around occult trafficking, but..."
"That story sounds rather weak," Red Skull interjects.
MODOK's tiny arms gesture in acknowledgnt. "Perhaps. But we've had success elsewhere. Thor is currently off-realm fighting frost giants after we fabricated that threat to Asgard. Plus they sent Hulk off world all on their own. Without their financier and now their strongest warriors, the Avengers will crumble in a matter of ti."
"And the best part," Red Skull adds, leaning forward with gleaming eyes, "is that we don't have to lift a finger. We simply watch them fail."
"And then save Earth in their place," MODOK finishes with a chanical chuckle. "With our newly united forces."
"Exactly. We don't even need to fabricate an attack."
Red Skull cuts another perfect slice of steak, her movents precise and controlled. "Still, it's a sha Dr. Doom wouldn't join us for this operation. Her resources would have been invaluable."
"Almost as much of a sha as Norma going off and getting herself killed," MODOK replies, attempting to spear a potato with her tiny fork. "God only knows how that happened."
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. These idiots have no idea I was there when Shane crushed Osborn's skull between his demonic hands. The mory of Norma's brain matter leaking through his fingers is still vivid in my mind, not sothing you forget easily, even in my line of work.
"A significant loss," Red Skull agrees solemnly. "Osborn was a true visionary."
Red Skull and Modok:
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