Chapter Text
“Y’called Captain?”
“It’s unfortunate but Miss Shuri has left us no choice. We must free her from that creature’s influence.”
“...aye, Captain.”
“May she find some comfort that her final resting place will be in the sea.”
—
As the fog rolls through on this somber night, Professor Shuri Udaku tip-toes her way to the bow of the fishing vessel. Heart pounding loudly, she peered over the edge of the railing to stare into the endless dark of the ocean. The flickering light of the moon on the water made it seem like the whole cosmos was dancing upon the calm waves. A trick of the light perhaps but Shuri knew that there was something to it—something enigmatic.
“Namor…” She murmurs quietly, wrapping her arms around her waist, “Where are you?”
El niño sin amor.
Her memory flickers to the first time she heard that wretched name, given to the legendary creature that haunted these waters. It was on a night like this one—somber and cold. The crew was already half drunk, sipping on canisters of bitter alcohol to keep chill away from their toes and fingers. Shuri sat further away, maintaining a cordial distance to the group with her own cup of warm tea. No alcohol for her. She has seen the dark glint in some of these men’s eyes—she would keep her wits about her.
The fishermen were already not happy about having a woman on board but she was wealthy enough to shut them up. Even with their misogyny, men cannot resist their endless greed for wealth. She remembers the hunger in the crew gaze as she pulled out large stacks of bills. So little is known about the marine life in the area that she was willing to pay exorbitant prices to have a spot upon one of the few vessels that dared to sail these waters. This patch of sea is her only option left. She was running out of time.
Shuri is the youngest distinguished professor at Oxford—an achievement that came from her groundbreaking research exploring the greatest mystery of their time: the ocean. The new species of coelacanth she discovered off the coast of Sri Lanka led to a breakthrough in cancer research due to their unusually high healing factor. As a reward, her face was plastered upon many prestigious scientific magazines and she was lauded as one of the greatest minds of their time. A short-lived fame however. People’s memories are short and that discovery was seven years ago. Nothing she has discovered recently has ever matched up to it and there was pressure in her department to publish something substantial or risk having their funding cut.
So, she struck a deal with a fairly dubious captain and his crew. She would be left alone to conduct her scientific inquiries and in return, she agreed to not to interfere with any of the fishermen’s work.
The arrangement worked well enough. There were a few grumblings on board about all the space her scientific equipment would be taking up on the deck but the captain kept the crew’s grips in check with the promise of a cut of her money. Most of her days were boring and uneventful. Shuri would spend her mornings with her notebook in hand, taking notes on all the readings her equipment took over the night. She would then write up her findings in the afternoon underneath a baking sun before spending her evenings in her own private cabin, eating a lukewarm meal that barely kept her warm during the cold, wet nights.
Finally, tired of only having the four walls of her cabin to keep her company, she agreed to join the crew on deck for dinner. Though regret simmers in her gut as she cringes at all the lewd jokes and remarks thrown around between the crew members. As the alcohol flowed, so did these men’s tongues. Luckily, most of them just ignored her. Most of them.
“Did the locals -hic- tell ya about it missus?” One of the men, an American that smells like a wet dog, stumbles towards her, “There’s a beast that haunts these waters. A beast with -hic- dagger teeth and eyes of night that consumes the souls of black hearted men! Nobody dares try to sail over here because of the bastard.”
Shuri flinches as the American looms over her, the stench of alcohol filling her nostrils, “Lucky for you, we are the only dumbfucks brave enough to get on this boat. We aren’t afraid of some el-neen-o-s’more!”
“¡Orale, guey!” scolds another man, a local sailor with missing teeth, “How many times have I told you? It’s el niño sin amor.”
The child without love. A chill runs up Shuri’s spine.
“That’s what I fucking said! El Neeno–Simor–sin amur–fucking damn—Namor. Yeah, Namor—that's what the captain said it’s name was. Better be careful, missus!”
The local sailor shakes his head, “Keep my beautiful language out of your mouth, guerito.”
“Fuck off, I’ll keep my cock in your ma’s mouth if I want—”
The man wasn’t able to finish his sentence before the local sailor smashed his fist into the side of his jaw. With a loud crack, the man topples over onto his back and the rest of the crew swarm around him including the captain. Shuri is frozen in place, shocked at the violence that had just taken place.
“He’s alive, cap. Nothing feels broken.”
“Carry him to his bunk and let him sleep it off,” grumbles the captain, “Rest of you? Party’s over.”
Shuri decides not to join the crew for dinner again after that.
—
A few days into the trip, a rare turtle got caught in the fishermen’s nets. Upon seeing the wounded creature crying out helplessly, Shuri leapt into action, pushing sailors aside and pulling out her pocket knife to cut the bindings. The captain grips her wrist and wrenches it away from the net, letting the knife drop to the ground, “What are you doing miss? I thought we had an agreement that you wouldn’t mess with our business.”
“That’s a critically endangered turtle!” Shuri cries out, “There’s only dozens of them left! You must let it go!”
“We don’t let anything we catch go.”
“But—”
“It’s bad luck. Leaves a trail for Namor to come to find us. That creature doesn’t like to share.”
She grits her teeth—stupid superstitions, “I’ll… I’ll pay you to let it go. Double the amount I already gave you. Please. It’s just one turtle.”
The captain clucks his tongue. Greed overcomes his fear.
“Fine,” he lets her wrist go and she reaches for her knife, “Money in my account the moment we hit shore.” The captain addresses the crew, “The rest of you—Early lunch break! Let’s leave the princess to her nature work, shall we?” The men laugh all around her but Shuri ignores them, focusing at the task at hand.
With a few careful slices, the turtle easily slips out of the net. It slides onto the deck with a wet flop, seemingly groaning at the bleeding rope burns around its fins.
“Oh you poor thing,” Shuri whispers, scratching its head in an attempt to comfort it, “I’m sorry that you got caught up in that net. Let’s make sure you don’t get an infection when I send you back, ok?”
The turtle is strangely calm as Shuri reaches for the medical disinfectant in her research bag.
“This will sting a little,” She explains gently, “But you will feel better afterwards.” Though the turtle squirms with each brush of disinfectant on its wounds, it accepts her tending with an acceptance far calmer than expected. Strange, she thinks, perhaps this creature has encountered friendly people before.
With one last dab of the ointment, Shuri gives it an affection scratch on the head before letting it waddle towards the edge of the boat. She smiles as it turns its head to look at her one last time—it’s black eyes glimmering like the night sky. A shiver runs up her spine.
Shuri thinks nothing of it as the turtle tumbles off the side and into the ocean down below.
—
Over the next few days, strange things begin to occur on the ship. Specifically to her.
A large black pearl appears in her bag—the luster of which is similar to the gaze of the turtle she saved. She thinks it’s one of the crew toying with her so she says nothing and hides it away.
She accidently drops one of her valuable scientific instruments into the ocean—it appears on the boat deck the next day without a scratch. Even all the data it captured has been untouched. No one on the crew said they retrieved it.
Shuri casually mentioned out loud that she was craving fresh tuna—a batch of said fish was caught the next day. As if the large creatures purposefully entrapped themselves in the trawling nets. The pit of her stomach churns even as the crew celebrates their good luck. Coincidence? It must be. It has to be.
“Perhaps Namor has gotten soft on us, eh?” calls out one sailor as he hulls one of the giant creatures into the freezing containment hull, “To give us so much good fortune?”
The captain snorts, “Don’t be a fool! That creature would drown any of you good-or-nothings in a heartbeat.”
“Maybe it’s thanking us for bringing such a pretty lady out onto sea!” quips another, “Unless it’s some sort of dolphin fucker—”
“Oi! Watch your fucking mouth in front of the lady!”
“Sorry Cap!”
Shuri rolls her eyes at the remarks, doing her best to ignore them as much as she can as she makes her way back to her cabin. The crew wouldn’t dare touch her but it doesn’t stop them from trying to rile her up while she’s on deck.
“Probably why it drowns so many of us—tired of seeing all your ugly faces.”
“If the creature gave us this much fish with just a pretty face, imagine the amount of fish we could get if she just flashed her perky—”
Shuri slams the door to her cabin shut and sighs. That creature stews in the back of her mind. It’s not real—a figment of her imagination tickled by the gruesome legends told to her by the sailors to unnerve her.
Yet at night when she dozes off to the gentle rocking of the sea, she sees him in her dreams. A strange blur of a figure staring at her from afar. Not a creature but something that is a mockery of a man. Where one would expect it to have scales or blubber, she sees soft sun-kissed human flesh made to touch and caress. It has sweet lips, inviting her to taste but when it smiles, it reveals a mouth full of shark-like teeth ready to rip and tear. Its eyes were deep, dark mysterious whirlpools of ink that stains her soul—drowning her under the weight of inexplicable wisdom.
Shuri would wake from these dreams—gasping, sweating and aroused. She considered touching herself to get it over with. However the walls are paper thin. She did not want to risk embarrassing herself if some sailor overheard her—they already behaved excessively lecherously towards her as it is. Yet as each night passes, she grows more and more restless. The creature—no, man—begins to sharpen in her dreams. Flesh envelopes thick, powerful muscles. Dark hair curls over a devastatingly handsome face—striking both fear and lust within her gut. A curious pair of wings decorate his ankles—Too small for the flight, she thinks yet this man would fly. Despite all logic and reason—he would fly.
Late one night, Shuri lays awake—her eyes refusing to close in fear of seeing that man again. He’s coming closer to her. Too close for comfort and yet not close enough. Her fingers tremble. She could almost touch him, almost feel his breath brush against her skin, almost feel the sharpness of his teeth on her neck—biting down on her warm, living flesh—
She shoots up from her bed. Enough.
The sea is driving her mad.
She must come back to reality.
A reality where he cannot reach her. Cannot taste her. Cannot devour her—
She begins to hyperventilate—Air. She needs fresh air now. Grabbing her outerwear off the floor, Shuri quickly dresses before bursting out onto the deck—welcoming the salt air into her lungs.
She makes her way to the portside of the boat before sitting on the edge of it while holding onto the railing to avoid slipping into the sea. In and out, Shuri slowly breathes—staring into the black depths of the ocean. Something about the soothing lull of the waves enthralls her. Perhaps if she stares long enough anxieties will be drowned out. A sudden splash of water underneath her feet startles her. A small, scaley head pops out of the sea—her turtle friend.
“Hey,” She relaxes at the sight of the turtle lazily swimming by the bottom of her feet, “What are you still doing here? You are just going to get caught in the nets again and I don’t think I can afford to bribe the captain twice. Shoo! Shoo!”
The turtle blinks at her. Once. Twice. Then dives down into the depths below. Shuri sighs with a smile, closing her eyes—silly little creature. She hears another loud splash and she shakes her head, “My friend, you need to leave before—”
It was not the turtle.
Between her feet, just barely peeping out of the water, a set of curious black eyes on a devastatingly handsome human face stares up at her. She blinks. A lot. But her impossible vision remains. The vision of the creature—of Namor staring at her—myth made monster made dream made man made desire—
Shuri holds her breath—She’s still in her cabin, in her bunker and this is all just a dream, a nightmare, a fantasy—
He slips out of the water easily—defying gravity with those impractical wings she dreamed of. Wrong. Everything about him was just wrong and yet her mind seemingly stretches to accommodate the infeasibility of the creature before her—twisting rational variables to come to the irrational conclusion of how right his existence is. It is as if the universe realigned the stars and planets to make him right and real.
“N-no! Y-you aren’t real.”
Even her tongue falls victim to the delusion, tasting lies instead of what should be truthful words.
He merely cocks head to the side as he flies—floats? flutters?—closer to her, flooding her vision with his otherworldly flesh. She freezes even as the warmth of his breath brushes upon her cheeks—slipping out between dagger-like teeth. Figment of her imagination.
She closes her eyes—wills herself to wake up. To feel the comforts of her plump pillows. To feel the warmth of her soft sheets. To feel wet flesh—hands?—brush against her throat. Rough pads trace the jugular on her neck as panicked blood rushes through to her racing heart. This is the end. This creature will drag her into the depths of the ocean and she will choke on saltwater until the abyss swallows her whole. Never to see her friends again. Never to visit her family’s graves. Never to—
There was a sudden click! before the chill of his hands suddenly vanished. Her eyes open to the infinite darkness of the sea: Namor has disappeared. Or perhaps he was never there at all. She quickly gets to her feet, stepping away from the sea. Sea-sick. Her mind is just sea-sick. Conjuring up illusions of comfort from being away from home. She breathes long, deep breaths as reality realigns itself back to within the confinements of fact and logic that she knows too well.
As her nerves finally settle, Shuri lets out a sigh of relief—followed by a sharp gasp as her hands clutch at her throat. There was a weight around her neck—A string of glimmering pearls and beads of unknown origin. He gave her a necklace…?
She grips it tightly. It was real. Proof that the mythical creature—the man of her dreams—was no myth at all.