CHAPTER 3
"What is this," Pinhead growled, not long after a projectile of hooks and chains he had hurled at the Kelpien drone proved to do no harm. The chains merely clanked against the metal on the drone's chest and simply fell to the floor. As Pinhead cautiously stepped forward and through the crack in the wall, leaving behind him the white oblivion that had cocooned him for so long, a memory of someone he once knew had seized him at the sight in front of him. "Angelique?" he asked. The Borg Queen looked into his eyes uncertain as to how to react. The question was a mystery to her as much as what had happened after the drone had held the small box in his hands, running his fingers slowly across the sides of it.
"Identify yourself," she barked.
"You dare make demands of me, princess? Know your place now lest you wish I remind you who reigns dominion in this realm," Pinhead barked back.
A cool grin slivered onto her deadened purple lips as they both fixated themselves into each other's gazes. Him standing there, her head with upper torso floating there in center, attached to her many support conduits and restraints. The Kelpien drone and his unimatrix lingering in place as if flies on the wall. If there was a soul in that lair at that instant, one could say you can cut through the present tension like a blade through flesh.
The intrigue the Queen had felt at the formidable presence of her guest had been piqued. But of course, with her, it almost never took much. Beings with a strong sense of individuality with a strong bravado boasting resilience were pawns in a game. They possessed things to strip away. She was always up for the challenge. Assimilating and conquering brought her a sensation one might even call joy. This was different, however.
"It seems you and I may possibly share some history," she said. "What that can mean, quite honestly, eludes me. But hear this: I doubt I am who you think I am. My origins are beyond being able to comprehend. Though the same may be said about you, make no mistake - I rule here and I answer to nothing and no one. Speak carefully."
It was in that instant that Pinhead felt he may have been wrong in his speculation as to who the creature was. Even while being princess of the labyrinth eons ago, never had she spoken to or countered him with such authority. While the physical resemblances between the two females had been damning, he heeded the Queen's warning and decided to address this creature differently, though he dared not let it show. Weak posturing here was something that could not be afforded. A few seconds of silence passed and Pinhead spoke.
"Who you and I are is of no interest to me. What matters now is that you have summoned Hell and there are consequences at hand which must be wrought."
Hell? she thought. It had been years since she'd pondered such a concept. While she was aware the Borg were the cause of much anguish brought to countless alien civilizations, the cold apathy the Borg Queen had worked under for ages never allowed her to contemplate what the moral ramifications of the assimilation of these races meant. Morality, ideologies, and individuality were all just things that got in the way of ultimate enlightenment. Such things were considered by the Borg to be the cause of self-destructive inadequacy and social ruin. Assimilation of intelligent life by the Borg race meant salvation and perfection. To the Borg Queen, the Borg were the saviors of the galaxy. The same way livestock have been regarded as being unfeeling or unintelligent and then slaughtered for food in centuries past, assimilation of species meant something similar to what they perceived to be the natural order of things. The spilling of blood or loss of individuality was irrelevant, for all that mattered was their goal for ultimate assimilation of life throughout known existence, and now this creature with pins in his head came to pose as the proverbial butcher ready to chop heads with the Borg being threatened to play the role of cattle to the slaughter if they didn't play nice? She simply could not allow that.
"And you believe there is a price we must pay for this summoning? You believe you have clout over what must happen to us and that surrender to you in suffering is a possible outcome? Gatekeeper, you are in the dark as to what we are - and are not - capable of. We are not capable of suffering. We are the tormentors. We are Borg. Prepare to be assimilated. Resistance is futile."
"Who's having to speak carefully now, woman?"
His words pierced her in the manner that he had intended the chains had pierced her drone moments ago. He then lifted his left hand slowly as five leather-clad demons known as Cenobites emerged from behind him, each resembling the Borg drones, save for unique facial deformities distinguishing the Cenobite warriors. Their faces, the things nightmares are made of.
"I want their heads. All of them," Pinhead demanded of his minions as the Queen reciprocated the command of her drones. And just like that, hell ensued in the Queen's lair.