by Mark Holme
Hitler then asked to converse with Churchill, following the Brits surrender. By converse he inferred kill. Why shouldn't he slaughter his enemies? For years Churchill fought against him, gunning for his head.If a man tried for so long to defeat you, to kill you, would you just let him go? Revenge is not always just, but it always feels so good. There is an emotion that we all feel but have not labelled yet; the happy anticipation of the downfall of others. It is an emotion on the verge of jealousy, but it is not an envy of what others have that drive this feeling, it is a desire to see them have nothing at all.A bitter emotion that drives men for centuries. An emotion we must all learn to adore.
Churchill hid for years, it wasn't until 1960 and the emergence of The Beatles, that an SS officer found him hidden in a bunker in India, living of rats and insects. The large man reduced to a skeletal figure barely capable of rising out of his bed. Smoking twigs to try and quench his thirst for cigars. His voice distorted and wispy.
Hitler had the whole thing televised, the genius of it; propaganda at its best. How better to display your power, than by showing everyone the destruction of all powers that fight against you.
"Did you think you could hide forever fat man? The righteous man always wins in the end. Goodbye Sir Winston"
"I have lived a righteous life. In the end, I have already won."
Standing his scrawny frame up to its full height Churchill punched Hitler in the face. A foolish mistake, brave, but idiotic. Churchill had no right to defy our savour. Do you know Hitler’s nickname? The Grandfather of Love.
It was love for this planet that caused him to do what he did next. To put his switchblade directly through Churchill's forehead. You can still visit the bunker today. Pay pennies to throw tomatoes at his corpse. Who cares for a failure?
His next step in cleansing this planet was to eradicate The Beatles before they even existed. Possibly the best musicians to have ever lived, but British and filthy. No one shall be admired unless Hitler decides they can be. It's not about talent, it's about respecting those who stand over you.They had one hit 'Hello Goodbye', which is ironically how the world treated them thanks to Hitler. He ridiculed them, until the point that anybody who followed them was hung by the neck from the closest street lamp.
One thing Hitler was surprisingly proud of, given his humongous achievements, was his tiny VW Beatle. He had film after film created about the car, giving it a personality and super speed.It was marketed as a Ferrari, the Italian super cars were the most successful but for many years the tiny Beatle competed with them all. It won touring car race and rally championships. Le Mans champion 3 years running. Success he more than deserved.
As with all great visionaries, eventually everybody views them as insane. Hitler was an old man when his health began to deteriorate. Even once in the home with nurses treating him like he was a baby his fear lived on, no one dared defy him. This is around the time the film Psycho was produced, until this point all film had been black and white Nazi cinema designed to keep the human race working like clockwork. Like a well-oiled German machine. Hitchcock had Hitler riled, he had so many similarities with Churchill, he was British, but he had the scum running out of the cinemas screaming. He had them petrified. So what did Hitler do? He locked the cinema doors. One genius took advantage of the locked cinemas, a cinema owner herself, she decided to burn as many people as possible. She must have developed the same thrill as I do when I see fire. Have you any idea how flammable 35mm nitrate film is?
After Hitler let the Brits have their chance, his mind turned on him completely, within a week he was shaking in his white linen bed. The nurses dared not care for him, one word from the Führer and they were dead. They were nothing. He had a memory disease, Alzheimer’s or something like that. I cannot remember.
Within a week of sanctioning Psycho for public viewing he was crying, pretending to hold a gun down his throat. Whispering quietly. Tears rolling through his long grizzly moustache. I am glad no one saw our great leader in this state. Through the years your loyalties fade, cretins. Stories begin to leak out like rain drops trickling down the mountain side to create a river. He was begging on his knees not to have to kill himself, stuck on the edge of suicide for years. At the age of 70, on the 25th of June, Hitler died.
People mourned in the thousands, pilgrims marching miles to see their Führer’s tomb. It was a grand white marble statue in the centre of Berlin, a statue of the man as he was when he won the war. When I heard the tale of his tragic death, how the great leader descended to a weeping child, I cried at first. Then I laughed. Then I felt nothing. Such a pathetic man, he had all these dreams, all these fantasies.
My fantasies will be brought into reality. I have realised before my death that some ideas are too big to give birth to in a singular life time. Something's need more than passion and planning.
After his death the Germans felt so vulnerable, the aura of his past actions provided a veil of security for them. The nuclear arms race was on, with the German Empire starting before the gun. Before the world had even thought of collecting nuclear weapons, the Germans had enough to blow the entire planet into smithereens.
Think about the determination it takes to send the order to use an atomic bomb. To sign the death warrant for millions of people and destroy the entire history of a city. I like history. I hate people. I could kill you all easily. Yet to kill what you have all created would be much harder. I’m not sure I could do it with a clear conscience.
Changes were made to the hierarchy in Britain. The Royals were placed not only underneath the German leaders, but underneath the German people. The Queen was reduced to a peasant, her money absorbed by the empire. She earned money, lots of money, sharing the crowns secrets. She even made enough to fund a “Royal” wedding for her son. Not a bad job either for us normal folk.At least Princess Diana is no longer hounded by the press.
The world is torn apart and it is glorious. The Olympic Games have been cancelled, replaced with the war games every four years. Imagine a huge paintball arena with real guns. They even throw in gladiator like beast versus man fights; no long range weapons allowed. It is brutal and brilliant.
Why are you all so afraid of death? It should be celebrated not mourned. Nobody lasts forever.
Do you know what the longest lasting act that Hitler did was? The killing of millions of Jews? The creation of a world war? Not completing his task? No. What will last longest in his legacy will be the families of the allied forces, who will never be able to say goodbye to their lost loved. He did not allow any other nation, axis or allied, to make burial zones for their dead. They rotted away were they fell, never to be seen again. Forest food. He did not mark his greatest achievement. He did not monument every murder he caused properly. Such sloppiness by one so great. Hundreds and hundreds of white cross graves line fields in Germany. All the men who failed to fulfil his plans are honoured whilst those who succeeded are forced to farm pigs like you.
There are many ways to keep frightened animals under control. 9/11 was celebrated for months.
Chapter 16
The Superior Race
The police force were on the case within hours, knocking door to door with a photocopied passport picture. Being a detective has its advantages during times of trouble.
Jack and Fliss searched the city centre, all young John's favourite shops. It's a peculiar phenomenon how close parents become when their child is in danger, despite their current feelings towards each other.
It was late when Jack arrived at the art gallery, around 11 o clock when it was no longer practical to search, but far too early for a restless mind to sleep.
To his surprise the film was already running, a live stream from the CCTV cameras. He shook the sleeping guard and threw him out of the building. He carefully placed the headphones on looking at the LCD screens. Looking at one screen in particular.
"She was mine! You had no right to this you animal!"
"Are we not all but animals
Leonidas? Are we not all living cells fuelled by our emotions despite what our brain thinks?"
Leonidas glared with pure hatred at himself in the full length mirror in the gallery. Leo looked back as smug as humanly possible. He was winning.
"People have not been seen as property for decades Leonidas, how can she possible be yours? You heard the voicemail as clear as I did. She was leaving you. So you killed her."
"The message was a fake and you know it! You made it! She was mine and I was hers! Do not drag me into your killing spree!"
Leo smiled calmly.
"You're in it already Leonidas, whether you like it or not, you’re a murderer. You are as guilty as I; we both wanted her dead - you just made it happen."
"You spineless abomination, I should have destroyed you months ago, you walk in my life, you kill with my hands and turn everything I ever loved into nothing. You will die Leo, even if it means I have to."
"You’re the spineless human! You let me kill them all. You liked it. You savoured it. You wanted more"
"NO MORE!"
It is a pity me and Leonidas can't look at each other eye to eye, he stared at the ground whilst I desperately stared at my own reflection trying to absorb the anger in his eyes. I felt his rage building inside of us, felt his hunger to kill. You humans really need to learn when to give up. When to accept defeat, it will be your downfall in the end. When this planet is barren and dead but you desperately cling on to its existence. Desperately want to continue living at 'home'. You won't leave, then you will die. Crumble away like the lump of rock you adore so much.
It's a pity me and Leo can't see eye to eye, we could both live if only we learned to co-operate. If only we learned to stop attempting to win. What is winning anyway? What does it mean? An ego boost. A waste of time. You win one war, you lose another. I had suppressed him, I know I had. Yet he repays me sevenfold. I can't back down now, as much as I'd like to. I can't.
Leonidas will fight me to the grave, to the edge of the universe and beyond. Such pathetic creatures. The earth will breathe a sigh of relief when you are all extinguished. Or at least all of the vermin. I'm the good guy in this tale you know. I'm pest control. I'm the refresh button. I will save your kind, because I can.What will you do once the human population is so vast that you are living in each other's excrement? Starving like third world countries. Will you still turn a blind eye, will you still sit high and mighty ignoring those in need? Of course you will. That is why you, and everyone you know, must perish. Perhaps everyone is an exaggeration. Nine out of nine and three quarters.
Spencer watched on intrigued. Then he realised this stream was live. This argument was happening right now, somewhere in this gallery. No, somewhere on this floor. The man’s outline seemed strangely familiar to him.
"No more what scum? No more facts?"
"No more Leo. No more games and no more killings. No more." A tear rolled down Leonidas cheek, dripping onto his brown brogues.
I've broken him. This is it, this is my chance. My chance to plant a seed that will rival Jack and his magic beans. I will plant a seed that will strangle his soul.
"Take control of this body then, stop these hands from killing. Admit it Leonidas, you like it."
"'These hands' they are my hands Leo, this is my body, and you will leave!"
"If I control your body, then whose body really is it? From my point of view your are just a voice in my head, not the other way around”
I have a point, even you must acknowledge that.
Jack Spencer burst into the exhibition and looked Leonidas' reflection directly in the eyes. I've got you now boy.
He paused in shock, flicked his recently lit cigar on the white marble floor and charged at Leo, ready to ram his smug face into the glass which he addressed.
The exhibition was a brand new da Vinci homage. A shrine to his brilliance from the Mona Lisa to his blue prints for a tank. A classy display in the grand marble hall. A hall embedded with gold Grecian prints. The name Leonardo da Vinci was in gold letters above the black framed mirror that Leo gazed in to.
"Good evening Jack."Spoke Leo smoothly.
Leo turned 180 degrees to tower over the tall detective. Spencer had committed himself early to a waist height tackle after Leo turned around. Leo read it and delivered a powerful uppercut to Jack's jaw.
The momentum combined with the force of the strike caused Jack to float several inches into the air, before thudding unconscious on the white marble floor.
"Good evening Jack" he spoke smugly.
It is strange how one phrase has a different meaning given the manner in which it is delivered. It is true that 80% of what we say does not travel through our lips. Though you know that already. What you don't know is the 20% that slips through your lips is completely useless.
I walked out of that hall, my brogues tapping calmly on the marble and the bright spot lights highlighting the unconscious body behind me, more content than I have ever felt in my life. Walked the short distance to the tram station and travelled home without a care in the world. Everything was just perfect.
It is about time to reveal my plans. Just wait, you will see, you will learn of my wisdom. Who knows, you may even survive to see how this all ends.
I sat Leonidas down on the sofa like a parent sitting down a child for an important "chat".
"This was never about the killing Leonidas, never about how many burials and cremations I can cause. How long do you think it would take to hand kill ever human? The population is rising at a far greater rate than I can reduce it. The deaths were for fun, a stepping stone that is no longer required."
"NOT ABOUT THE KILLING? Then why on earth did you kill them all? Do you know how many nights I've lay awake because of your fun? You're gone Leo, you're finished."
"One, one night when we didn't kill at all and you missed it. That's beside the point, shut up and listen child. Shut up and learn"
I pinched his hand to keep him under control. It is like having an excitable puppy jumping up at you without a clue about what it wants.
"They are coming for us, and you need to know the plan. Forget about the dead, they are gone. Nothing we do can change that. This whole thing is about revenge against society, about starting fresh. If Darwin is right and we have all evolved over centuries due to survival of the fittest, there is only one way to start again. I must take away everything you have. Watch you tear yourselves apart like cavemen. Everyone is nice when things are good, what happens when things are going bad? People transform into monsters. People become like me. My few killings are not even the tip of the ice berg, they are but a grain of ice in the greater picture. Hitler strived for the superior race, what's so wrong about that?"
"We are all different for a reason! We all have a purpose."
"We are all different because we are all imperfect, I have warned you before about the evolutionary properties of technology. I will turn all your wisdom against you. Technology will be your downfall. I will hack phones and break in to Facebook, Twitter, and any social media that you all use. I'll have your passwords, your secrets, your lives. How many bank branch managers are online? Thousands. One of them will give you away, one of them will hand me the key to the treasure chest. I am going to rob the world. Watch you be reborn again out of the ashes. No one will even remember what a computer was. You will start fresh on an equal playing field, and the fittest will survive. The fittest will prosper. I will have my superior race. The superior race."
Chapter 17
Insanity
To be insane is to think differently to others, perhaps you have a more offensive definition but this is the basis of your view. Maybe I am kind to those who are mentally ill as I am Ill myself. I have a disease of the brain who wants to rob the world. Deep down I am good, I know I am good as much as Leo knows he is doing the right thing. Leo is wrong. Is it inconceivable that I am wrong to?
Most of you will not know what it feels like to question yourself, to n
ot truly know who you are. Are you a good person? Are you sure? I was. Now I am not. It has even occurred to me that Leo might be right. Maybe I am just the voice inside his head, maybe I am the disease.
The more I think about it, the more I know it to be true, we are all tiny people living in our own minds in a humongous world. We are a tadpole in the Pacific Ocean.I cannot remember my birth, my childhood before my parent’s death. Do these memories exist? Did they really happen?
I must have been born somewhere or I would not exist. Maybe I was born inside this head, some form of tumour that evolved to have a consciousness.
It is always the monster who is stuck inside the good man. Jekyll and Hyde, The Incredible Hulk, Fight Club. What if the man inside is the nice one. What if evil has a guilty conscience? It takes a truly evil man to know he is doing wrong and continue anyway. The bad guy thinks he is the good guy until he reminisces on the consequences of his actions.
If Leo had his way the world would be as it started, obsessed with his superior race. Does a superior race not have variety?
I am insane. I am good. Whenever you see that man muttering to himself, or looking wide eyed in to the horizon, remember me. Remember that a good man could be trapped inside. I truly believe that we are all equal from ant to astronaut.
I may not know if I am a good man, but I know exactly what a good man is. A good man is the man who treats his enemy as he treats his best friend. Who treats rich and poor alike, who shares his assets and skills until he has only enough to survive. A man who doesn't say 'why me?' but 'why not me?'. A man opposite to Leo.
I must reminisce on my life now, I won't have it for much longer. I will belong to the government; I will belong to the Germans.
You will belong to me.
I suppose my first memory is the death of my parents. I feel guilty that I do not remember more about them, my mother was of Italian ancestry, my father British. Beyond that I don't know much, they had dark hair and eyes. I presume my father was tall given my height. They are just silhouettes in my mind. If it is my mind.