by Brian Moon
Chapter 1: Same old story
The green Ford Focus rolled down the long private drive to the Mannheim Retirement Estates. The Resident buildings resembled large Georgian mansions, with the grand porches and massive columns. Max shoved the last bit of his burger into his month and chewed it quickly as he turned the car into a looping drive in front of building number five. The Estates entry guard had already cleared them for they’re visitation and their pass Ids hung around their necks. The car’s tires crunched as it rolled across the pea gravel driveway to park in a small lot marked for visitors.
“Man can you imagine how much it must cost to keep your parents in a place like this?” Max said as the gazed out of the windshield at the massive structure and pristine lawn.
“I Goggled it.” said Anton between sips of his soft drink. “I don’t think our paychecks combined would get us a broom closet here.”
Max whistled and turned the car off. “I wonder where he got his money from.”
“I don’t know, we’d need a warrant to get access to his finances and for that we’d need to charge him with something.”
“Oh that’s a good one. Can you see us going to Judge Hart and saying we want to arrest a one hundred year old man for possible crimes during the depression…? I’m sure he’d get a good laugh.” Max said sarcastically as he got out of the car and brushed the crumbs and a stray French fry off his brown slacks. The sound of a car door closing came from behind him as Anton got out of the car. Anton looked rumpled and Max wondered if the man ever pressed his pants. Anton Sampson was a research technician who specialized in nanotechnologies. He was very close to a groundbreaking invention when his plans were stolen by the enigma of a super villain known as Lord Nemesis. Recent events brought Anton and Maxwell Christopher, a FBSA Agent together. Now that some super heroes had managed to stop a plan to control the weather that had been in the works for at least a decade. Anton felt convince that there was more going on that needed explaining. Maxwell went along with this, wondering just how many more landmines Nemesis had planted out there.
Max was still of the opinion that “Nemesis” was more of a title now, than an actual person. He knew his view point on this was in the minority but still, how could it be the same man? He trusted in the police record from 1932, the event they call Brass Monday, which said he died in the explosion of the Southern United Manufacturing Building. Those people that knew about Nemesis, like Anton, seem to give him a god like quality as if he too possessed amazing powers like the Statesman. Max was sure if that had been the case then more people would have seen him, but that wasn’t the case, not even in pictures. Not even from the time when it was reputed that he was an actual a man and not one of those strange brass robots that the super heroes talk about from time to time.
Now here he was with Anton, on his day off, visiting an old man that a rumor says he used to be part of the army that attacked the city on July 11, 1932. If that is true, just how much will this man remember from an event that happened seventy nine years ago? It was the researcher’s insistence that the man might die at any moment, and the possible information lost would be a loss to everyone. He reluctantly gave in and offered to drive them almost to the Massachusetts border. They were already given permission to take in a single recording device to the interview, but it would be with the old man’s choice as to whether or not they could use it once they arrived. The two men climbed the concrete steps up to the large porch area. Several residents had already taken up chairs around small tables for cards or chess, in the late morning sunlight. The men and women were dressed to personal taste but none were in bathrobes or pajamas. They held the door for an elderly couple wheeling golf clubs behind them and entered the main lobby of building number five.
Max imagined that this is how the lobby of a five-star hotel must be like. Everything just seemed to be expensive. Colors and fabrics picked up colors in from the large painting across from the reception area. They were facing a set of elevators where there would normally be a grand staircase. Max could make out their images in the reflection of the highly polished brass. They crossed over to the red marble counter where two uniform individuals sat watching them.
“Good morning, Mr. Sampson and Mr. Christopher, the main gate called a few minutes ago.” The young man said with a deep New England accent. “If you’ll please step into the room right over here” he gestured to the open doorway beside the counter, “we’ll only detain you for a moment.” Anton thanked him and he led Max into room. The room itself seemed to be a combination of emergency station and activity center.
The second man, larger than either of them came in, “Gentlemen please empty your pockets into these trays.” They both did and a wand was passed over them to detect any other items that might have been “forgotten.” “I see you have permission to have the voice recorder, but its up to the resident as to if you can use it. The valet will ask if it is okay. If they’ve changed their mind, the valet will bring it down and place it with your items for pick up. Wait at the elevators for the valet to escort you to the room. Talk to no one unless they talk to you first. Do you understand these instructions so far?” He asked looking down at each man. Max was a trained agent and didn’t let the man intimidate him, but Anton took a step back.
“Thank you, can we go now?” Max asked evenly. He and Anton stepped back into the lobby and walked up to the elevator doors. It didn’t surprise Max that the elevator had its own lift operator. The uniformed man greeted them politely and asked them if they were traveling to floor two or three. The chime dinged softly as the doors opened onto the third floor and Max and Anton stepped off. The door closed behind them and they looked down the empty hallways to the left and right waiting as they were told. A moment later a young woman wearing an official uniform came down the hall pushing an elderly woman in a wheelchair.
“I’ll be with you gentlemen in a moment, please wait for me” she said with a smile and pushed the elevator button. When it opened she pushed the woman in and secured the break. “Mrs. Morrison has a bridge date on the back veranda."
“I’ll get her there with out a problem.” The elevator operator said and pushed the button to close the doors.
“How may I help you Mr…” she paused as she read his guest pass, “Christopher and Mr. Sampson?” She looked up and gave them a slight smile.
“We have an appointment to see Mr.Eisenberg. We talked to him about recording our session, so I guess you’ll have to ask him if we still can.” Max explained to her returning her smile.
“Mr.Eisenberg? In the four years I’ve worked here he has had only one other guest and that was for his birthday. He doesn’t even get the usual lawyer visits that most of our other guests get from time to time. Are you family?”
“No we just want to ask him some questions about historical events that he lived through.”
“Oh, well I’m sure he’ll be happy to talk, he loves to talk about the old days. I’m not sure how much you’ll be able to use though. Follow me please.” The young woman turned and walked down the left hallway. Max watched as the brown hair swayed from side to side as she walked in front of them.
“Why is that?” asked Anton
“Well, keep in mind he just turned one hundred a couple months ago, so sometimes when he tells his stories the past and present can blend together. It makes for an imaginative story, but not very possible. They just didn’t have that type of technology way back then…know what I mean? Not to mention there is his paranoia. If he is to be believed then everything is all part of an elaborate plot to rule the world.” She said this laughing softly. “Wait here please.” Max and Anton exchanged looks as the woman knocked and then opened the six-panel oak door with brass fittings. They could hear her voice coming from inside and then footsteps coming back towards them. “Mr. Eisenberg says the recording is still permitted. Please come this way.” She entered the door again and led them down a short hallway into a living room area roughly sixteen feet by twelve feet. Off
of this room were two doorways, one leading to a bathroom and the other a bedroom. The living room’s floor was a mahogany colored wooden floor with matching baseboard and crown moldings. One wall was covered with a massive bookshelf from floor to ceiling and every bit of it was filled with what looked like to be personal journals with some books scattered among them. The room had two windows facing out over the back gardens and a large wood and leather couch faced the view. Two matching high back chairs sat facing the couch and a small coffee table sat between them. Sitting in one chair sat Mr. Eisenberg with an electronic reader in one hand and a pair of glasses that looked like magnifying glasses perched on his thin nose. Max envied him with his snow-white hair, which although thin, still covered his head, where Max’s own hair had begun to retreat from the top of his head.
“Gentlemen, forgive me if I don’t stand up, nor offer to shake your hands. I’m afraid my body doesn’t do those things as well as they used to.”
“Mr Eisenberg, if you need anything please give me a ring. Gentlemen, if you need assistance just pick up the phone and dial the star key.”
“Thank you Rebecca… if it’s not too much trouble can you have the kitchen send up coffee for my guests. My blend, not that awful stuff they buy at Wal-Mart.”
“Of course,” she replied and left the apartment, closing the doorway behind her.
“Mr. Eisenberg, I’m Maxwell Christopher with the Federal Bureau for Super-powered Affairs and this is Anton Sampson a research specialist in the field of nanotechnology. Thank you for seeing us today.”
Eisenberg gave both men a contemplative look, “Well I have never had super powers and I’m not a scientist in any field so to what do I owe this visit to?”
“Well Mr. Eisenberg…”
“Please call me Lukas.”
“Thank you, Lukas,” Anton started again as he turned the digital recorder on and set it on the table between them. “The reason we’re here is because we had questions about the past, specifically 1932. We have reason to believe that an event back then had something to do with an event that just happened a few weeks ago.”
“I’m sure Rebecca has already told you that I have a problem keeping the past and the present apart from each other… or do I?” He gave them a knowing smile. “So ask your questions gentlemen and this old man will do his best to answer them.”
“Well sir,” Max started “We recently discovered a plot by an arch villain by the name of Lord Nemesis. Does that name mean anything to you?”
Lukas smiled slyly, like a fox being asked if he knew what a chicken was. “You would not be bothering me at this moment in time if you didn’t already think it would. Yes gentlemen, I was part of Lord Nemesis’ army in the nineteen thirties.”
“To what degree did you interact with him?” Anton asked excitedly. Both men watched, as the old man seemed to be pondering a serious choice. Finally his face relaxed, his decision had been made.
“I don’t suppose you would be looking to send an old man to prison for crimes long since pasted. It would be nice to tell someone my story before I die. To clear my conscious before I have to stand before God and justify my actions. You do so many things in your youth, thinking that your own death will never come. Then one day you’re old and no one cares to hear about your past mistakes. They have their own death to ignore, why would they want to burden themselves with someone else’s, eh? Yet here you are asking me to confess my sins. Perhaps I will find forgiveness and salvation, after all, yes? I am Lukas Adali Eisenberg; I was Lord Nemesis’ second in command and CEO of the Southern United Manufacturing Co. Yes I was there with him in 1932 for what they now call Brass Monday. Yes he was a real man and a good friend.”
“Wait a minute; I thought the CEO of Southern United was a man by the name of Reese.” Max interrupted Lukas as he flipped through his note pad.
“So it was, Lukas Reese is what I was known as. Reese was a more American name, and people trusted that more so than Eisenberg. Plus it had its advantages when they came looking to make arrests. Lukas Reese was said to have died, while I lived on using my real name. Since no one outside of Lord Nemesis’ followers ever used my given name it was easy to hide using it. It was Mr. Reese that never really existed. So now that that mystery is cleared up, what else would you like to know?”
Both Anton and Max took in what was just said. If this man was to be believed this could be a gold mine of information. Both men look at each other then back to Lukas.
“Everything… everything you know about Nemesis and his plans during that time. Anything you remember about that event would be very useful.” Anton said excitedly.
Lukas Eisenberg chuckled at the thought of their request of know everything. “Even I didn’t know everything… no one ever did.” He thought to himself. “I don’t think you’d what to know everything that has happened in my life. I think, what you really want to know is about 1932, but how much do you know about that time yourselves? About the great depression that choked the world, and what caused it?” Mr Eisenberg’s expression became one lost in time and memory. For a moment Max thought he might have to prompt the old man, but then he continued.
“So much has changed to Paragon City since those days… so much. There were no war walls back then, you know. You didn’t need to go through layers of blast doors to get around the city. So many buildings and homes are buried under those walls. You know my favorite theater used to stand between the Atlas Park and the Steel Canyon section. Steel Canyon was a sight to behold... Back then there were more girders and concrete than finished sky scrappers. That Swiss architect had only begun his redesign of the city and you could still take a carriage ride around City Park… Atlas park now… or row a boat on the lake. No larger than life statues saluting heroes elevated to god-like stature. It was our buildings reaching into the sky that was testament to our status as a major city. Our city was lucky that we had so much going on, because it was much worse for other cities at that time. We did have food lines but what city didn’t. Still our businesses survived and some even thrived. We did lose the King’s Garment Industries and that was a major blow but their market was global and well, no one was buying back then. We were lucky indeed for companies like the Southern United Manufacturing Company.
“Lucky we had such a large corrupt conglomerate calling the shots in the city? They were the biggest criminal organization there ever was. Maybe you were lucky because you ran it for Nemesis, but I wouldn’t call it lucky.”
“Excuse me? When businesses were closing their doors for good, and people were out of work, even starving to death, who do you think was putting our city’s people to work? Right and wrong, young man is all in how you choose to see it. People like you… like the Statesman called Southern United criminal but were we any different than the major corporations of today, with their lobbyist, high powered lawyers and political favors? I will agree with you that the group calling themselves The Kings needed to be wiped out. Southern United and the Marcone Family did their best to keep those murdering thugs contained, but do you see that written anywhere in history? Where in history is it written that over twenty thousand people lost their jobs because the Freedom Phalanx wanted justice and attacked Southern United? Who by the way, had not done anything to warrant their attention and yet they declared war on our company in July. It was because THEY attacked Nemesis first that events happened. Just because Lord Nemesis was prospering during the depression, they acted like he had caused the great depression for his own gain.”
“Did Nemesis cause the depression?” Anton asked with awe in his voice.
“Don’t be stupid Anton, one man couldn’t have brought the world to economic ruin” Max rebuked him.
“Of course one man couldn’t have done that.” Eisenberg said in agreement, but the sideways look and wink he gave to Anton had the younger man convinced even more that it was possible.
“So Nemesis was just an innocent bystander, being picked on unjustly? What about his attack and siege on
Washington D.C. in 1942? He didn’t seem so innocent then, now did he?”
“I seem to recall that a large automatronic was responsible for that attack. Gentlemen, Lord Nemesis died on July eleventh, the day of your Brass Monday. I saw his body just before the building came crashing down around us.”
“So he is dead?” Max asked skeptically.
“No that’s not possible, it was him all right, and he forced them to crown him emperor.” Anton said defiantly.
“Was it now? I knew Lord Nemesis all of my life. My father served with him aiding the Confederate States of America. Both of them were in the Prussian army and had been sent as a showing of good faith by our government, to bolster General Lee’s infantry. I later served under him during World War One. My ambition got me noticed, my ingenuity to solve problems ensured his respect and he already knew my family. Eventually we came to understand each other, well enough anyway. After the war he asked me to immigrate with him to the United States to work for him. He was in his nineties when 1932 came along. You say you discovered a scheme that had been in the works for a decade? I tell you that was nothing to the long sighted Lord Nemesis.”