by Sergio Black
The Devil Lord completed his ascendancy by sending the Faceless to weed out and slaughter the Four Horsemen who rebelled in the name of Lucifer. January 1st, the Devil God fulfilled his promise and gathered the Illuminati’s inner circle, at the Altar where it all began, holding a private ceremony where he forced the murderous constituents to show their current state of physical form. The Mark of the Beasts became apparent through the rapid decay of their earthly body. The Devil God used the Scythes and opened himself up, letting his Acolytes bask in his blood, granting them a sense of immortality and Superior gifts that were unique and individualistic. They would take the place of the Four Horsemen being reincarnated from his blood. He found it fitting to crown them the Devil’s Immortals.
The Immortals led his Armies to the ends of the world, preaching his name while the Dark Following expanded, humans from all regions joined the Illuminati under the watchful eye. Corruption with no end in sight forced mortal followers to bear the Mark of the Beast in the form of decay. With the Seven Pillars of the world successfully under the Devil Lord’s supremacy, he rewarded his Immortals by literally severing the Earth into seven factions. The three remaining lands were fought over in Death Matches held at the yearly Gala where spectators would dress up as their favored gladiators and watch, as the strongest Superiors would kill each other to claim the Gold Thrones of the old Gods, the victors earning a life of luxury and succeed the title of previous Gods. But these Gods were of Occult mind and not of equal ranking to the Anti-God; his new Generals were more like Trojan condoms only to be used for a short happy ending then discarded. The Master and his followers governed the earth this way for thousands of years, always presenting themselves as Gods and Devils to uprising civilizations, promising wealth and knowledge to the primitive people in return for their unyielding faith to the Illuminati. The story prematurely cuts off with the collaboration of human conspirators and the rise of the Superior Knightz, leading the Seven Nations to the dawning of a new era...
***
The Mad Doctor stares at his beloved glyphs in frustration, pounds a bony fist on the cold glass, then turns around and walks to the center of the room to gaze at his most prized toys which he had confiscated from a cave years ago. The Book of Fate is thick, black and heavy, made from pure Sinatonium with engravings that depict several trinkets on the cover. Andrew rarely holds the Book because of its importance, but from what he can hunch, the clunky Book holds the answers to Andrew’s unanswered questions. However, the only Superior who could unlock the Book’s knowledge slipped through Andrew’s grasp some years ago. The Mad Doctor cringes in anger, staring at the incomplete Book, reminded of his failures, he snarls in disgust.
“Sir, you’re needed in operation room B-12,” Lisa Ann pages through the two-way intercom with the youth of a sprite school girl. Andrew’s face becomes twisted with frustration, he hates his train of thought being derailed.
“Okay-Okay, just give me a minute,” Andrew Rush replies in his gravely, mousey voice. When not above ground attending to matters on the upper floors of the N.S.W.P., Andrew can be found in the basement of the entire outpost, in the 120 by 130-foot rectangular room that’s decorated lavishly with several large plasma TVs, giving him access to every single cell and every single camera. Nothing is off limits to the Mad Doctor. The reinforced bunker inside the massive research fort is also where he keeps his most promising, yet illegal, artifacts hidden behind not one, but five, 75-inch Sinatonium blast doors capable of withstanding radiation, man-made explosions, or any level of blunt force trauma. The Mad Doctor had stumbled across a boatload of this promising alloy while excavating catacombs in Paris, searching for Hell’s entrance. While Sinatonium is ultimately an indestructible form of metal, it can be molded or bent under temperatures 20 times hotter than the sun coupled with a PSI pressure of 2 billion, which is the equivalent of a meteor striking the earth. Andrew only achieved the molding process with the help of a Superior who worked for the N.S.W.P. on a contract arrangement. Andrew sighs to himself like an exasperated child, “Well, best get to it.”
The Mad Doctor carefully places the hieroglyphs back into the bulletproof, shock-resistant casing, turns on the soles of his fitted Oxfords and walks to the entrance of the shiny blast doors. Using a vile, decaying index finger, he punches the TALK key on his intercom. “I’m coming out, Lisa Ann. Step back from the doors and face the elevators.” Andrew punches in the key code and the first set of locks click into place. The first set of two twin doors whir and slide open. Andrew Rush quickly paces to the retina panel located on the outside of the third door and opens his eyes wide enough for the retina scanner to thoroughly scan his pupil. The second gears whir and click as the smart system awaits the final phase of the locking system.
“Passcode required!” the smart system voices through the speaker panel. The Mad Doctor rubs his blue eyes before speaking with much agitation.
“The Mad Doctor Andrew Rush!” The system pauses momentarily as the information processes through the system.
“Authorization granted. Welcome, Doctor Rush.” Andrew waits impatiently while the final set of doors clunk and click into place before opening. The Mad Doctor stomps into the bleak corridor of the Waco site where black and white elevators sit next to one another on the other end of the hall. When Andrew first heard the nickname, The Mad Doctor, whispered behind his back, he admittedly despised the moniker. Andrew condemned anyone who entertained the gag, firing two employees who later died of unfortunate events, for jokes cracked about his sanity. Eventually, as time passed, Andrew began embracing the name, ushering a new reputation of fear and respect among colleagues and peers.
“Lisa Ann, you can turn around now,” Andrew says with a stuffy scowl.
“Yes, sir,” she replies meekly. Lisa Ann wears a dark, short sleeve blouse tucked into a gray skirt, pieced together with a gold belt that has the initials N.A.D.A. inscribed on the front, and black stilettos. Lisa Ann briskly walks behind the Mad Doctor with loud clicks that resonate from her diamond tipped heels. The Mad Doctor halts, causing Lisa Ann to collide into his back, almost dropping the thick files clasped in her pristine hands. The Mad Doctor looks over his shoulder.
“Lisa Ann? What did I say about wearing shoes that make you tower over me?” Lisa Ann drops her head to avoid the Mad Doctor’s condescending grey eyes, staring at the marble floor.
“I um-” The Mad Doctor cuts her off before she can properly respond.
“Lisa Ann! It is unprofessional for you to be taller than your Superior! You’re my subordinate and you will conduct yourself as such! One more time and you’re fired, finito, finished! If I have to say it again, I will take it as your admission to being mentally retarded, and you don’t belong here. Got it?” Lisa Ann sighs, before giving a quick nod. “Good, now let’s continue.” The Mad Doctor continues to march forward while Lisa Ann follows closely behind in humiliated silence. Lisa Ann is not a strong woman by any means, often very quiet and soft-spoken, almost to the point of being a pushover.
The 5ft 6in redhead was born and raised in Boise, Neu Idaho. During her high school years, Lisa Ann became a national archery champion and a second-place nationalist in gymnastics, making straight marks every semester (minus the 6 months she was homeschooled during her Junior year). Upon graduation, Lisa Ann received funds from an anonymous donor, giving her a full ride to the (Neu Academy of Dark Arts) and graduated at the top of her academics. Earning herself two Master Degrees, one in Neu Superior Biology and another in Neu Superior Excavations, wasting no time she applied and received an internship at the N.S.W.P. Lisa Ann is not only intelligent but also very striking, her freckles stand out against her delicate skin and make her ocean green eyes pop like black paint on white canvas.
Lisa Ann, for the most part, is down to earth and humble, a loyal bred and raised NAZI, same as her parents. Never one to seek unwanted sin through provocation, she downplays her provocative good looks. Having to deal with many unwanted passes by other co-workers as
a daily routine, but in spite of the harassment, she has the dream of one day working for the N.S.W.P. in a respected, permanent position. Lisa Ann secretly adores the Mad Doctor and sees him as a visionary for the future to come. Turning down many high paying jobs, Lisa’s sole intent is to learn and work side by side with the infamous man and eventually wishes to be seen and respected as an equal. Or even possibly his lover.
“So, Lisa Ann, who are the prime subjects today? You have my files, don’t you?” Andrew asks with an erect eyebrow.
“Yes, sir.” Lisa Ann sifts through several manila folders and awkwardly manages to open the first file. “Okay, the first runner-up is a Non-Superior. Subject 1: Victor Cruz, former Gestapo turned mercenary for Neu Wehrmacht, served six occupation tours in Neu Japan. Was just recently scouted by one of our own for his military experience and demolitions competency. Subject 2: Trevor Hagaman, nicknamed Trevor the Tremor, he apparently has a form of sound manipulation. Trevor can absorb surrounding noises and create amplified shockwaves by discharging them from his body. He actually turned a small town into a massive sinkhole, causing 25 million in property damages. Tekonsha, Neu Michigan and 378 residents are no longer on the map because of this guy. He certainly has ties to the Minutemen. It took 3 Einsatzkommando units to stop him. Medically, for one reason or another he went insane, he is diagnosed as clinically inadequate and is considered an unredeemable person of interest. He was placed on the blacklist with other unstable subjects. When we found him, he was babbling on about Attica. We’re still not sure if Attica is a place or a person, he was housed in F-1 then moved to F-3, because his risk factor was raised. At the moment, we have been running down every nation or place with the name Attica. Hopefully, we will see progression sooner than later.”
The Mad Doctor stops in his tracks as the name ATTICA rapes his ears, he turns to face Lisa Ann. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, it’s commendable, but you’re wasting your time. Attica was an ancient Greek city. It no longer exists. The temple of Poseidon still remains there. Maybe it conceals something worthy of our time. Lisa Ann, I want you to personally deliver a message. Postpone the incision procedure, we are going to Neu Greece. You have taken your vows, right? You can Phantom Phorm?”
Andrew Rush asks this knowing perfectly well Lisa Ann has yet to take her pledge of devotion. Lisa Ann in her shame looks down at the ground. She has yet to take her vows. Not quite feeling if she could completely get behind what Hitler and Neu Germany stand for. “Umm. Not yet, Doctor Rush. It’s not that I am unsure. I’m just scared. It all seems so scary.” Andrew looks at Lisa Ann with puzzling eyes.
“Well, then you’d better do it. And do it quickly. If anyone doubts your allegiance you know what awaits you. And the punishment would be more severe seeing as you are almost pure Aryan. On top of which, if you really want a full-time position here, you would first have to have taken your vows. It is the law. Anyhow, you were an excavation major, now’s your chance to prove you’re more than a pretty face... what do you say?” Lisa Ann stands silent, her lips agape with shock, that turns to a bleeding grin.
“Yes, of course. Whatever you need, Dr. Rush,” Lisa Ann walks backward, nearly tripping over her feet like a star-struck teenager. Andrew focuses on Lisa Ann, the intensity of his gaze seeming to peer right through her.
“Good, for now, we will fly via helicopter, meet at the helipad in 15.” The Mad Doctor watches Lisa Ann walk away with a champion’s smile that stretches ear to ear. Andrew knows that Lisa Ann lingers on every word he speaks like its gospel, and came from Jesus Christ himself. “All according to plan,” Doctor Rush says to himself, walking to the end of the hall, he boards the white elevator.
The Mad Doctor impatiently waits on the roof of the N.S.W.P. at the helipad. The loud Sikorski descends to the heliport. Lisa Ann bursts through the double-wide doors. Andrew turns to greet her, shouting over the whumping of the rotating blades, “You’ve made it in the nick of time! I was about to depart without you!” Lisa Ann attempts to shield her face from gale winds created by the chopper’s whirring blades, wild red hair smacking her face like tiny whips, she struggles to talk over the loud whumping.
“Sir, everything is set! The operation is being taken care of!” The Mad Doctor nods with approval.
“Great, let’s not stand here being hipper and chipper! Let’s go!” Andrew motions his beady head toward the chopper. Lisa Ann walks past him entering first, he boards behind her, grabbing the door’s latch he throws his bodyweight down, pulling the door shut.
“Where to boss?” the pilot asks. The Mad Doctor sits down, then flashes a crooked smile.
“Onward to Greece!” The pilot nods his head and hovers over the massive building before flying into the distance.
CHAPTER FOUR
SOMEWHERE OVER NEU NORTH AMERICA
Nefarious sits on the Six-Eyed Raven soaring through the blue sky, keeping a watchful eye on No.3 who’s draped over the Raven like a saddle. Nefarious closes his eyes momentarily, telepathically communicating with Winsor Magnus... “Winsor, I took a girl from the Einsatzkommandos. We’re heading to Waco, Neu Texas; the assault begins.” Nefarious can’t help but think the way he and Winsor Magnus had met was not something of fate’s design. The old man who lived through the Early Middle Ages, Byzantine Era and Late Bronze Age had literally seen it all. The centuries-old Superior had been there for Nefarious since the beginning of his ascension. Nefarious continues reminiscing...
Nefarious treks through the snowy, Petrified forest buck naked, covered in the reservoir’s black muck that to his surprise never froze or even so much as frosted over. Traveling from the Petrified forests of Neu Maine to the deep trenches of a national conservation, he is led by massive Maned Wolves for what seems like weeks of travel with no end and no terminus in sight, only to be led ultimately to Winsor Magnus...
The cavern is located near a wide river inside Mountain Park, Neu Colorado. The cave itself runs 400 meters from the river, the cavern’s mouth obscured by dense vines that run down the surface face like giant shudders.
Upon entry to the enormous dome-shaped, chilly chamber, the wolves take leave of Nefarious’ side, yipping lowly, they circle in place before settling to the cold stone floor in a casual manner that perplexes Nefarious. The ancient Superior, Winsor Magnus, walks out from the shadows and fixates his beady eyes on the wolves and wrinkles his nose with a disgruntled expression. He speaks like someone who had smoked a pack of Marlboros every day for 30 years straight.
“You wretched beasts should have been here a while ago!” Winsor Magnus centers his efforts to Nefarious with obvious agitation and points a bony finger with the irritant of an irate mother. “And you! I have been waiting centuries for this prophecy. Centuries!” Nefarious eyes the small man with a placid calm.
“Do you know who I am, old man?” Nefarious reaches to his back slowly touching the handle of the Reaper Scythe before drawing the weapon with blinding speed. The wolves that lay on the floor with docile laziness jump to life, growling and snarling at Nefarious with raised hackles. Winsor Magnus surveys Nefarious curiously before speaking.
“Of course, you’re Nefarious. Heir to Killian Killstar. The book said someone with the name of an immortal character would be the One I seek. Nefarious is the only name that makes sense. Now put that away, boy. You’re not gonna kill me. Besides, my friends have made it their duty to ensure I stay alive, no matter how powerful you may be. These wolves not only have a hyper-intelligence that rivals most humans but they’re also immune to any energy-based ability you might have inherited from your parents. But even so, I know you have no mastery over your true potential or the Reaper Scythes for that matter. Tell me, you plan to cut your way out of here?”
Nefarious looks at Winsor with perked curiosity and inches the Reaper Scythe forward. “And what do you know about my family or my father?” The Reaper Scythe halts several inches from Winsor’s face, piling tension rumbles the cavern. Winsor using an index finger, he teeters the Scythe to
wards the ground, the trembling slowly subsides.
“Besides the fact that all the men in your clan are traditionally named after stars. One more powerful than the next. I also have information that you have yet to be knighted, and your father was the great former rebel leader, Killian Grayeson Killstar. His heroic actions carved an afflicted route for you. I am also definitively positive that if you kill me, you’ll never know, nor will you learn the truth behind your father’s capture at the hands of that heinous man at the N.S.W.P. Shall I continue?” Nefarious scopes Winsor through refreshed eyes and thinks maybe the old man could be useful and decides to spare him for the moment.
“The vermin of an amoeba you refer to, is his name Andrew Rush? The Mad Doctor?” Winsor looks to Nefarious and smiles, showing nothing but gums where his teeth have long ago fallen out.
“Indeed. That is the same man who took your father years ago when you were a small boy. I fear the Mad Doctor is in cahoots with the Order of The Eye, who I suspect controls the Empires of Neu Germany, who you very well know manipulates all other workings in this world. Using fear and hatred as their ultimate weapons, they steward humanity by employing powerful Superiors to do their bidding... HIS inner circle is Superiors from the Old World who consider themselves Gods and are indeed quite powerful, but they don’t call themselves Superiors, they go by ancient names: DEATH, WRATH, WAR, RETRIBUTION, THUNDER, SKY, and so on. They each wear crowns as proof that they are HIS strongest, as a singular religious sect they call themselves the Devil’s Immortals; they will stop at nothing to achieve HIS holy grails. That singing, dancing freak allowed the Mad Doctor to act as the Minister of Hippocratic Medicine, and from what I have been able to gather, Andrew is an Agent to the Order. Agents of the Order are mortal that carry with them a sense of their immortality. It’s hard to tell who really knows what is truly happening behind the curtains when the music stops, you can bet my soul my words are the truth, as wine is red. The Agents of the Order are just mortal with prolonged life, but remember with their clout and affiliations, they are just as dangerous as you, and make no mistake, they will use every contraption in Neu Germany’s arsenal to hunt you. Humanity does what the Order can’t in the light and the Devil’s Immortals serve their real Master amid the darkness, hiding behind the might of Neu Germany, and who knows what else.