Himmler reached up and seized her by the wrist, squeezing it tight. “You are mistaken. The Füehrer does not serve anyone besides the Fatherland. If you are what you say you are, then you will bow down before him, not the other way around!”
“Herr Himmler,” Dieter whispered, looking frantic. “Please. I know how it sounds but I would caution you to show respect.”
Himmler released his hold on Sonya’s wrist and stepped back, looking at her with disgust. “You need to remind your daughter of the same.”
Darhoth snorted in an unladylike fashion. Her right hand shot out with lightning speed, wrapping about the neck of the nearest scientist. Within seconds, the man’s skin began to crumble and shrink, until at last it fell away from the bone. His clothing fell to the floor amid dust and skeletal remains.
With the exception of Dieter and Vulthar, everyone else reacted with horror. The remaining scientists looked ready to bolt while Himmler himself uttered an exclamation that reflected his absolute shock.
“I can do that to you, too, Herr Himmler,” Darhoth warned. “But I do not want to. I want to help your precious Füehrer and in return, I want him to help me achieve my own goals. Our ends do not have to be at odds. Do you understand?”
Himmler took a moment to compose himself. When he spoke again, he tried to inject a sense of power into his voice but he failed somewhat. Unlike the Füehrer, he was not a natural ruler of men. “I will have to speak to the Füehrer about this. In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you could give more of that… fluid… to my men so that we may study it.”
Darhoth nodded, seemingly satisfied that her point had been made. She kicked at the dead man’s skull that lay at her feet. “The substance is my saliva, Herr Himmler. I have plenty more where that came from.”
She strode past the scientists, who gave her ample space to do so, and seized another beaker. Her tongue extended and several thick globs of liquid slowly dripped from its tip, oozing down into the container. Himmler found himself oddly aroused by the sight and he forced himself to look away lest he lose himself in the moment.
Dieter stepped towards Himmler and whispered, “I know how terrifying it may seem but her power… it is immense. Surely we can find a way to use it for our own ends.”
“Yes. And when all is said and done, we can dispense with her,” Himmler said, trying to think as Hitler would.
Dieter did not reply to that. He had seen enough of The Mother of Pus to know that it would take far more than anything the Nazis had to stop her if she succeeded in summoning more of her ilk. His soul was bound to her, however, and if push came to shove, he would not hesitate to stand at her side.
He had no choice, after all.
Nimrod cleaned the wound in his shoulder and hissed as the alcohol he’d poured over it sizzled and burned. He was furious to admit that The Peregrine had gotten the best of him. That had never happened before and it put his hard-earned reputation at risk.
Sighing, Nimrod looked around his apartment and wondered what he should do. He’d taken most of his earnings in recent years and put them right back into his operation, building up a network of informants and spies who kept tabs on various vigilantes. That was part of the way he was able to track them and observe their abilities. As such, he was still forced to live in rather squalid conditions despite his success. The days of being able to retire and enjoy his earnings still lay in the future. Being a cape-killer was expensive, he’d learned.
The payday for taking out The Peregrine would have gone a long way towards achieving his goals. He planned to retire to some Caribbean island, where he’d spend his days drinking expensive booze and having sex with brown-skinned native girls.
“But first I have to pull this off,” he murmured. He sat down next to his room’s phone and buzzed the operator, asking to be connected to a long-distance number. The man he was calling was based in Sovereign City, a town that had even more vigilante problems than Atlanta.
Within a moment, a gruff voice answered and Nimrod said, “It’s me, Fritz. The Peregrine got away from me and I’m laid up right now. I was wondering if you could give me an advance—”
Nimrod’s lips tightened as he heard the other man’s reply: “You have tried to play us for fools. We hired you to kill The Peregrine but you took a similar contract from the mob in Atlanta.”
“Both of you wanted the same thing. No reason why I shouldn’t get paid by both.”
“You either work for us or you don’t.”
“If you make me choose, I’ll side with you, but I don’t see why I should have to.”
Fritz said nothing for a moment and when he spoke again, Nimrod knew that he’d nearly gone too far. “We reached out to you because of your heritage. If you toe the line, you can be assured of a place in the coming world order. The Third Reich is already spreading across Europe and, in time, America will belong to the Fatherland as well. You would do well to remember that. Whatever money you may be receiving from those degenerates now will pale next to the glory — or torment — that will await you in the future. It is your choice which it is to be.”
Nimrod sighed. Pro-German forces had approached him nearly a year ago. They offered him money to assassinate enemies within the United States and to continue to hunt down the masked vigilantes who were sweeping the nation. Until now, they had said nothing about his continuing to accept money from others. He knew it might come up, particularly with his “double dipping” on the same assignment, but he saw no conflict of interest. Nevertheless, he knew what he was expected to say. “I will inform my other employers that I am no longer available to them. They might have questions when they find out that I completed the contract, however.”
“We are not concerned with your reputation, Nimrod. In fact, we are changing your status, effective immediately. From this day forward, you are part of the Occult Forces Project. That is the agency that will oversee all German super-soldiers.”
“I have German ancestry but I’m American.”
“I will forgive you for saying that. Your Aryan blood takes precedence over any loyalty you feel for your current homeland. Do you understand?”
“Of course.” Nimrod gritted his teeth and added, “I’ll resume my hunt for The Peregrine.”
“He is in Sovereign.”
“What?”
“You heard me. He was sighted entering the headquarters of Assistance Unlimited. You are to leave Atlanta immediately. We have a private plane reserved for you. If you encounter any of Sovereign’s heroes, you may feel free to deal with them as you see fit but The Peregrine should remain your primary target. He has attracted the attention of The Füehrer and he’s considered a threat to our activities in America.”
“I’ll do as I’m told,” Nimrod said. He hung up after getting the details of his flight, slamming the receiver down so hard that it nearly toppled over in the cradle.
His dreams of retirement suddenly seemed very far away. Once he’d killed The Peregrine, there was a very good chance that he’d be ordered to Berlin to become part of whatever-the-hell an Occult Forces Project was.
He got dressed in an efficient manner, packing as he did so. He was a very clever man and he was already thinking of ways to free himself from the snare in which he had become trapped. He would definitely kill The Peregrine. He felt he had to, in light of his defeat. Beyond that… beyond that, he might yet be able to turn this into a profitable enterprise.
Otto Luther sat alone in his laboratory. He’d clutched the vial of liquid throughout Himmler’s visit, afraid that if he allowed it to leave his hands, he would never get close to the miracle fluid again. He’d hated to see his fellow scientist die, particularly when it was done solely to show off the power of Sonya Schneider, but Otto was glad that it wasn’t he who had perished.