-'S'-

Agent Zytal studied the dials of the control console, beyond sunk into a concrete well in the cavernous laboratory was an exposed chassis of the Annunki's incredible flying disc. The machine was stripped of it's skin, cockpit, and ancillaries; at the heart of the skeletal frame span the motor that allowed the machine to fly, performing gravity defying manoeuvres at break neck speed. The disc was fixed solidly to a steel frame that extended into the superstructure of the building itself.

Zytal rubbed his close cropped red hair, cupping the cranium and rubbing the thick muscles of his neck. Earlier at Göring's party an American diplomat had greeted him – calling him Luthor, and while that was his family name, it was not the title he now chose to use. At least not here.

"How goes the tests?" His associate was an older man, bearded, his dark hair much longer than his own. Zytal felt him hovering hawk like beside him.

"It was as you suspected Doctor Hastor." he answered, gesturing to the dials. "The radiation levels have dropped to negligible levels."

"Call me Anton my boy!" Hastor said slapping Zytal hard on the back. His grin was one of triumph. They turned to where the Riech Marshal of the Luftwaffe stood watching the test apparatus.

Göring had arrived on board his personal luxury train, and base of operations, from where he was able to direct the Luftwaffe's campaign against England. The portly head of the Reich's air force watched this test closely with an expectant expression.

Zytal explained. "When the Annunki agreed to share their flying disc technology with the Fuhrer they did so fully knowing that human physiology was ill suited to fly their craft, not only does it multiply the effect of gravity – the so called G-force as their craft accelerate and manoeuvre can cause a man to pass out, but the engines magnetic propulsion system emits dangerous radiation, as detected by the Geiger-Müller counters we have installed in this room. Normally exposure to a working flying disc engine would be quickly lethal, at least for human beings."

"Zytal how are you containing the radiation?" Göring asked. The red head youth smiled thinly, he had worked with Annunki technology for a number of months, and he had not even come close to solving the problem. Then in recent weeks he had been introduced to Hastor, a man of middle eastern extraction, from Egypt originally he had explained, recently leaving America for Germany in search of the Third Reich's generous sponsorship – in this he and Zytal-Luthor were alike.

Hastor had a reputation as an expert in the field of electricity and magnetism. However this was nothing compared to the strange substance he had brought with him.

"Doctor Hastor's unique element seems to absorb the radiation neutralising the negative effects." Zytal pointed to the bare chassis of the flying disc. "There is a thin sheet of the metal – paper thin, fixed around the heart of the Annunki engine." What he did not tell his Nazi Master was that the foil had been worked from the blade of an ancient weapon that Hastor had brought with him.

"Excellent." Göring stated. "This means that we can adapt these flying discs, make them safe for our pilots?"

"That is my conclusion." Zytal stated. "Provided we can source more of this material." Looking to Hastor expectantly, but the older man stonewalled his implicit question. Zytal suspected there was very little of this metal available any where. Perhaps the sword was unique? Zytal did not know.

While that was not his fault, he suspected that it might become his problem.

"How hard is the engine in that disc working?" The Reich Marshall asked.

"At about one eighth of it's potential."

Göring laughed. "Turn it up!" he said. "I want to see it really hum."

Zytal frowned, but acquiesced, honestly he did not see what Hitler saw in this fat peacock of a man. He rotated the dial on the panel and the distant internal cylinder span faster, electrical discharges crackling widely across it's surface.

"At this intensity – only one quarter power we would have previously expected to receive a lethal dose of radiation in a matter of minutes." Hastor stated.

"And now?" Göring asked.

"Nothing." Zytal replied.

Göring's eyes became wide as did his grin. "More power!" he demanded, and Zytal hesitantly increased the setting. The dial measuring the radiation in the room trembled but the count did not change. As Hastor accepted praise from the Reichs Marshal something incredible happened.

Zytal noticed the tremble of the console under his fingers, then his keen eye observed how the reinforced superstructure that contained the laboratories and assocaited buildings begin to vibrate, the complex built over a series of heavy duty bunkers, a web of steel laced concrete trembled, and sang a haunting note.

"What is happening?" Göring demanded. "Agent Zytal?" He spluttered, his bravado evaporating, as the chamber hummed and the structure shivered as if alive. Around them was cacophony of snaps and cracks.

A shout came from above, and a soldier ran down the metal stairs into the laboratory.

"The building it is moving!" He spluttered. "It rises!"

-'S'-

Diana had followed Agent Zytal, the American defector Steve Trevor had identified as Lex Luthor. She did so invisibly from her plane, and it had been easy to track the big Mercedes staff car as it left Berlin to return the scientist to his place of work.

The complex was sited at a rail head, in isolated farm land, and arriving shortly after her quarry and the private train of Reich Marshal Göring. She had watched the pompous officer disembark and enter the connected series of buildings.

Inspecting the installation she saw it had been heavily fortified against air attack. It's modular construction was more like a ship than a series of buildings. There was a number of anti-aircraft guns mounted at key locations, and the complex was heavily guarded by the army.

Wonder Woman concentrated her thoughts and turning around in a pirouette of sublime grace, she engaged her chameleon like ability to change her appearance, Diana Prince emerged where the Amazon Champion had stood, but in the stead of her US army volunteer corps uniform, she wore the grey of the German Army, Diana confidently dropped into the vipers nest.

Behind the check points the buildings staff assumed she was one of them. Moving through the interconnecting buildings Diana gained an insight into their purpose. It was clearly a place of research, a place of science. Whatever the Germans valued lay beneath her feet, but she saw access to the bunkers below required she cross yet more security checks.

When the building began to vibrate she was at first confused. Uncertain she took the first exit outside she could find, and in this she was not alone, the base was disgorging confused personnel into the open, and many wobbled as the struggled with both their footing and the evidence of their eyes.

The pipes and cables running into the complex were being torn up and broken as the whole reinforced concrete edifice rose slowly into the air. Diana leapt clear, others followed suit, the building was only a few feet above ground level, exposing the sealed chambers of the underground bunkers, the mass of interconnecting steel and concrete holding together as one solid citadel. It hovered there steady, holding its position, an impossible sight. Yet the evidence of her eyes was clear. She gasped non the less.

Her Amazon training had seen this effect before, a subtle glimmer, invisible to most, but one she knew, she had seen the glow around the Wings of her new found friends in the Justice Society; Hawk Man and Hawk Girl.

Nth metal was the only answer, the greatest secret of the ancients. Amazon histories spoke in awe of it's power.

Some how the Nazi's had stumbled onto the power of Nth metal, the material that allowed Hawk Man and Hawk Girl to control gravity, that channelled their consciousness and gave them a measure of invulnerability that was similar to her own.

This was not the artefact of power she had come to Germany to find - but Nth Metal represented a serious shift in the balance of power in Patriarchs World. Knowing this she decided it was time for Wonder Woman to meet with Captain Steve Trevor once more.

-'S'-

Wotan stirred in his crypt, he could feel the pulsating energies of his nation – of it's people, of the many who now bowed their knee, conquered – defeated, the spoils of war for him was more strength, and a clarity of vision.

His mind stretched out across Europe like a spiders web, a crystalline invisible lattice, and he felt the life of his people vibrate through the threads into his heart.

He felt the coming and goings of beings of power.

He felt the presence on the periphery – in the war zone of a familiar shape in his minds eye, that tell tale hot bright signature of Superman, burning like the sun, then much closer to home was another vibration pinging his supernatural web, another being of power, one that close to his own, not alien like American Superman, but kin to his own god-given strength.

Wotan laughed.

-'S'-

Arriving at Trevor's Berlin residence quickly was a simple matter for the Amazon Princess who recounted the incredible news.

"This isn't good." Trevor said at last, he ran his hands through his hair. "Damn it – how could they get so ahead of us so fast?"

"Nth Metal is the greatest of the secrets from ancient times." Wonder Woman replied.

He was a tall man but he found Wonder Woman his equal, her femininity and relaxed confidence both intimidated him and comforted him. Steve recognised the contradiction, but he also had his mission, to ensure Wonder Woman was on the American side. At least he thought, she serves democracy even if it is to bring bad news.

"This is the stuff that allows Hawkman to fly?" Trevor asked. She nodded. "Then why can't we – why doesn't he help us?" He demanded.

"You mean why don't the Hawks turn over their wings?"

"Yes." Trevor said emphatically. It seemed obvious to him, as American's these costumed heroes should do the right thing. He imagined some genius cracking the secret and new aircraft taking to the skies as a result.

He could see from Wonder Woman's stern expression that she did not agree.

"What you are asking of Hawk Man and Hawk Girl is impossible."

"Why?"

"Because their Wings are ancient artefacts of power - they are forged Nth Metal.

"My Lasso and my Vambrace's are god made, and once forged into a pattern they cannot be unforged, remade in something else. I can't give you or your American Scientists my artefacts of power, they are made for me, and would not work for another. You would destroy them at least, if not yourselves in the trying."

Steve folded his arms, this was something she had told him before, her magic weapons were hers and hers alone.

"Nth Metal is the same, whoever first created Nth Metal made it so, once it is forged it can only be used as it is made." Wonder Woman continued. "As I understand it – as Hawkgirl explained to me, only certain people have the skill, the mind, the force of personality to make it work."

"I couldn't fly using their wings?" Steve asked.

Wonder Woman shook her head, her long dark hair cascaded around her shoulders. "It is as I said. You could try and reshape it – try and master it, but you would fail."

"Then how are the Nazi's doing this?"

"The only way is if they are using raw Nth metal – forged by skilled hands."

"Where could they have got this raw metal from?"

"I honestly don't know." Diana admitted. "That is a question that has been asked down the ages, many wise people have sought Nth Metal, very few have found any."

Steve sighed, and pulled a face, he felt like punching the wall.

"I need to report this back to Washington." He said finally

Wonder Woman nodded, clearly she had said her piece, and was turning to leave him, moving to the same window that had been her point of entrance, as she moved she said. "I was counting on that. The Justice Society needs to hear about this."

"Where are you going?"

"To continue my surveillance of the enemy Captain Trevor. I am sure they will try and quickly turn this discovery to their advantage, to break the unexpected deadlock over the skies of England. When I learn more, I will contact you or your assistant Diana Prince."

"I'd rather you contacted me." Steve said with as much charm as he could muster.

"What's the matter Captain – don't you trust her, or me, or is it women in general?"

Trevor felt angry. "No." He said biting his tongue, keeping his tone sweet, it's just protocol." He shrugged with an apologetic smile, he hoped she would see.

"You should trust Diana, and what she tells you." Wonder Woman replied, turning again to leave him, but Trevor had something else he needed to say.

"Wait! Okay I'll trust Lieutenant Prince." He said, he'd give her that much, since she asked him too. "But there is something you need to know."

She turned back, her blue eyes looked at him directly. He shifted he was not used to having to chase a girl so hard for her attention. Reaching into his briefcase he passed her a manilla file. Wonder Woman opening found it contained a single picture, a woman in an open top Mercedes being driven into a what appeared to be a fortified gate. Above it the Nazi Eagle banner.

"This is Baroness Paula Von Guntha." The Amazon said. "I told you she was a spy."

"Wonder Woman the Baroness may be something much more." He explained.

"Her husband was to all intents and purposes my opposite number here in Berlin. A Captain in the SD. He has however recently dropped out of sight, I had no idea where, until I followed up information I got from a contact. I was told about a secret program codenamed Reich Knights, I believe this is an answer in kind to the cooperation you and your friends engaged in – the Justice Society."

"Both of the Von Gunther's are involved?" Wonder Woman asked.

He nodded. "It appears so.

"Look this means there is - or at least there will be - a group of metahumans called the Riech Knights headed by Wotan."

Wonder Woman folded her arms. "That comes as no surprise, there are many beings of power in the Earth, both new and old, some will be loyal to this Hitler."

"Wait!" he said again as she tried to leave.

"What is it Steven Trevor?"

Steve's expression sank, he hoped he did not sound desperate. Hell, he thought, I am desperate, this is desperate situation.

"Be careful beautiful. Wotan is out there somewhere – this is his country and he has already defeated Superman."

"I am not Superman. I am an Amazon." Wonder Woman replied. This time she leapt through his open window into the night.

-'S'-

Clark Kent dug his hands into his pockets, the sun was setting over the Mediterranean sea and before him the busy picturesque harbour of the Port of Marseilles, in the south of France. Sail boats and trawlers bobbed on the water, and the harbour front bars and cafe's buzzed with trade, the war had brought many people to this beautiful and historic city.

He and Lois Lane were de facto guests of the Vichy French Government, a puppet regime of the German occupation, American neutrality gave them limited freedom of movement.

It had seemed a good idea to Lois at the time. She and Clark disembarked in Lisbon, glad to be free of the wounded freighter. He had found a place for them to grab a bite to eat .

"Always a must with you Kent." Lois had told him, "You have the appetite of an elephant." They had relished the fresh sea food the region was famed for, and in doing so they had met a group of American's waiting for imminent arrival of the SS Washington, and evacuation.

Talking with them Lois had stumbled on a tale of adventure and subterfuge. Clark had tried to stop her but she had been determined. He had relented.

"You're not going alone." He had insisted.

Overland they had crossed into France making their way to the Mediterranean coast. There Lois had met with a contact from her time in French Capital.

Clark returned to the bistro where the women were waiting.

"Hello Mary." He said, sitting down beside Lois.

Mary Jayne Gold was a beautiful socialite who had enjoyed the high society night life of both London and Paris. She smiled at him and poured him a glass of red wine.

"It's a lovely night." She said raising her glass for a toast. Lois joined her, Clark belatedly raised his, allowing a goofy smile to cross his face. His eyes searched the surrounding area, his ears listening. Mary Jayne was a dark haired beauty, she wore clothes well.

"Honestly darling I have enjoyed myself immensely." She told him about her chic apartment in Paris, the endless round of parties, nearly ten years away from America.

"Then war came, and I retreated into the arms of the considerable charms of Marseilles." She confessed. Her voice became conspiratorial. "Frankly I tried, unsuccessfully mind you to bring darling Peterkin with me." She turned to Lois. "You would have loved him he was a darling little boy, just two years old."

"What happened?" Asked Lois. Clark recognised that look, she clearly sensed a story.

"He was a child of my dear friends – Daniel and Theo Bénédite, they hoped I might rescue him and take him to America, but without papers this proved impossible." Mary Jayne explained. Behind the haute couture exterior Clark saw there was a confidant and accomplished woman, one who had piloted her own plane around Europe.

Clark recognised the story too, the Reporter in him appreciated the human interest angle, the story of wealthy beautiful American lady risking Nazi wrath for trying to save a two year old child.

"Do you Ski?" Mary Jayne asked him. He shook his head.

"Oh you must try it." She told him, and began to recount her favourite resorts.

"I think we have company." Clark interrupted her.

Mary Jayne gave him a odd look, but he was correct.

The young Frenchman approached from the shadows.

Mary Jayne appeared to recognise him. "I am so sorry there is something I promised to do." She said as she got up to leave.

Clark's superhuman vision checked over the newcomer, Gold's demeanour seemed a little off to him, her heart rate had begun to race.

"Oh darling who is this delightful young man?" Lois asked. Clark considered the possibility Gold might be romantically involved with this man, but he felt there something else going on.

Clark saw that Lois was not going to let this story get away so easily.

Mary Jayne Gold seemed to grasp this fact too, she introduced her friend. "Mr Kent, Miss Lane, of the Metropolis Daily Star, please meet Monsieur Raymond Couraud. Although I call him Killer, because he mercilessly murders the English Language." Clark grabbed the wine bottle. "How did you find Norway?" He asked Couraud. Pouring the Frenchman a glass of the local vintage. "You were there with the Foreign Legion as I recall?"

"You were there Monsieur?" Raymond asked surprised. The Legionnaire spoke with a tortured accent. Lois pulled a face, she clearly wasn't sure about the charismatic Raymond Couraud, Clark decided, and he found that knowledge satisfying, but Raymond's nickname was more than appropriate – Mary Jayne was right, he murdered the English language.

"I was attached to the British Expeditionary Force in Norway, until I was injured." Clark replied with his cover story. "You were at the Battles of Narvick, where you won the Croix de Guerre with palm, if I am not mistaken?"

"You are remarkably well informed Mr Kent." Mary Jayne noted coolly.

"For a guy who has to wear glasses Clark sees a lot." Lois said with a grin. Her joke at Clark's expense lightening the mood.

"Perhaps these are people we can trust?" The French Legionnaire asked his American friend.

Mary Jayne nodded. "I was sure of Lois."

"Thanks." Lane said with a tip of her glass.

"If Monsieur Kent was in Norway with the British, then he is Okay – non?" Raymond ventured.

Mary Jayne laughed. "Oh I am sure he is, why the hell not . Let's go for a walk down to the Harbour." She said definitely, getting up. Taking Raymond's arm.

Clark felt Lois take his, they walked two couples taking an evening stroll.

"Look Killer." Mary Jayne said. "I'm all for this, but I need to know this guy isn't pulling a fast one."

"I don't know what you mean?" Raymond replied, as they walked arm in arm.

"I don't want to pay over the odds for this boat." Mary Jane told him.

Clark watched them together. Mary Jayne clearly had a soft spot for the rakish Frenchman and she had the francs to spend, and as he glanced into Lois's violet eyes and he understood.

Couraud seemed to eventually grasp Mary Jaynes meaning. "It's a fair price." He told her. "It has to carry me and the others – douze – twelve to Gibraltar."

In due course they arrived at the trawler in question. Clark thought the old fishing boat looked like it wouldn't make it across the bay, never mind around the Iberian peninsula, but he understood Raymond 'Killer 'Couraud. He and his fellow Legionnaires didn't want to surrender, they wanted to join the British forces there – to continue the fight to liberate France.

"Alright." Mary Jayne said, apparently relenting. "Let's do this Killer."

From the bowels of the ship men emerged to discuss the deal, Clark glanced at them and saw concealed weapons, he saw tense faces and heard their adrenaline rush. He saw this was going to go wrong.

-'S'-

Beside her Lois felt Clark tense, his arm wrapped around her, and to her surprise the burly farm-boy moved between her and the dark. Protectively she realised. She found that she was not surprised when her Okie's instincts proved correct.

"Let us not do this, or anything like it." The French Military Police Officer showed his papers.

Couraud bolted, but was quickly tackled and brought down, by two officers disguised as crew. Raymond lay face down kicking and screaming profanities in French, having no respect for the collaborating officials of the Vichy.

"Captain." Mary Jayne began with a charming smile. "I was just helping a friend take a trip in a boat with a few pals – what's the harm?"

"Desertion Mademoiselle is not a matter the French Army takes lightly."

"Desertion?" Gold said with a gasp. She is a good actress at least Lois thought.

"Monsieur Couroud is a Legionnaire, as I suspect are his as you say – pals."

"Really that is a surprise." Lois added.

"And you are?"

"Lois Lane, and this is my companion Clark Kent." She watched the young soldier being dragged away, and fought her anger doing her utmost to be charming. "We're good friends of Miss Gold, I knew her in Paris." She said.

"Perhaps so. Perhaps American Mademoiselle's hang around the docks of their American cities by night, and there often buy expensive gifts for boys on a whim - I don't know – but I think I will ask you to join me at my house for a little conversation."

-'S'-

"Baron August Von Gunther." Lex Luthor noted, he stroked the bald skin of his head just behind his ear in an absent minded gesture, that reminded him of his lost mane of red hair. "What is so special about you my friend?" Luthor asked. Reading the chart he held in his hand.

Luthor stood before the sedated the test subject. August Von Gunther lay on a hospital bed, in another wise deserted ward.

Lex noted this man satisfied the basic requirements, height, weight, and age fell within the parameters that he had set out, physically he also conformed to the Nazi ideal of a blue eyed – blond haired Aryan. " Miss Teschmacher." He continued. "What sins does Captain Von Gunther seek to absolve?"

Teschmacher was a model of Teutonic efficiency, and Nordic beauty, Lex was pleased by both, she was a valuable aide de camp and he was grateful for her wide eyed childish charm, which so often disarmed those Nazi officials whose impatient demands for results interrupted his work; Lex was not fooled by her however, within her pretty head lay a rapier like intellect.

"Ambition Sir." She replied, the tailored uniform in grey, fitted jacket, and pencil thin skin complimented her. Luthor gestured. "Elucidate."

"August Von Gunther was born a poor relation of a noble Austrian family, he seduced and then married his cousin gaining her lands, wealth and title, then prostituted her to gain leverage. Enlisting her into the Sicherheitsdienst, he sent his wife to America to exploit their family's extensive connections in industry and business to gain intelligence about the American war effort for the SD." Tessmacher referred to Von Gunther's file, flicking through the typed pages.

"I have met the Baroness Von Gunther." Luthor chuckled delighting in the surprise. "I am impressed she was able to perform so effectively under duress – to rise in stature in the SD." He thought of her visit accompanying SS Colonel's Wüst and Willigut, to the adjoining facility were the clone army was still maturing quickly, but not quickly enough to impress his Nazi pay masters.

"After Austria's incorporation in the Reich, August Von Gunther was quickly promoted through the Security Service's ranks to Captain largely on the basis of his wife's successes in America. He volunteered for the program as a way to regain favour once his duplicity was revealed - casting doubt on his wife's loyalty."

"No doubt that embarrassed many people, including our Agencies President, Herr Wüst." Luthor remembered the praise Wüst had lavished on the Baroness, how he had brought her to the meeting in Berlin and then onto his facility, sharing the Projects secrets with her.

"How was August manipulating his wife?" Luthor asked.

"The details are numerous." Eve Teschmacher replied. "But in short he held his own child captive, a daughter Gerta – threatened her safety, to ensure his wife's cooperation."

Luthor smiled. Teschmacher understood the value of brevity – of distilling the matter to the essential facts. "Excellent a sociopath, one able to manipulate another powerful personality to do his bidding - how interesting." He said as left the Baron's bedside, Eve followed him through the double swing doors into a second ward, which had been refitted as a laboratory. The strange marriage of industrial plumbing joined to the reptilian's living machinery was repeated left and right in ordered rows. Each example was an artificial womb that served as the Annunki maturation chamber, all had rapidly advanced the simple ball of cloned cells from embryo to baby in days rather than months, enabling Luthor to more quickly test the value of each adult donor to his program using the artificial twin the tanks created.

The Annunki with whom Luthor had developed a working relationship hovered over the silver mecurial machinery of one the right hand vats, Solateedoh was watching the dials intently.

"The foetus?" Luthor asked.

"It continues to thrive." The reptillian replied.

Luthor peered through the glass port into the pinkish liquid within. "The mutations have stabilised?"

The Annunki hissed the races affirmative. Luthor smiled. "Are you certain?"

Head feathers fluttered. "I am Luthor." Solateedoh sang. "I have pushed the maturation cycle to it's limits – and then beyond them. This infant should have perished, however each time it has recovered."

Luthor picked up the chart attached to the Maturation Tank. It read Baron August Von Gunther – clone 001. That in itself was remarkable. Most cloned embryo's failed, yet here the first attempt had succeeded. He tapped the typed reference with his finger, laughing quietly. "There is something unique in this subjects genetic make up. I think we should investigate the Von Gunthers further Miss Teschmacher." Luthor said, looking to his aide. "The wife remains active in the SD Sir." She said. "Since they are cousins she may share his uniqueness."

"As would their offspring." The Annunki stated.

Luthor looked at each of the other tanks in the ward each chart had been stamped not viable. Each had been a clone of a potential test subject. Of the men who had volunteered, only August Von Gunther's twin appeared able to withstand the process.

"It is regrettable but it is as I feared, the failure rate is very high." Luthor remembered the animal tests that had been carried out at Ultra Humanite's secret laboratory as they had searched in vain to duplicate Superman's powers, however stung by his rival's in Project Ahnenerbe SS successes, Luthor had revived this line of research, seeking a faster route to an Ubermesch soldier than even the accelerated growth the Annunki Maturation tanks afforded. An answer to Willigut's Wotan.

Solahteedoh hissed. "Had I not assisted you with our maturation technology it would not have been the clones of these test subjects that would have been killed, but the the test subjects themselves."

"Which was Willigut's problem." Luthor growled. "Until he hit lucky with Bastion; and still he complains that it is unfair that I have the first choice of Volunteers!"

"He could use prisoners." Solahteedoh observed.

Luthor laughed. "And create a superhuman undesirable? Never."

"Humans." Hissed Solahteedoh. Luthor suspected he thought them all equally undeserving, and of course he was right, but that was not the opinion of the Third Reich.

"Yet we have come far further than the Ultra Humanite." Luthor said. "We have a serum that mimics the American Superman's abilities, albeit this appears to only work with one test subject in particular."

"Even that is yet to be established." Solahteedoh snapped. "The adult human may react differently to the infant, and long term viability is unknown - as is the extent of the adult's abilities. I maintain that our clones of the American Superman are far more likely to be his equal."

"True." Luthor conceded. "But they are still months from maturity, and Willigut's Wotan is already here."

The head feathers of the Annunki vibrated. "Human politics!" Luthor knew the creature was laughing.

The reptilian continued. "I recommend we evacuate the clone from the tank now and run a battery of tests." The Annunki scientist suggested.

"Agreed." Lex said. "There is little point in letting it mature further. As a basis for comparison I will administer the serum to the adult test subject." Luthor said, turning to leave the reptilian to his work. Teschmacher followed him dutifully.

Luthor began the first of the series of injections that would begin the transformation of August Von Gunther.

"Let our Director Wüst know we may have identified a suitable subject for Colonel Willigut." He told her.

Eve looked at him questioningly.

"Give the Occultist the Von Gunther's wife, that should stop his whining about a lack of suitable Aryan test subjects – it strikes me she is the weak link in this family, but bring me their child – Gerta. She may prove useful."

-'S'-

Lois Lane looked at the American Passport in her hand, she hoped that their citizenship would be enough to see them released from custody. She watched Clark wordlessly pass his to the military police Captain, who shone his torch on the documents.

Lastly Mary Jayne Gold approached the officer. She lent close to him, and the two of them retired to engage in a private conversation, slipping into the dark shadows under a schooner.

Clark stood stoically beside Lois, but even in the partial light of the moon, Lois saw his face was becoming sterner moment by moment. Presently Gold returned to them,

"Let's go." Mary Jayne said. She quickly pushed their passports back in Lois's hand. She returned her papers to her purse, gave Clark his.

"You bribed the gendarmes?" Clark asked. No Lois thought, it was more a statement of fact masquerading as a question.

"We are free to go." Mary Jayne replied. Lois decided this amounted to a confirmation that money had changed hands.

"Thanks Mary Jayne." She said. Lois did not care if Clark was angry at the idea of the police accepting a bribe, she was just glad to be leaving their custody. It had already been a long night, and she needed coffee.

"What is going to happen to Raymond Courard?" Kent asked.

Mary Jayne looked uncertain. "He will have to answer to a military tribunal, I can't change that, he'll have to spend time in For Saint Nicolas."

Lois knew that to be the castle that overlooked the harbour of Marseilles.

"But they will hopefully treat him well, we're a long way from Paris." Mary Jayne said optimistically.

Later at Gold's rented house, she waited for Mary Jayne to join her in the kitchen.

It was here over coffee that Mary Jayne Gold explained her ideas to Lois.

"The Nazi regime is both oppressive and racist; the Vichy French Government is just a puppet of the Third Reich. People are afraid and they are hurting."

Lois could only agree. "There are so many refugees here in Marseilles."

Mary Jayne nodded. "And many more are here but in hiding, because they are Jewish, or have the wrong politics, these poor people are fearful for their liberty even their lives."

"You want to do something about this?" Lois asked her.

"You betcha lady I do." Mary Jayne said. "I'm thinking a latter day underground railway - freeing those who won't bow the knee to this self appointed Master Race."

Mary Jayne Gold found a natural ally in Lois Lane as they discussed Gold's idea.

-'S-

Clark Kent found it easy to excuse himself, ostensibly to explore the city and surrounding area, but practically to step into his Superman persona – to maintain a presence.

Superman rose over the French port of Marseilles, travelling north, he wished for the strength he had previously enjoyed, but he found the reality of war far more troubling than his inconsistent powers. His heart bled as he saw the oceans blue waters stained black with the poisonous slicks of spilled oil and broken lives. Crossing the Atlantic took time, but time he did not waste. Superman became the Sentinel of the Seas, plucking the wounded and lost from the water whenever he was able, but so vast was the ocean that he could not hope to intervene in every case, truthfully there was only so much even Superman could do – certainly if he was to keep his promise to FDR, to remain neutral – or at least unseen.

Superman was reminded of his days in Kansas, when he was the legendary invisible angel of the dust bowl. Where he could help democracies forces without being observed he did so, much like his President.

Then there was the battle over Britain.

Superman watched this conflict rage over the English channel, as war came to the skies of London and the home counties of the south of England, and it was becoming a brutal business.

Flying through the war zone Superman was not so much aware of his weakness but of his limitations, even Superman had only one pair of hands, and here still tied by neutrality. His palms itched for action, but he was aware how close he had come to death when he had overstepped his orders; when Wotan had come so close to finishing him.

Staring at the fabled white Cliffs of Dover, he scanned the coastline, and saw in the periphery of his vision the strange signature of microwave radiation.

Watching the approaching aircraft he saw waves distort, rebounding back to shore, back to tall receivers. Suddenly this pattern made sense, the British were detecting the invading planes, and responding to them, directing their air power where it was needed, making the most of their numbers, and hitting the enemy harder as a result.

If the Nazi's knew of this defensive technology they clearly did not understand it's effectiveness. They were ignoring the broadcast and reception antenna.

Above him the machine guns of Hawker Hurricane barked, the workhorse of the Royal Air Force, turned hard it's pilot chasing the faster climbing Luftwaffe's Messerschmitt 109, he tucked around turning sharply trying to get a good angle on the opposing fighter. A second Luftwaffe's plane bore down on the Brit, Superman forgetting his neutrality in that moment, equalled the odds in a flash of blue and red he punched the engine of the German fighter, the 109 lost power - it was out of the fight.

-'S'-

Winston Churchill sat in his office, it was the first business of the day, with him was the head of Secret Intelligence Service – SIS, Major General Stewart Menzies. The spy chief had delivered a buff coloured locked box to the Prime Minister, personally – as was often the case. Churchill extended his key and opened the locked vintage box marked with VRI from Victoria's reign. Number 10 Downing Street's staff were baffled by these mysterious deliveries, but to Churchill these were his "golden eggs".

Every morning he reviewed the intelligence reports, devouring the details of the transcripts of the intercepted coded Nazi orders, broken by the boffins of Bletchley Park's code breaking lab and sent directly to the Prime Minister.

Churchill shifted the papers. "I see there is chatter about these mysterious 'foo fighters' from the Germans as well as own boys."

"Gremlins Prime Minister. They get credit too."

"But we know there are strange things in the skies C." Churchill called the head of SIS, C, sometimes Stewart, and occasionally General when he was angry.

"The Shining Knight is deployed at Buckingham Palace. We know his interception of enemy fighters and bombers directed at the King give rise to a lot of this chatter."

The PM smiled, C had understood him, the rise of the metahumans was something that interested the intelligence agencies of all the world's powers. The Shining Knight was been taken care of by SIS, who had enlisted his loyalty to King and Country while helping him adapt to modern life.

"If only we had more like him." Churchill lamented. Privately wondering what untapped abilities existed in his people, and their allies.

"We may have help." Menzies suggested. "There is activity over the channel of another kind – red and blue kind."

"I'm sure Superman would do more if he could." The PM drank a glass of water with a splash of whisky, his usual tipple.

"Rooselvelt can't be seen to risk breaking the Neutrality Act, certainly not before November's election." Menzies agreed. "Superman is a too high profile, even if he remains a legendary figure to many Americans - the symbolic effect of his public involvement could impact Roosevelt's chances of another term."

Churchill could only agree with C's conclusion. "However isolated our position is at this time, however frustrated this makes feel, however unfair this fight, we must remember Roosevelt is our best friend, a different President might not be.

"Which means we must put on a good show for the President's man – his legs - Bill Donovan." The PM directed. "We must give him the full red carpet welcome when he arrives today, impress him of our will and resolution, put flight to the nonsense that we are out of the fight."

"Of course Prime Minister."
"And tell Sir Justin to watch out for our red and blue friend, lest that assassin Wotan tries to kill him again, perhaps together they can achieve what one alone cannot."

-'S'-

Baroness Paula von Gunther wanted to struggle against the bands that held her, but she could not, against the hardness of the metal frame they held her immobile. The leather straps had been pulled tight in a binding series from head to toe.

Willigut a grey demon in the light and shadows of the flickering apparatus hovered at the periphery of her vision, haunting her. Walther Wüst, President of the Research Institute of the Ahnenerbe SS in his black uniform stared at at her directly, his eyes stern taunting her. Wüst looked up at her near crucifixion bound as she was to Willigut's unearthly apparatus.

"Do you regret volunteering for these experiments Baroness?" Wüst asked her

Paula wanted to cry – she wanted to laugh; volunteer! What choice had she? Her thoughts became a torrent of self hate and loathing.

A bead of sweat ran from her forehead.

Wüst continued to taunt, his voice ran flat controlled, he was deliberate. It was as if her answer did not matter to him.

"I regret nothing. I am glad to work for Fatherland."

Wüst laughed. "Come Come Baroness your real agenda is known to me – the SS knows these things. I know about Gerta. I know how the Baron used your daughter to.. shall I say... persuade you to embrace espionage on his behalf."

Paula tensed the SS knew her secret, her shame, but she replied with determination. "I work for the Fatherland!" Anything less than unwaveringly loyalty was a death sentence for her, and for her darling Gerta, August was a monster who she did not doubt, not for a moment, he would kill Gerta if she failed him.

"Austrian nobility? More a puffed up arrogant whore - you are your husbands puppet!" Wüst shouted back, his spittle landed on her face.

"He married me for my title." Paula spat. "For position, power!" Through clenched teeth she hissed, she was discovered, exposed, her shame laid bare, seduced by her cousin, a manipulator extraordinary, she years his junior, a slip of girl her head turned, self consumed, believing in the fairy tale of romantic love, love August could so easily mimic, but never feel for anyone but himself. First pregnancy, the need to wed quickly, and the contract sealed, only then did she glimpse the darkness in the heart of her lover; by then it was too late, she was trapped.

Coldly Wüst said. "The Baron has Gerta, he has her hidden from you, and so you whore yourself for his advancement."

Tears began to well in her eyes. "Damn you."

"I know why you agreed to this Paula." Wüst told her. "You imagined yourself empowered with Wotan's abilities didn't you?

"You imagined yourself taking back your daughter and probably executing some painful revenge upon your husband. Perhaps even returning to America?"

Paula looked away from the black skulls head uniform. She heard the SS Colonel bark. "Lord Wotan!"

Unwillingly as terror consumed her she saw the creature crackle into existence, returning to the place of his birth. Wotan looked past the man who had summoned him, not acknowledging Wüst, but instead the green skinned sorcerer's dark eyes stared into hers.

Raising his hand the Dark god released his tongue. "Spirits of the battlefield, maids of bloodshed, angels of Valhalla heed my call once more, come forth from the land East of the Sun, and West of the Moon, come to my call angels of Wotan, come to your god, let your vengeance unite, let your rage take form, clothe yourself in flesh be as one soul, one spirit – come my Valkyrie!"

Beyond the hidden chamber high in the air above the triangular castle blue skies darken, as with lightening and crashing thunder the Valkyrie horde descends. Summoned by Wotan's call, a frothing smoking cloud of insubstantial shades forms, crackling with writhing electrical snakes.

A banshee wail falls upon Castle Wewelsburg blowing through the building as an unnatural wind. The torment of swirling cloud becomes a single twisting tornado, the faces and forms of the ghosts within wound into individual threads, spun together into a single cord as the wind turns, cracking like a ghostly whip into the heart of Castle, snapping to the centre, to where Paula Von Gunther hangs, like Leonardo da Vinci's Vitruvian Man, the mystical energy pours into her body which strains against it bindings as if shocked by electricity, twitching as the silver cord spun by the storm works it way inside of her.

Then silence.

Paula stirs, her mind races, filled with a thousand voices, with their memories of war, of battlefields stretching across the ages. She is lost among them, she falls among the slain, lies in the bloody mud among the corpses. A lone voice in her own mind, a lost soul wandering among the dead, from the sands of Sumer, by the armies of Alexander, and Genghis Kahn on through the trenches of the Great War, Paula wanders searching for something, someone, always searching.

Her body burns enveloped but not consumed by arcing electrical fire. From this confluence a single ghost emerges.

A woman with her face, her features, her beauty; but her hair is like silver fire, her clothes are an armour that sparks red like a hot coal. She snaps the straps that hold her like they are paper. About her wrists are black vambraces, a bodice of coal black steel grips her feminine shape. She bows her knee. "My Lord Wotan, your Dark Angel Valkyrie is forever your servant."

-'S'-