The stolen truck pulls to the gate of the fence surrounding the Aztec temple. Mario sits in the driver's seat, draped in a stolen uniform. A guard barks something at him in German and he nods nervously. He pulls out an ID showing someone else's face and the guard snatches it. He glances at the ID and at Mario a few times before shrugging and handing it back to Mario. He opens the gate and Mario drives on in.
"Not the brightest fascists, are they?" Jorge says as the truck pulls to a stop behind a tent.
"Be quiet, we do not want to wake our enemies up," Mario says.
The duo walk around to the back of the truck and pull away part of the tarp. Dio climbs out, helped down by Mario. "I spotted an armory as we drove in," Dio says. "Zeppeli, go to the armory and grab as many explosives as you can carry, then hide them around the camp."
"Understood," Mario says.
"Jorge, you and I are going to sneak into the brick building in the center of camp, what I assume to be the main office. I want to know what about this temple attracted the Nazis, and what about it caused so many deaths."
"Sounds good to me," Jorge says.
Mario swings away using his Stand and Jorge and Dio sneak through the camp, ducking between tents and hiding in shadows from peering guards. The two of them arrive at a large building in the center of the camp. Jorge taps it with his fingers. "This is brick," he says. "Whatever they keep in here, it's important enough for them to put time and care into their construction."
Jorge summons his Stand, Black Ice, who places its hand on the wall. The Stand concentrates and channels cold into the bricks. Small pockets of moisture within the bricks freeze and expand, cracking the wall. Black Ice precisely strikes these cracks with its icicle claws. A hole forms in the weakened wall.
Dio Brando stands on the other side of the wall, arms crossed. "How'd you get in here?" Jorge whispers as he steps into the building.
Dio glances at an open window beside the hole. "Oh, that would have probably been an easier way in," Jorge says. He turns around and fills the hole back up with ice, partially hiding his clumsy breakin.
The duo are standing in an office containing a large desk and filing cabinets. Jorge picks up a nameplate sitting on the desk. "Major Rudol von Stroheim," he reads. "Guess that's the guy in charge."
Dio pulls open a filing cabinet and begins flipping through the files. "Interesting," he says.
"What?"
"All of the reports written by German soldiers are in German," he says dryly before closing the filing cabinet.
The duo exit the office and sneak through the deserted building, glancing in rooms full of filing cabinets and medical instruments. "Things aren't adding up," Dio says.
"What do you mean?"
"All of those bodies in the desert were prisoners at one point in time. I assumed they would be kept in this building, because it is the only one sturdy enough to contain a large number of people, but these offices are spotless."
Dio furrows his brow and thinks for a moment. An idea pops into his head and he walks down the hallway, tapping on the floor with his cane. "You okay, old man?" Jorge asks.
"Listen to this," Dio says. He taps on one part of the floor and it makes a dull noise. He then steps to the side and taps a different part of the floor. It makes a different, echoing noise. "There's a secret basement."
Jorge cracks his knuckles. "Wanna bust our way in?" he asks.
"No, I don't. That would draw unwanted attention," Dio replies.
Dio glances in the window of one of the offices and smiles. He pushes open the door and walks over to a filing cabinet. "Look at this," he says, pointing at the ground in front of the cabinet with his cane.
Jorge leans down. The ground next to the other filing cabinets is covered in dust, but the ground in front of the cabinet Dio points out is clear. "The dust is different," he says.
Dio pulls open the bottom compartment with his cane and hears a slight click. The cabinet sinks into the wall, revealing a ladder going stretching deep into the earth
Jorge jumps down and looks around. The large basement is covered in sterile white surfaces and illuminated by fluorescent ceiling lights. There's a single guard, asleep at his desk; Jorge covers his mouth and nose with ice as he sleeps. One of the walls is covered in metal shutters. A glass chamber sits at the far end of the basement
Dio slowly climbs down the ladder, helped by his nephew. "I believe this is what we were looking for," Dio says.
Jorge walks up to the shutters and presses a button on the wall. The shutters retract into the ceiling, revealing dark cages. The smell is putrid, Jorge dares not look at what lies inside.
"Is there anyone still alive in there?" he shouts. No one responds. He presses the button again and the shutters lower.
"It seems they ran out of test subjects," Dio says.
"Yeah," Jorge says quietly.
The duo walk over to a large metal table in the center of the room. On it sits a glass case containing a stone mask. "I think that might be what they found in the temple," Jorge says.
"Perhaps," Dio says. He steps away from the table and walks over to the glass chamber connected to the far wall. Upon closer inspection, Dio notices a bloody chair and rusty chains inside the chamber, and that the chamber glass is cracked. He presses a button on the side of the chamber and blinding violet lights turn on all throughout the glass box. He covers his eyes and walks away from the chamber.
When his vision finally clears up, he sees Jorge leaning against the table. The glass case over the stone mask has been broken and the mask now covers Jorge's face. "What on earth are you doing?" he asks.
"Trying on the cool Aztec mask. I'm hoping it will let me talk to ghosts or turn invisible or something," Jorge says. "Am I invisible?"
"No, your immaturity is very easy to spot."
"And I don't see any ghosts either. I guess the mask is just a mask."
"Take that thing off, it gives me a bad feeling."
"Nah, I think I'll keep it."
Before Dio can call his nephew an imbecile, the sound of an alarm fills the camp. "That's bad," Jorge says. "You can't tell, because of the cool mask, but I'm frowning now."
"We need to get out of here, now!" Dio shouts as he runs for the ladder.
"Do you think they got Marzie?" Jorge asks.
"I don't know, but I know that things aren't good," Dio says, his Stand pulling him up the ladder.
Dio and Jorge dash out of the building and come face to face with two dozen armed soldiers standing under violet floodlights. The soldiers turn, and the sound of twenty guns cocking floods the air. "Probably should have peaked out the door before running out," Jorge says, putting his hands over his head.
"Yes, that would have been wise," Dio replies.
"Think we can take them?"
"A few of them, yes, but not all of them."
"Okay, cool. Been nice knowing you. You can't tell, because of the cool mask, but I'm frowning right now."
"Hush, Dio says. He clears his throat. "Do any of you speak English? I would like to speak with my executioner before I perish."
"I speak a little English, mein gefangener," a cheery voice says. Several soldiers step to the side as a tall man wearing a monocle and military uniform walks to the front of the crowd.
The man has tall blonde hair, carefully combed into a wide flat top. He sports a wide, toothy grin that unnerves Jorge. "I am Major Stroheim, commander of this unit," he says. "Who are you, and why are you in my camp dressed as my men?"
"My name is Dio Brando, this is my nephew George," Dio says.
"Is that a British accent I detect? Tell me, what is an elderly Englishman like yourself doing in Mexico?"
"What is a regiment of Nazi soldiers doing in Mexico?"
"Ah ah ah," Stroheim says, waving his finger. "I am the one with the plethora of machine guns, Mr. Brando. I'm the one in charge here."
"Keep telling yourself that," Jorge says.
Stroheim laughs. "Oh, it is refreshing to meet an Englishman who doesn't piss his pants in terror when he comes face to face with the superior firepower of the German army," he says. "Seriously though, why are you here?"
"We were summoned here by acquaintances of ours, a pair of monks," Dio says.
"Oh yes, I remember them," Stroheim says. "They were a pain in the hintern to deal with. But, deal with them I did, as I shall now do with the two of you-"
"Wait, before you kill us, can you answer a few questions for me?" Jorge shouts.
"And why would I tell you anything?"
"Come on. Evil military commander, monocle, upbeat persona, you've gotta be just dying to give a monologue about your nefarious plans," Jorge says.
Stroheim laughs. "Okay, fair enough," he says. "We are here for the glory of the fatherland. Our conquest to cleanse the world of the inferior requires us to advance our already superior German science to heights you cannot fathom. Ironically, though, our path to greatness has come from this dung heap."
"Chill with the racism for like, five seconds, and get to the point," Jorge says.
"In the temple your monk friends discovered, we found a weapon of unimaginable power. An ancient mask that allows us to turn mere men into the ubermensch!"
Dio glances at Jorge, who is still wearing the stone mask, and groans. "This mask doesn't do shit," Jorge says.
"Oh, of course you would say that," Stroheim says. "You lack the weeks of brutal testing we did on innocent civilians to understand the mask. Under the correct stimuli, that mask will give you uncomparable speed, strength, and endurance. Now then, hand it over."
"Why would I hand it over?" Jorge says, poking the mask to try and turn it on.
"The mask is not turned on by mere poking, nephew Brando," Stroheim says. "Besides, the mask cannot save you. It gives great strength, yes, but also a great weakness: those given power by the mask burn up in sunlight like ice cubes."
"Ice cubes don't burn, the melt, dumbass," Jorge says.
"Also, it is the middle of the night," Dio says.
"Yes, but have you not noticed the lights shining down on you? Ultraviolet light, the same as the sun. The mask cannot help you. You are going to die."
"No, we aren't," Jorge says. "You see, you shitty shitbag shitstain garbage fucker, there's something you haven't noticed."
"Oh? Pray tell, what is that?" Stroheim says.
"The thin wires wrapped around your arm."
Mario Zeppeli tightens his wires, wires covertly wrapped around the battalion of soldiers from the shadows as Jorge stalled for time. Severed limbs, pained screams, and geysers of blood fill the air as the wires tear the Nazis to pieces. Jorge summons his Stand, who creates a wall of ice to protect Jorge and Dio from stray bullets.
As his men fall, Stroheim stays standing. The wires, as sharp as they are, fail to cut through his arm. He yanks back, pulling Mario out from the shadows between two tents. He grabs a gun from a dead man and points it at the knocked prone Mario.
Dio kicks off the ground with his Stand, sending him flying over the wall of ice. His Stand charges forward and strikes Stroheim in the face, knocking him back and stopping him from killing Mario.
Jorge runs up as Dio helps Mario to his feet. "Good job, team, we killed the Nazis," he says.
"Not...quite," Stroheim groans from the ground, his face covered in blood. He pulls a pistol from his belt and fires it. The bullet grazes Jorge's side.
Dio's Stand punches Stroheim through the chest as Dio runs to his nephew. "Are you okay?" Mario asks.
"Just a graze," Jorge says, holding his side with his hand. "Let's get out of here."
As the three men walk out of the camp, Mario detonates the explosives, consuming the camp in a blazing fireball. "I think that went well, all things considered," Jorge says.
"George, may I ask you a question?" Dio says.
"Go ahead."
"Why on earth are you still wearing the cursed Aztec mask?"
"Because it's really cool looking. Marzie, back me up on this. The mask looks awesome, right?"
"It does look very nice, my friend," Mario says.
"Take it off and destroy it, before something bad happens," Dio says.
"Jeeze, calm down," Jorge says. He takes his hand off his side and grabs the mask. He screams as spikes burrow into his skin.
"Jorge!" Mario yells as his friend falls to his knees."
Dio's Stand rips the mask off and crushes it under its heel. Jorge's skin is pale, his pupils are vertical like those of a snake, and two fangs poke out over his lips.
"Jorge?" Mario asks, his voice wavering.
Jorge strikes Mario with newly formed claws, creating a large gash on Mario's forehead. Jorge licks his claws and runs off into the night.
"This is bad," Mario says, clutching his forehead.
"He activated the mask," Dio mutters. "He turned into the superior man Stroheim spoke of."
"No, not a superior man," Mario says, shaking his head. "I saw his eyes, those were not the kind eyes of my friend. Those were the eyes of a beast that has forsaken all humanity."
To Be Continued In
Chapter 36: Black Ice and Razor's Edge, Part 1
