The Evil Long Forgotten Chapter 1
By Christopher W. Blaine
(with technical assistance by Ms. Ley)
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DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations used in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. No profit is made from this story. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.
The staff car pulled up to the bunker, parking close to the truck that was used to bring supplies and troops into the area. The driver hurried to get out and open the rear door, allowing his passenger to step out into the snow. The passenger was clad in golden armor, a large crimson iron cross on his chest. He was a beacon of color and power in a cold, frigid nowhere.
The driver held the door until Baron Blitzkrieg was a meter away and then he fell in behind his master. The driver had been with the Baron since before the war, a loyal servant that came from a family of servants. His rank was honorary, merely something to give him some status in a country based on military order. "Warte hier draussen auf mich, Hans (Wait for me out here, Hans)," the Baron commanded.
The servant wordlessly obeyed, turning and moving back to the car. He would keep it running, the heater humming so that when his master returned; he would find a warm passenger cabin waiting for him.
The Baron stepped up to the door and the guard came to attention, thrusting an arm forward and shouting "Heil Hitler!" The Baron raised an arm in response and mumbled a response. The oath of National Socialism had lost its appeal on him.
He stepped inside the bunker into a passageway of cold, gray concrete lit by several overhead lights. The hall was bare except for several doors and some guards. These men did not bother to salute him and he was happy for it. Better these men concentrate on their mundane duties than the dying empire they represented.
He had no guide, nor did he need one. It had been several months since he had last been here, but the place still looked the same, still smelled the same. The air was stale and dead and he wished that the German scientists that had created his armor had put filters in it. The stench of incompetence was nauseating.
Years before, in the early days of the Reich, he had been an officer, a proud Prussian in the service of a visionary. Adolph Hitler had taken a country that had been beaten down by the treacherous Treaty of Versailles and made it into a juggernaut of sweet revenge. Europe trembled before the might of Germany and as an officer; he had been assign command over a camp of prisoners.
He had been an efficient manager, keeping the prison camp running using the most minimal of resources. Those incarcerated there protested as all did when subjected to the whims of their betters. One prisoner even went so far as to fling a vial of acid into his noble face.
How the prisoner had gotten the acid was never discovered because the Baron's men had cut the man down just before he had passed out from the pain. When he awoke, the surgeons under the control of Reichsfuhrer-SS Himmler proclaimed him the greatest achievement of the Third Reich. They renamed him and encased his body in golden armor. He would by a vengeful god of thunder, bringing the full might of the Aryan peoples upon an unsuspecting America. They christened him Baron Blitzkrieg.
"Ein lächerlicher Name, der gedacht um Angst zu erzeugen, aber nur Hohn provoziert hat (A ridiculous name, meant to cause fear, but instead provoked scorn)," he muttered as he moved through the passages. Several doors later he found himself standing before a large soldier holding a rifle. The Baron searched the man's eyes and noted with some satisfaction that this was not a mindless killer, but a lethal, thinking machine. The shine of innocence was still glittering in the young man's eyes; he had not been subjected to horrors of losing combat. He had never been ordered to defend a position that was not defendable. He had never been ordered to assault an allied line with no support. In truth, this young man who wished to serve his Fuehrer and country so badly would, if he were lucky, never fire his weapon in anger. The war was lost and the best anyone could hope for was to survive and father a new generation of proud Germans.
The writing had been on the wall for several months. The Baron had assumed the worst when the Bismark had been lost. That ship had been the key to controlling the shipping lanes and choking the resistance out of Britain, Germany's greatest foe. Even Hitler, never a navy man, understood that without that mighty vessel, Britain would never submit. Launch all of the air attacks you wished, it didn't matter, for the English would valiantly stand up and shake their fists. Cut them off from the sea and they would whither and die. Britain was an island nation, forever tied to the waters that surrounded her. The advantage was now gone, sunk to the bottom of the Atlantic.
The loss of the Bismark was not the only nail in the coffin for the cause. Hitler's two-front war had drained the Reich of its youth and even now the fuehrer was conscripting old men and children to fight a war that should never had been. Hitler's genius was in his ability to read the political scene; to understand just how far one could go before war would be declared.
Germany had, at least a few years before, the potential to become the world power, even overshadowing the liberal Americans. The Baron sighed as he realized that like so many of his countrymen, he too had been caught up in the euphoria that the early victories had brought with them. Even he had been loyal, raising his hand in salute to the man who had promised to right the wrongs of the Treaty of Versailles.
He passed by the soldier and put the young man out of his mind, entering into a brightly lit anteroom. There were two doors, one leading to the special laboratory where the experiment would take place and the other to the private room of the soldier who had volunteered. The Baron went to the second door and knocked; something he normally did not do.
"Herein (Enter)," a voice called from inside. The Baron turned the knob and went in. The room was decorated with many family heirlooms and treasures and he was filled with a slight sense of nostalgia. He missed his family's ancestral home for it had been destroyed in an allied bombing raid, but he was pleased to see how much had survived. "Wilkommen, Vetter (Welcome, cousin)," the voice said with delight.
The Baron turned to regard his relation. The man was as tall as him, though half his age with a full head of blond hair offset by cool blue eyes. He was clad only in his shorts and his well-muscled features glistened with sweat. Here was the perfect German as Himmler had touted. The Baron always found it strange the way Himmler and Hitler both spoke of great virtues that neither possessed. "Ich sehe, dass Du immer noch gerne boxt (I see that you still like to box)," the Baron remarked, indicating the punching bag that was still swinging from use.
The man smiled, his perfect teeth glistening in the light. "Es ist meine Pflicht asl Deutscher Soldat in hervcorragender Physischer Verfassung zu bleiben. Vielleicht hast Du Lust Deine metallene Haut abzulegen und einen Kampf mit mir zu wagen (It is my duty as a German soldier to remain in peak physical condition. Perhaps you would like to shed that metal skin and join me in a match)?" It was an honest invitation, but the Baron refused with a wave of his hand. He slowly walked around the wooden bookcases, examining several volumes. He reached for one weathered tome and pulled it down. It was a three hundred year old book, written in Latin. It had been a favorite of his as a child.
Here in this small room was what was left of his family fortune. Not the wealth that bankers counted but the wealth of tradition and history. This war, this pursuit of something greater than himself, had cost him nearly everything that had defined him before his accident. He was tired of ceremony, hand raising and shouting to a leader that was no longer fit to lead. "Du scheinst besorgt, Vetter (You seem troubled, cousin)."
"Sage mir, Heinrich (Tell me, Heinrich)," the Baron started as he put the book back up, "was denkst Du über das was heute Nacht geschehen wird (what are your thoughts about what is to happen this night)?"
Heinrich straightened and reached for his undershirt. "Ich werde die größte Waffe dieses Reiches (I will become the greatest weapon of the Reich)." He paused and then let a wry grin cross his face. "Ausser Dir natuerlich (Except for you, of course)."
"Beschaeme mich nicht, wir sind Familie, kein Grund fuer falsche Komplimente (Do not flatter me; we are family, there are no pretenses here)," the Baron said as he stepped up to his dressing relative. He reached down and ran a thumb over the decorations that adorned Heinrich's black uniform shirt. "Glaubst Du wirklich, das was auch immer Du heute nacht tun wirst, das was Geschehen wird aendert (Do you really believe that anything that you do tonight will change the events about to unfold)?"
The younger man accepted the shirt and put it on, smoothing it out before he grabbed the trousers. "Es scheint Du hast etwas schweres auf dem Herzen, also lass uns als Familie miteinander reden (It would seem that something weighs heavily upon your mind, so let us speak as family)." He leaned in close and added, "Ich kenne die Reihenfolge meiner Loyalitaeten, Vetter (I know the order of my loyalties, cousin)."
The Baron moved across the room and checked that the door was locked. Slowly, he turned to face his cousin, who was now putting on the high boots. "Der Krieg ist verloren. Deutschland wird entweder erdrückt von den Bolschevisken, eine Puppen-Regierung der Alliierten , oder schlimmer noch, geteilt in beides. Hitler steht am Rande des Wahnsinns; jeden Tag werden die Auswirkungen von Angst und Verwirrung deutlicher (The war is lost. Germany will be either squashed under the Bolsheviks, a puppet government of the allies or worse, split into both. Hitler is on the brink of madness; each day the quakes of fear and confusion become more apparent)." The disgust he felt at the confession outweighed any lingering thoughts of loyalty to the fuehrer.
"Ich muss dich warnen, Baron, dass ich ein Offizier der Gestapo, der Geheimen Staatspolizei (I must warn you, Baron, that I am an officer in the Gestapo, the Geheime Staats Polizei)…"
"Erinnere dich an deine Loyalitäten, Vetter (Remember your loyalties, cousin)," the Baron growled. "Ich spreche nicht davon das Vaterland zu verlassen, aber Dir muss klarwerden, dass es erledigt ist (I am not advocating deserting the Fatherland, but you have to be made to see that it is done for now)."
"Herr Himmler denkt anders. Er glaubt, dass ich der Speer sein werde, der das Herz der Juden-Freunde in England und Amerika durchstößt (Herr Himmler thinks otherwise. He believes that I can be the spear point that pierces the heart of the Jew-lovers in America and Britain)!" He shook his head and reached for his pistol belt. "Deine Bemühungen haben den Weg dafür bereitet, Vetter! Durch dich haben wir das Wissen über die Fähigkeiten der Alliierten Supermänner (Your efforts have paved the way for this, cousin! Through you we have gained knowledge of the abilities of the allied supermen)!"
"Himmler ist ein Arsch! Ein Schullehrer der versucht sich in die Angelegenheiten seiner Herren zu mischen! (Himmler is an ass! A schoolteacher trying to involve himself in the matters of his betters!)" The Baron took a deep breath; he had to convince his cousin of the merits of his argument. "Die Prinzipien des Dritten Reiches koennen immer noch ueberleben! Macht durch Zucht und Abstammung; Macht durch Taktik und Timing! Rassenreinheit, Loyalitaet, fealty (The principles of the Third Reich can still live on! Power through breeding and ancestry; power through tactics and timing! Racial purity, loyalty, fealty)…"
"Und Du glaubst, das Du die Person bist, die Deutschland in diesen Kampf fuehren kann, Vetter (And you believe that you are the person to lead Germany in this battle, cousin)?"
"Warum sich mit einem Reich abgeben, wenn Du die ganze Welt beherrschen kannst (Why settle for a an empire when you can rule the world)?"
Heinrich paused as he buckled his belt and he looked long and hard at the man in the golden armor. Behind that mask was a man whom he used to look up to as a child. He remembered the handsome face and the long nights of political and intellectual debate with other family members. He had thought the Baron a most intelligent man and that still held true.
It had been the Baron who had convinced Heinrich to volunteer for the Atoman Project once he had heard about it. It had been the Baron who had gone to Himmler personally to request, no demand, that Heinrich be the first of the new German super-soldiers. Now he knew why. "Du sprichst von Verrat (You speak treason)."
"Ich spreche die Wahrheit (I speak the truth)," the Baron replied as he looked over a framed photograph of Hitler. There was the impassive face, a face devoid of emotion, the true image of their leader. Luckily, he had found someone new to inspire him.
He had not gone looking for a new fuehrer, but one had found him. A man who had the ability to radiate cold, silent power. A man who was able to inspire by his voice and not his words. A man who did not blame a single group of people for the woes of the nobility, but acknowledged that it was the powerful that had allowed the world to degenerate to the point it was at now.
If there was going to be change, it required a cleansing and only the strongest would be able to survive it. "Sage mir, Heinrich, was planst Du, sollte das Experiment erfolreich verlaufen (Tell me, Heinrich, what you plan to do if the experiment is successful)?"
"Mir wurde gesagt, das ich so maechtig wie die Green Lantern werde, vielleicht sogar staerker! Ohne ihre Helden wird Amerika fallen (I have been told I will be as powerful as the Green Lantern, stronger perhaps! Without their heroes, the Americans will fall)!" Heinrich straightened the swastika band on his arm. "Ihr Kampfgeist wird sterben (Their will to fight will be lost)."
"Herr im Himmel rette mich vor Narren! Du glaubst doch nicht wirklich diesen Unsinn den Goring verbreitet? Wie viele Alliierte Supermänner hast Du in Europa gesehen, Heinrich (God in Heaven save me from fools! You can't believe that rubbish Goring is sputtering! How many allied supermen have you seen in Europe, Heinrich)?" The young SS officer looked troubled as he searched his memory. It was true; not since America had entered the war had a single allied costumed adventurer dared to come to the front lines. He could not know, but the Baron did, that Adolph Hitler and the Japanese Dragon King had used mystical items to create a barrier around their conquered lands that would make any "metahuman" their slave. Immediately after Pearl Harbor, the members of the Justice Society had found this out firsthand. "Ich habe die Amerikaner bekaempft, die Kostuemierten und die Uniformierten. Wir wurden geschlagen durch Mut und (I have fought the Americans, both the costumed ones and the ones in uniform. We are being beaten because of bravery and)…"
"Was? Bessere Taktik, Vetter (What? Better tactics, cousin)?" Heinrich said, not wanting to listen. The Baron knew that this would be difficult. Heinrich had always believed in the power of National Socialism, had always believed in the dreams of the new Aryan brotherhood. He had been raised listening not just to debates, but also to the sufferings of the peasantry as Germany was looted and raped by the victors of World War 1. The allies had left Germany devastated and then laughed about it, allowing the feelings of hatred to fester.
"Abnutzung, Vetter, wir haben einfach nicht das Arbeitspotential um die Welle der Alliierten zu vernichten, die auf Berlin zurollt (Attrition, cousin; we simply do not have the manpower to defeat the wave of allies approaching Berlin)," the Baron said. He moved across the room, pacing as he spoke. It was a habit from his college days when he and his wealthy friends would debate the merits of the feudal system. "Wir haben keine Superwaffen. Die V-2 funktioniert nicht so, wie wir hofften, die Amerikaner werden bald die Atombombe haben, die wir gerne haetten (We have no super weapons. The V-2 does not work the way we had hoped, the Americans will soon have the atomic bomb we coveted)…" He stopped, noting that Heinrich was now starting to nod. It wasn't an agreement to join, but simply an indication that he was listening and not just humoring his cousin.
"Ich höre deine Worte, und sie beruehren mein Herz, aber ich glaube an das Reich (I hear your words, and they stir my heart, but I must believe in the Reich)." Heinrich looked over into the mirror and adjusted his hair. "Ich habe dem Fuehrer einen Eid geschworen (I swore an oath to the fuehrer)."
"Wie ich auch, aber ein Eid geschworen in Not ist kein wahrer Eid. Es gibt Andere, die deiner Ergebenheit wuerdiger sind (As did I, but an oath made in haste is not a true oath. There are others more worthy of our allegiance)." The Baron threw another glance at the photograph of the leader of Germany. He was now severing his ties to the old world.
"Wer (Who)? Roosevelt? Stalin?"
"Ra's Al Ghul."
Heinrich visibly blanched at the Arabic name. Like many of the aristocracy, he was fluent in several languages. "'Der Kopf des Daemons'? Du willst einem Kult beitreten, Vetter? Du bist ein teutonischer Ritter ('The Head of the Demon'? You wish to join a cult, cousin? You are Teutonic Knight)!"
"Das sind nicht die verdammten Kreuzzuege! Wir sprechen über das Ueberleben einer Art zu Leben (These are not the damn Crusades! We are talking about the survival of a way of life)!" The Baron clenched his fists. "Du und ich sind uns sehr aehnlich, Heinrich! Du bist meine Familie, wir sind Nachkommen der Juenger von Christus persoenlich (You and I are so much alike, Heinrich! You are my family; we are descended from the Disciples of Christ himself)." It was a myth propagated by the nobility of Europe for centuries. The humorous part was that the wealthy were the only ones who believed it.
Heinrich slowly headed to the door. The Baron could tell he was thinking of something. "Unsere Unterhaltung bleibt unter uns, Vetter. Aber Herr Himmler hat ueberall Spione (Our conversation remains with us, cousin; but Herr Himmler has spies everywhere)."
"Ueberdenke meine Worte, Heinrich (Consider my words, Heinrich)," the Baron pleaded.
Heinrich nodded and then turned, threw out his arm and cried out. "Heil Hitler! Lang lebe das Vaterland (Hiel Hitler! Long live the Fatherland)!"
The Baron returned the salute. "Lang lebe das Vaterland (Long live the Fatherland)," he said quietly. The omission of the tribute to the fuehrer was not lost on the young officer. He turned and exited the room, leaving Baron Blitzkrieg alone with his thoughts and memories.