Chapter Summary: Karl is banished from the factory following an incident that led to the creation of his iconic rumbling baritone.

X

1945

"Kaaaaaaaarrrlllll you fucking rat bastard!"

Jesus Christ, here we go again, Karl thought to himself as he heard his brother's voice ring out through the factory. He lifted himself away from the furnaces and watched with trepidation as his brother came flying at him with a long metal pole in his hands. His brother hadn't set foot in the factory for over fifteen years. Of course, he'd only set foot in it again to beat Karl's head in with a metal pole.

He had no time to even wonder what he had done wrong before sticking his hands out and grabbing the pole right as his brother swung it at him. Ken was high as the sky and drunk as all hell judging by the red in his eyes and his sweaty pallor. The two men struggled against each other as the factory workers happily stopped what they were doing to watch. There was an awkward silence in the room punctuated by the two brothers' grunting as they pushed back and forth against each other, the pole wedged precariously between them. Already fatigued by his brother's bullshit, Karl grasped the pole tighter and yanked it away from Ken. The sturdy metal suddenly grew heated in his hands as it bent in half. For a moment, both brothers simply stared down at it in shock. Karl was strong, but certainly not strong enough to bend pure metal. It must have been a trick of the light, or maybe the metal had already been bent before he had even touched it. Ken gave him a sudden shove in the chest and the pole went spinning out of Karl's hands. Karl wiped the spit away from his chin and then crooked his pinky finger at Ken. It was a rather rude gesture in the village that colloquially translated to: go shove your pinky in your asshole and give it a little twist. Seeing this, Ken gave an ugly snort and hocked up a ball of yellow phlegm between Karl's boots.

"I'm gonna give you three seconds," Ken said between breaths as he stared at Karl. "Only three seconds to turn around, take your pants off and bend over. I swear to God, Karl, I'm going to shove my foot so far up your ass that you'll be choking on my toenails for weeks-"

"You gotta fixation with my ass or what?" Karl asked. "You want me to bend over so you can go ahead and kiss it, too?"

Ken gave a roar as he barreled at Karl. Several factory workers were quick to jump aside as Ken slammed Karl against the lip of one of the furnaces. The smell of hair being singed filled the air and Karl glanced back fearfully as Ken held on tight to his shirt. He had no idea what had caused Ken's wrath, nor how far the man would go to teach him a lesson. All he knew was that he'd have to get away from the furnace quickly lest Ken decided to suddenly shove his head in it. He swung his leg back and then kicked Ken square in the balls. The other man gave a high-pitched howl and quickly relinquished his hold on Karl in favor of cradling his aching sack. Karl stood there panting as he watched Ken stumbling around in circles and cursing his name.

"What the hell do you want, anyway?" He asked and Ken yanked his head up to glare at him.

"Told you to keep your eyes off what you can't handle," Ken spat. "My mistake for not extending the same courtesy to your fucking dick-"

"Whoa," Karl said as he put his hands out. "Hold on. Now you have a fixation with my dick, too?"

"Keep dreaming, you low-down pansy faggot. Don't think for a second that just because you rutted my girl you're suddenly tough shit."

Karl's mouth fell open around a soundless 'oh.' Of course. How could he forget? There was possibly no greater transgression between two brothers than sleeping with the other's woman. It was a cruel sort of trade-off, he figured. Karl knew that Ken had probably had sex with Marianne hundreds of times, despite his obvious disdain for people of her coloring. And though Karl was somewhat ashamed to admit it, Marianne was the closest thing he had to a girl of his own.

Except now she was gone. He hadn't seen her in over a year. Perhaps she had made it to America, or perhaps she had died trying. The latter was the most probable, seeing as how she had never been the strongest amongst them.

"Not my fault that she couldn't resist," Karl lied, knowing damn well that Mihaela had only fucked him out of pity. "Must be my lovely voice. They say I have Lucifer's tongue, anyway…good for more than just spelling out words, according to her."

Ken lifted a hand from between his thighs and pointed at him. "I'm gonna cut your dick off," he warned and Karl laughed.

"What? So you can mount it on a wall and suck on it whenever you please?"

"Fucking fag! I swear, I'll kill you - I'll fucking stomp your brains out-"

Karl curled into a defensive posture as Ken ducked down. The latter would have speared him straight into the fire had not a sudden familiar voice caused them both to look up. The workers hurriedly resumed their work as Jebediah Heisenberg stared down at them from atop the grand staircase leading to the furnace room. Both brothers watched in cowed silence as the man took the steps slowly, one by one, his eyes never leaving Ken's face. Finally, he reached the bottom of the staircase and stood with his hand braced heavily upon the rail and quivering with the exertion. His skin was so devoid of color that Karl knew, then, that the man would probably not live to see another day.

"James 1:26," he said in greeting to Karl. Karl ducked his head in embarrassment, feeling the heat of Ken's triumphant smile all along his neck.

"Those who consider themselves religious and yet do not keep a tight rein on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless," Karl muttered to the ground and Jebediah nodded tiredly. Then, he turned to Ken and opened his arms wide. Ken failed miserably at hiding his smile as he embraced his father for the first time in a long time.

"Divine intervention has brought you here today, my son," Jebediah said as he pulled back and clapped Ken proudly upon the shoulder. "Fifteen years, and you choose to return right as I considered calling you. Your timing is impeccable, boy."

"As is yours, papa," Ken said in a voice that was so obviously filled with deceptive loving that Karl wanted to pull his brother to the ground and shove his knee down his throat. "I was just about to teach your other son here an important lesson. Do I have your gracious permission to box his teeth in?"

Jebediah nodded again. "Yes, yes. But make it quick. I have something important to discuss with the both of you."

"Right, right."

Before Karl could stop him, Ken rushed at him again and marched him backward until his back was against the wall. The air coming from between Ken's rotted teeth was so fetid that Karl had to narrow his eyes and turn his face to the side. The sudden light glowing from beneath Ken's cheeks should have been a warning sign for what the other man was about to do. But, at the moment, Karl was too distracted by the sweltering-gut smell leaching off of Ken's tongue.

"I'm not gonna cut off your dick," Ken said as he raised a single finger towards the ceiling. Karl's eyes snapped down at the sight of blue sparks dashing back and forth across the tip of Ken's nail. Realization hit him all at once and he tried to jolt himself away from Ken's clutch. How could he have forgotten that Ken could conduct electricity at will?

"You'll probably never use it again," Ken continued slowly, watching Karl struggle with relish. The skin beneath his dingy collar began to glow a soft, phosphorescent shade of blue that set Karl's heart beating at a galloping pace. "But your voice-"

"GET OFF ME!" Karl screamed in his face. "GET THE FUCK OFF ME!"

"Ah, you see, my dear brother. Therein lies your problem: that damn, delicious voice of yours." He pressed the tip of his finger so, so gently against Karl's throat. "Always getting you into trouble. I say we do the world a favor, get rid of that voice. Papa-?"

"NO!" Karl screamed as Ken's finger turned unbearably ice cold. "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! PAPA! HELP ME, PLEASE!"

"If your brother or sister sins against you, rebuke them; and if they repent, forgive them. Even if they sin against you seven times in a day and seven times come back to you saying 'I repent,' you must forgive them," Jebediah croaked, and then. "Luke 17:3-4."

"Papa, please!" Karl cried as the workers, never pausing in their duties, watched it all unfold from the corner of their eyes. "This is not forgiveness! This is madness-"

"Tell me you love me," Ken cooed softly. "Just like I taught you. And I just might forgive you."

"For the love of God, have mercy on me-"

Ken gave a heavy sigh. "Uh-uh. Wrong answer."

"I-"

Karl's voice caught in his throat as his body began to spasm beneath a bolt of pure electricity. His eyes rolled up in his head and his teeth chattered unnervingly as every inch of his body tingled as if jabbed by a thousand needle tips. It started at his throat and spread throughout him. In reality, it only lasted a second, but his muscles seemed to pop and contract for hours. The pain grew in unbearability, searing every inch of innards with a heated, stabbing pain. White froth gathered along the corners of his lips as he choked and rocked beneath his brother's touch. But worst of all was the feeling of the cords along the inside of his throat frying and sizzling. He knew, then, that his voice would never be the same.

And then, it was over.

He crumpled to the ground before his brother's feet and put his hands to his neck, trying his best to force the air past the stinging sensation running along his throat. Muffled voices were floating around him as he coughed and hacked and wheezed against the pain. Desperately, he tried to sound out a word but his voice failed him, the stinging sensation rendering him mute as if someone had taken sandpaper and sawed it along the inner walls of his throat. Fearful desperation filled him as he tried to say something, anything to prove that he still had a voice. But nothing came, nothing but a hollow wheeze.

"Well, papa, are you satisfied?" Came Ken's distorted voice as he brushed his hands together with pride. His skin was still tinged with blue but it was quickly fading away. Karl looked up with a mouth gaping around a toneless gasp as his father nodded his head.

"Quite, yes. Come now. We have a lot to discuss. Karl, get off of the floor. It t'weren't nothing but a little shock. Come on, get up now."

"Don't disobey your father, you worthless sack of flesh," Ken grunted as he hefted Karl off the floor and dragged him bodily up the stairs. Karl couldn't help but flinch at his brother's proximity, and the heat radiating from his sweaty body. But he was still too weak and stupefied after having been electrified. All he could do was lay limp in his brother's arms and let the heels of his boots knock uselessly against the stairs. Jebediah gave a curt command and several of the factory's strongest men began to follow them. Karl couldn't help but wonder why their presence was needed, seeing as Jebediah had claimed that his business was with his sons alone.

On they walked, several stories higher until they reached Jebediah's office at the very top of the factory. It was a grand room, large enough to fit an entire dining table with chairs lining each side. The wall closest to the head of the table had been fitted with a large glass window that looked over the expanse of the factory. The ropes of a pulley system fitted with rusted hooks rolled slowly past the window. Jebediah watched it with his hands draped along his lower back as Ken slung Karl into a chair and gave the legs a swift kick. Bile rose in the back of Karl's throat and he spat it across the table, feeling as if he was either already dead or near enough to it. The several factory workers filtered in and the door was shut loudly behind them. For a moment, all was silent as everyone in the room watched Ken stroll up to the family's most prized airloom: Guglielmo's Hammer. It must have taken several hours and many strong men to drag it up the staircase and into Jebediah's office.

"They say that only the strongest of the Heisenberg bloodline can lift it," Ken said appreciatively. "And that so far only Guglielmo himself could do it. Until today, that is."

Karl watched from beneath creased brows as Ken rolled up his sleeves and flexed the muscles on his arm. Except, there were no muscles. The hills of Ken's forearm were as flat as a baby's bottom. But that didn't stop him from curling his fingers around the hammer's staff and attempting to lift it from its hooks. His face turned tomato red and the veins in his weak neck stood out as he grunted in a rather vulgar manner, jolting his body again and again in an attempt to unhook it. But the hammer didn't budge, not one inch. Karl couldn't help it. He chuckled at the sight of his brother so indisposed. The sound that came from his damaged throat was so dry and weak that several in the room turned to glance at him with pity.

"Ah, well, it's nothing," Ken said as he stood back and brushed his hands together. "Partied a little too hard last night, is all. Exhausted all of my strength on pussy and brandy."

"Sit down," Jebediah ordered and Ken immediately plopped himself in a chair across from Karl. The factory workers stood back dutifully, simply taking everything in with eyes lowered in respect. Jebediah braced both of his hands against the table top and let his eyes fall closed. For a moment, he simply stood there until he slowly began to lean back. Karl was sure that he would crash dead upon the floor when suddenly he gave his head a vigorous shake.

"It's no secret that I am ill," he started in a weak voice. "Long ago, the damned and treacherous Eve gave in to the serpent, and ate of the tree of knowledge…thus casting this world into the shadow of pestilence and disease…but there has been no greater transgression than that of the Black Prophetess who cursed this land with her blasphemy and sin. The wolves did not come in the guise of sheep's clothing, they didn't. They appeared before us in the semblance of a woman with a crown of crow's feathers and a gold-wrought mask in the shape of a wicked beak." Jebediah paused and lifted his eyes towards Ken. The two men held each other's eyes until Ken was forced to look away in shame. Fifteen years ago he had disappeared from the family's estate and reemerged in the village a changed man. He had cast aside his Christian upbringing and instead adopted the sentiments of Mother Miranda's congregation. It was obvious that Jebediah knew this and, though he never spoke on it, Karl had just assumed that he was greatly disappointed in Ken.

"Some of us fell prey to her calling," Jebediah said as he circled the table to place a heavy hand upon Ken's shoulder. "But that is to be understood. Satan's army walks among us with fire in their eyes, but love dripping from their tongues like honey. Ken. You are familiar with the Parable of the Lost Son, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah," Ken said as he scratched uncomfortably at his shoulder. "A man divided his estate between his two sons. The younger one took all of the money and chose to live a life of sin while the elder remained at the estate and worked under his father. One day, the younger son came back and begged his father to forgive him. Instead of sending him away, his father greeted him with open arms and sacrificed a fattened calf in his honor." Ken paused and thought for a moment. "And then the older son asked why the father would forgive his brother for his transgressions, and the father said-"

" ''My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' " Jebediah finished for him as Karl mouthed the words soundlessly.

"Right, but what does this have to do with me?" Ken asked and Jebediah gave a small smile.

"Are you not the lost son come home to seek forgiveness and eat of the fattened calf?"

"Yeah, well, I mean, I guess," Ken muttered darkly and Karl realized that Ken had had no such intention of seeking anybody's forgiveness. Slowly, Karl slid back in his chair, watching it all unfold with his fists placed squarely on the table. Jebediah leaned down and pressed a quivering kiss against Ken's contorted cheek. "I mean, what's in it for me? What's my 'fattened calf?'"

"As I said, my son. I am dying. I hear the Lord calling me incessantly, begging me to return home. And I will return home, by His grace and kindness." Jebediah paused and coughed with difficulty into his closed palm. "I have been blessed with only enough time to put my affairs in order. As it is, there remains only one last matter of business: the factory. Ken, my dear son, it is yours."

It was as if a bolt of electricity had traveled through the room. Ken stared at his father with a slack jaw as the workers crowding before the door began to shift nervously and mutter amongst themselves. Karl had slid so far back that his chair gave a precarious tilt and he was forced to crash forward. He simply couldn't believe what he had just heard - no, it must have been a mistake. His father must have accidentally said 'Ken' when he meant to say 'Karl.'

Karl braced his palms on the table and pushed himself up just as Ken rose to his feet. What, Karl tried to say but the effort of doing so only irritated his fried vocal cords. He put a hand to his throat, coughed, and tried to utter the word again.

"W-what?" He croaked. Jebediah turned and glared at him.

Ken gave a nervous chuckle. "Papa, I, um…I thank you for your kindness but-"

"Will you not accept my blessing?" Jebediah asked with a note of sorrow in his voice. "The factory is your due right, my son."

Karl's hand had begun to quiver upon the tabletop. Ken gave another uncomfortable laugh and glanced back at the window as if seeking out Mother Miranda's approval from afar. Then, seeing as he was all alone in the matter, he shrugged and muttered. "Well, I mean, I guess-"

"Due right?" Karl rasped incredulously, his fingers curled protectively over his neck. Every word that he spoke made his throat sting, but he could not hold back. The rage was building again, and a foggy red began to blanket his vision. He circled the table slowly towards his father, completely unaware of the way that the older man seemed to shrink at the sight of him approaching. Seeing the alarming emptiness upon his brother's face, Ken gulped and backed himself away into a corner. As much as he hated Karl, Ken knew that by relinquishing ownership of the factory to him, Jebediah had insulted Karl in the worst possible way.

"Due…right?" Karl's words gusted from between clenched teeth, spraying spittle across the room. He couldn't help coughing as he held his father's eye. In his fury, he hadn't yet realized that Ken's electrifying attack had given him a new voice. No longer did he possess the enchanting and mysterious melodic tones of Lucifer's tongue. His voice had deepened and become studded with croaking vocal fries at the end of every sentence - a trait that people would later come to know and fear him by. He jabbed a finger at his chest. "I have the due right to this factory, papa. I was born and bred upon these damned cold floors. I have worked the furnaces since before I could speak…before I could lift a spoon to my mouth. There is no one in this cursed village who knows this hellhole better than you and I. You know this…"

"But-" Jebediah said and Karl quickly cut him off.

"But you stand here before me…you look me dead in my eye knowing damn well that this land is what I am owed…and claim that the factory is his due right-!?" Karl swung his finger at his brother and Ken jumped with a squeal. Never before had Karl spoken so heatedly out of turn and all who gazed upon him then were struck with a cowering fear. "That pagan rat!? Let us not forget, my dear papa, that over fifteen years ago Ken abandoned us to join Miranda's clan - Miranda! The very woman who you said tainted this land with her unholy deviance and obsession with black mold. I was loyal to you, papa. I was loyal to your faith in a Christain God. And yet here you are relinquishing our factory to your devil-worshiping prodigal son!? I will not stand for it!"

"It doesn't understand," Jebediah said in an objectifying reference to Karl. "Miranda kidnapped its brother and held him hostage-"

"And so you're telling me that in fifteen years, Ken never had the balls enough to escape her hold? Look at him, papa! He is a stumbling buffoon of a drunk. He doesn't want the factory! You can see it in his eyes! All he wants to do is return to the pagan lands and kiss Miranda's zealotus ass! How dare you choose him over me!? You'd rather have a pagan scum inherit your namesake over me: the man who has toiled and suffered beneath you at the sacrifice of my own pride and livelihood! I have devoted my very soul to this very factory - I have bled and burned and bruised upon its very floor. Father! Do you not hear me?!"

Tears were running down Karl's face. He was hurt - so incredibly hurt at having been considered less worthy than Ken: a man who had abandoned their home and practiced joyful blasphemy in Miranda's shadow, right in their father's face. Jebediah was staring at Karl with open disgust, his stony countenance never once cracking at the sound of Karl crying out in his own defense. Judging by his expression, Karl was nothing more than a moth that had flit in the room and was circling desperately around the lamplight.

"I will tell you this only once, boy," Jebediah said slowly, venomously, for once dropping his habit of calling Karl 'it.' "Your brother may have rid you of your Devil's tongue, but you are still the Devil. I see it, in the shape and color of your eyes. I would rather relinquish my namesake to a pagan son than a man whose body is no more than a vessel for the Fallen Angel. Put on the glasses that I gave you. Spare the world of your lustful gaze. Lower your head and begone from my presence."

There was a roaring in Karl's ears, like waves crashing all along the inside of his skull. Then a whistling that grew and grew in pitch as his teeth began to grow so icy that the pain of it made him crumple and whine. Something was rising within his body but what it was he could not tell. It rose higher and higher, filling him to the very brim with an otherworldly pressure.

I'll kill every fucking bastard in this room, he thought as he glared at his father from between his shivering fingers. I will make them beg for my mercy, I will-

A loud, metallic 'clang' suddenly echoed around the room. With knees bent and one hand still braced against his face, Karl flung his other arm out and curled his fingers in a strained clutch. There was a simultaneous gasp from all standing in the room, and Karl looked up with confusion. Everybody was staring at him in horror. Even his father, and Ken, had gone deathly pale and were holding on tight to each other as they backed away from him. Jebediah began to mutter rapid-fire scriptures before falling to his knees and banging his clasped hands to the floor.

"What-" Karl started, watching in alarm as everybody stepped slowly away from him as if he was some rabid dog. They weren't even looking at him - all were staring at something in his outstretched hand. His gaze traveled past them, then slowly up his arm, along his wrist, and finally to his blanched fist-

-which was wrapped tight around the staff of Guglielmo's Hammer.

He let out a shaky exhale as he pulled his arm in and slid both hands along the Hammer's staff. There was an unearthly power to the weapon that he could feel leaching through his fingers and winding throughout the rest of his body. Such a large thing, and yet it was completely weightless in his hands. Awestruck, he held it horizontally before his chest and let his eyes rove up and down the shaft. He couldn't believe what he was seeing: he hadn't even reached for the staff. By some strange and unearthly power, it had flown across the room and come to him!

"You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father's desires," Jebediah was muttering as Ken fell to a crouch and began to sniffle beside him. "He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies-"

"Shut the fuck up," Karl ordered. He lifted the Hammer with a vivifying roar and brought it down upon the dining table. The sturdy wood splintered in two halves as the people in the room screamed and ducked away. God, the hammer in his hands felt so right. Holding it was akin to sticking his dick in the hottest, wettest pussy available to mankind.

He leveraged it along the back of his shoulders proudly. As everyone watched in fearful silence, he lifted his tinted glasses, blew gently across the lens, and placed them upon his face.

"Fuck your inheritance," Karl said to his father with a snakish smile. "I have received my due right."

"As God is my witness, I shall banish you from this holy land," his father hissed as Ken continued to sob. "I cast you out, serpent. So the LORD God said to the serpent, "Because you have done this, cursed are you above all livestock and all wild animals. You will crawl on your belly and you will eat dust all the days of your life-"

"Be quiet-" Karl ordered. But Jebediah ignored him, instead choosing to wrap his arm around Ken.

"Go and live amongst the livestock and wild animals and Lycans," Jebediah cried to Karl. "Seek your refuge in the Potter's Field. Live there amongst monsters of your kind, heathen-son. Set foot upon this land again and God will smite you down with a hammer heavier than the one that you now carry in your hands. Go, now! Men! Grab him!"

Karl curled his lip and bared his teeth at the factory workers who sprung towards him. They hesitated at the sight of him wielding the hammer before them and glanced back to Jebediah for assurance.

"Are you men, or are you cowards?" Karl demanded as they glanced back at him with hatred in their eyes. Though he felt emboldened by the weapon that he now wielded with ungodly might, he was still outnumbered. Sweat dripped down his face as he held each of their eyes in turn. "Have you not just witnessed my strength? Follow me! Don't be cowed by the tongue my ailing bastard of a father." Getting no response, he raised his voice in desperation. "Will you really see me cast out into exile?" He screamed, his voice grating and cracking under the strain. "I, who have worked shoulder-to-shoulder with you for twenty-four years ! No, do not touch me-" he growled as one of the men made to grab him. "I see now how you truly feel, you lily-livered cunts. Fine! Fine! I'll go. But I won't forget this day. So you say I'm a Devil? I'll teach you to fear me like one." Karl paused and pulled his glasses down, just low enough for them to catch a sight of his green eyes over the tinted lenses. "By God, I will see you all repent."

With that, he tilted his hat, hefted the hammer higher upon his shoulders, and strolled out of the room. The sound of his tuneless whistling followed him down the halls as he made for the door, and sought out his new life with the Lycans in the field.