Hope you guys are staying warm. Especially those in Texas right now.
Also, in chapter 28, I say the Nazis figured out how to use artefacts in 1937. I'm changing that to 1939. I'll make a note of it when I post this chapter.
[Germany, 1939]
A man sauntered down a bricked hall, allowing his boots to click loudly against the stone floors. Every step drew an echo from beneath, signalling his approach to a cell. As he passed by adjacent rooms, the smell of blood and decay permeated the man's nostrils. The iron bars had long since rusted in this forgotten hell.
Dozens were brought to this place and executed for crimes against the state. Whether those charges were trumped up or genuine did not matter. Though it may have appeared as a bigot's actions, being in the wrong place at the wrong time was a grave sin in this society. Only the appearance of guilt was reason enough. A callous decision to create a scapegoat to satisfy those in command was all that was needed.
The soldier finally came to the intended cell, stopping several feet away from the bars. He stared at the detainee for several moments, observing what had been brought to his attention. The soldier was not as enthusiastic as his subordinates upon seeing him.
The prisoner was unremarkable.
The man in question was young, possibly in his thirties to early forties. He wore a black suit with a green vest and slacks. A cross pinned on his cowl appeared more as a stylistic choice than a meaningful one. His facial features were sharp, but shared a relaxed expression at the moment. Though his eyes were covered by his silver hair, concealing them from the soldier's view.
As the soldier continued observing him, the man smiled slightly. Mockingly stretching his lips as time went by in utter serenity. It gave him the impression that the prisoner was enjoying this. In fact, as he looked him up and down once more, the soldier felt as though he were staring at a dead fish. The prisoner was something that didn't belong here, dragged up from the depths and forced onto land. He was the shadow of a silhouette. One without life and had since withered from that time.
"Three days ago, a bomb went off during an attempt to assassinate the Führer," the soldier began, unmoving from where he stood initially. His figure was concealed beneath his trenchcoat. "This act of terrorism was predicted by you, in fact. Surely, this could not have been a mere coincidence?"
The man did not reply, continuing to bow his head slightly. The soldier was becoming rather irritated with him. Others would have shot the man and considered it done. However, the looming threat of his fellow conspirators gave him reason to hold back. Information pertaining to further attacks was needed to ensure security.
"I need the names of your associates, the men who hired you, and their motivations," the soldier continued, disregarding his silence. "You understand what is going to happen if you do not cooperate? Do you know whom you are speaking to?"
The soldier hardly considered this man to be a spy. He had no aspirations for anything. That fish could only wish to be returned to waters from whence it came. This man did not attempt to assassinate the Führer. Yet, that did not matter.
"Reinhard Tristan Eugen Heydrich," the man began slowly, pausing between every word, turning his gaze upwards to meet Heydrich's. "Director of the Reich Main Security Office and former Director of the Gestapo. Many amongst the Reich have given you the nickname, 'The Hangman.' It is an honour to meet you..."
Finally speaking, some life returned to this long-dead corpse. His silver tongue was fit for lies and deceit. Though his brown eyes betrayed any sense of motivation. Heydrich almost found himself impressed at this show. It was cause for him to proceed carefully.
"I see you already know who I am," Heydrich said, pulling a piece of paper from his jacket. "From our records, they call you Karl Krafft."
"Indeed, though I had many names before I chose this one," Krafft replied, sitting up to face down the other man. "I assume you are here to make true to that fatuous nickname of yours?"
"Perhaps, it depends on what information you provide me with," Heydrick answered, crossing his arms. "Otherwise, I will have to punish the suspicious. I do apologise; that is how the Gestapo works..."
Krafft only smiled hearing that. There was not a hint of fear coming from the man. A loaded gun pressed to his forehead would not have elicited such a reaction.
"You won't kill me," Krafft declared without hesitation.
Heydrich's eyes narrowed slightly at the statement. There was no end to the man's courage indeed. Few could have been so bold as to say such things in front of him. Even in the chambers of the Gestapo headquarters, the bravest men were brought to their knees. Even they were not in the same position as Krafft.
"Reichsminister Goebbels has already asked that you release me into his care, hasn't he," Krafft continued with an ever-growing smirk. "I'm sure Reichsführer Himmler would be interested in my talents as well. They have told you of the existence of magic surely?"
They had.
Few among the high offices of the Reich were aware of this. The only reason Heydrich was brought in was to deal with rogue mages the Gestapo had targeted when he was their director. From all accounts, Krafft should not have known about this. He was but an astrologer that men such as Hess and Himmler would consult with on occasion. Men such as Krafft were charlatans who fleeced coin from fools on the streets.
Yet, Krafft only spoke the truth, it seemed. Everything he said up to this point was fact. Heydrich had the man's release papers hidden in his pocket as they spoke.
"So they have," Krafft announced smugly. "Yet, you share personal experience in the Reichsführer's works, don't you? There are a few among your number who are quite extraordinary."
His eyes shifted from brown to gold for a moment. Heydrich felt a pulse rip through his body. It was unexpected but not painful in any way, akin to a shockwave. He nearly drew his sidearm as the man smiled, yet, understood it would not work on him.
*Ta-Thump*
Heydrich was granted a vision of two soldiers he had previous experience with. They were twins. Both members of the SS, though their temperament differed from many of their fellow soldiers. One was the beautiful Helena who had come to the Reich's attention for her skill as a warrior. The other was her brother, Christof, a sly man better suited to the work of a spy but a force of nature nonetheless.
They stood aside one another, facing in different directions. Helena's lips were curled into a predatory smile while her brother's were of a sombre expression. Their golden hair and eyes shone brilliantly to juxtapose the dark SS uniforms they donned. A golden aura flickered about, dancing on their bodies without a pattern to be found.
"If you could gather these two, I would consider it a personal favour, Herr Heydrich..." He stood, and the door to his cell swung open without any action of his. "We must begin laying the ground for a Magnum Opus."
[Jaune: Present Day]
"Yo, kid, you still with me," the sound of Corvus' voice drew Jaune back into reality.
The boy sat up and looked around, getting a feel for where he had ended up. They were nearing the ports of Vale by now. Jaune last remembered him departing from Beacon, given his marching orders for the present task. He hadn't noticed he nodded off for a second.
"Yes," Jaune answered, leaning back into the car seat. He rested his head on his right fist. "Though I had another vision... Zarathustra was working with the SS under the name Karl Krafft. He seemed to know Freyja and her brother before meeting Heydrich."
Jaune had yet to meet Christof, but from Heydrich's single memory of him, the man was also a high vampire. Unless he died in the last seventy years, that meant he was the other surviving member of that pair. Jaune could only assume they were the ones responsible for the deaths of the other high vampires. Twenty-thousand souls of significant power were residing in those vessels, waiting to be unleashed onto this world.
"Reinhard Heydrich," Corvus asked once more in disbelief. "Jesus Christ, kid! You have that asshole inside you?!" He turned to the vampire once with a bewildered expression before turning back to the road.
His reaction was warranted. Jaune knew of Heydrich primarily through his history classes, and the man was, by all means, the closest thing to a monster aside from vampires. The thought of the general numbering amongst the Legion would be cause for outcry from anyone.
"No, I would have known if he were a Nachzehrer," Jaune corrected calmly. "Yet, I still have a memory of his. It can only mean Cassius was there when he was assassinated."
The memories of Methusthelah's souls remained for several days after he'd been killed. They were fragmented due to decay, but they were complete enough to remember their moments of passion—the moments of triumph in battle or their deaths. Likely, meeting Zarathustra was the former, or his blood was intact enough to contain apathetic memories. He still wasn't a conscious soul or a fragment resting in Valhalla either.
"Picked something up from his blood," Corvus concluded, not tearing his eyes away from the road. "Then what the fuck was Zarathustra doing with them?"
It was simple.
"Zarathustra is a wandering magi," Jaune explained with a smile. "Just like Zarathustra of Zoroastrianism, he moves from place to place, teaching those who would hear him like any prophet would. Yet, Zarathustra was not satisfied with being a wiseman. He built and shaped the world over the millennia before he grew bored with those projects. He was waiting for the moment Karl Krafft could assert himself in a government and influence their direction. The man is Ahasverus, the 'Wandering Jew.'"
A man cursed to walk the Earth until the Second Coming. He wears many faces and plies himself in more trades. Karl Krafft was only the one picked up by Reinhard Heydrich this time.
I wonder where he is now?
"Hmmm," Corvus hummed, pondering the meaning of Jaune's words. "Then we'll have to tell Malleus when we get back. But we should go over the plan for tonight." Corvus reached on top of his dashboard to grab a tablet. He flicked it on and handed it over to Jaune. "So, the Knights of the Iron Cross are not your run of the mill Neo-Nazi group who LARP around in their mom's basement dressed in SS uniforms. Like Goodwitch said, they were started up by an American soldier and an SS member. Most of their guys are losers who got bad-conduct discharges or washed out of the military. The bad part about this is a lot of them have experience in combat. They're very well trained and organised with an internal ranking system and training camps to bring in new members. Some of their guys have taken to manufacturing automatic weapons and explosives that can put Oklahoma City to shame."
The tablet shifted through a slide show, presenting dozens of images and documents pertaining to the group. Several of their firearms were modernised recreations of German WW2 era weapons such as the MP 40, STG 44, and MG 42. Their camps were situated deep in the Rocky Mountains, away from prying eyes. Each and every aspect of this organisation had the makings of a cult massacre.
"Why hasn't the FBI taken care of them yet," Jaune asked, stopping the slides at an image of another arms deal.
"They covered their tracks," Corvus revealed. "Their members are loyal, and their boss is smart enough to not leave any trace. We don't know where they get their funding, but someone's paying for all of their guns. The only reason we know about them is that they made a mistake."
The tablet transitioned to a new slide. This time it contained the mugshot of a man known as Roman Torchwick. He appeared to be an aspiring criminal mastermind through his ambition and style of dress.
"Roman Torchwick," Corvus continued. "Slimy ginger fuck's got his hands in pretty much every criminal enterprise you can think of. He boosts arms from military armouries in the US, Canada, and half of Latin America. Sells drugs wholesale from East Asian distributers. And he runs a series of chop shops that smuggle stolen goods between cities. He would steal from his grandmother if she left her purse on the counter."
"How terrifying... I can barely stop myself from trembling with fear."
"Torchwick fucked up, and one of his guys got caught by the police," Corvus explained, pulling into a parking lot adjacent to the port. "Spilled the beans about one thing, then gave everything he had up. That's where we first learned about the Knights. We dug a little deeper and managed to get a spy inside their organisation. This is where we come in." Corvus put the vehicle in park before stepping out with Jaune. "We get in there, kill everyone, and bag anything they brought with them. Simple enough?"
"Yes..."
Corvus popped the trunk, revealing a cache of weapons and ammo. He reached into a bag and pulled out several magazines compatible with Phobos and Deimos. Corvus himself grabbed a much smaller handgun and stuck it into his holster.
"Use these; they're regular full metal jacket," Corvus said, offering the magazines to Jaune. "Don't want to waste those silver bullets..."
They walked along the wharf for some time, reaching an area hidden by the shipping containers. The locale made for perfect viewing of the bay, especially the wrecked bridge at the harbour's mouth where no ships could pass through. It also allowed them to spy on the warehouse where this deal was going to take place. Dozens of black cars with tinted windows were parked out front alongside a semi-truck.
"This is the place," Corvus mentioned, crouching with a set of binoculars in hand. "How do you want to play this? I think we should wait 'til everyone's inside and then drop down from the roof."
Corvus pulled away from the binoculars only to find Jaune had disappeared. The man sighed before jumping into the air, shifting into a murder of crows. The swirling mass ascended high up into the air before disappearing into an open window.
...
Inside the warehouse, several dozen men were gathered under a hanging lamp. All were dressed in accurate SS uniforms with their firearms slung over their shoulders or tucked-in holsters. They shared casual conversation amongst themselves as they waited for the deal to begin. However, the officers appeared to be growing impatient, pacing back and forth for the dealer's arrival.
It wasn't until the door on the opposite side of the warehouse opened that they stopped. There, Roman Torchwick wandered inside. His cane and shoes clicking against the concrete as he approached. He took a long draw from his cigar before removing his hat and blowing out a puff of smoke.
"Sorry about that, gentlemen," he began, tapping the cigar to remove the ash. "Had to take care of something that required my personal attention. So, how are you on this fine evening?"
The group leader, an older man, donning a black trenchcoat over his uniform, stepped forth. His expression told everyone that he was very displeased. However, he showed restraint in not losing his patience immediately with the dealer.
"Fine," the man answered bitterly. "Now, lets cut the shit and get to business! I've already had to wait an hour for you. This deal better be worth my time..."
"Straight to business then, a man after my own heart," Torchwick expressed, going to a nearby series of crates and throwing open their lids. "M249 light machine guns, M67 fragmentation grenades, C4 plastic explosives, and all the ammo and tools to fight a guerrilla war! If you want, I can throw in some reloading benches and a few crates of powder to sweeten the deal!"
Several men from the group walked over to inspect the merchandise. Torchwick saw to show them how to operate the devices and strike up conversations. The man's charm oozed out of him, quickly making friends and future business contracts with the Neo-Nazis. The rest of the group wandered over to get a peek at the arms as well, ignoring their surroundings.
The sound of a piece of metal hitting the ground behind them caused the entire group of men to turn at once. Even Torchwick put out his cigar to focus on the source.
"The hell was that," a man said, going for his machinenpistole. The fear of an interloper walking in on their deal prompted such a reaction.
Another piece of debris fell on a Neo-Nazi from above, bouncing off his head and landing on the ground. Everyone turned their gaze to the roof, searching for where it came from. There, they found Corvus squatting up in the rafters, looking down at the group with a broad smile on his face.
"Well-well-well," he began smugly. "A Clockwork Orange meets the master race. I wonder what kind of movie Kubrick would make with this?"
"Torchwick, who the fuck is that," the Neo-Nazi commander shouted, pointing up at Corvus.
"A distraction," someone whispered into his ear.
The Neo-Nazi was grabbed from behind and pulled out of the crowd in a blur. His spine was snapped using bare hands, folding him at the pelvis and leaving his corpse on display for his comrades. The soldiers cried out in fear as the vampire revealed himself.
His double-breasted black trench coat hid most of his body, stopping below Jaune's knees. The coat bore a high collar, though, not upturned rose just above his jaw. It was a piece that completed the image of a vampire on the prowl. Something that conveyed the lordship both Leonhardt and Count Dracula possessed.
The Nazis opened fire on the vampire, spraying a burst of nine-millimetre rounds from their machine pistols. The warehouse lit up from the muzzle flashes, acting as strobe lights in the dimly lit building. Though, none of their bullets could strike the target. Jaune moved faster than they could perceive, only appearing as a motion blur. This caused the men to scatter, going for cover or pulling back to create some distance between them.
"Harbinger," Corvus chanted with a smile.
He held out his right hand, and an Ahnenerbe began forming within his palm. The amorphous mass began lengthening into a staff before a blade erupted from within, creating a scythe. Several crows emerged from the weapon as its true form came into view, each screeching a terrifying discord. Its nearly two-metre-long blade was emblazoned with letters belonging to the Nordic script. Each symbol shimmered with a red light, coursing with magical energy. The air surrounding the weapon shuddered as the world became altered by the blade's presence.
Corvus leapt down from the rafters and cut a man in twain. Such a stroke was barely registered as the blade sliced through him effortlessly. The shock from losing his lower half caused the Nazi to squeeze down on the trigger, letting out a burst from his Schmeisser. In a stroke of bad luck, the rounds cut down two of comrades, missing Corvus entirely. He watched the man die before moving onto the next Nazi who came into view.
Jaune continued dodging the rounds fired at him from the Nazis, allowing them to waste their ammo on the vampire. Any bullets that struck the boy merely bounced off, ricocheting in a random direction. When it came time for one of them to reload, Jaune drew Phobos.
The white coloured handgun fired off a single round with a squeeze of a trigger, sounding as though someone shot a cannon indoors. One 13mm bullet sailed through the air, blowing apart a crate one of the Nazis were hiding behind. The round struck him in the side, tearing a hole in his chest the size of a melon.
His comrades shouted at the sight of his blood. Not one moved from their hiding place for fear of being next. They were left watching the man succumb to shock from having his chest ripped open and nearly a gallon of blood spilt. Each of them was rightly afraid of the vampire, longing only to escape with their lives.
Jaune wouldn't oblige them, leaping over the boxes with a single bound and pressing his handgun to one's head. The boy, who was currently upside down, smiled once as he pulled the trigger. The propellant exploded within the gun, kicking back the slide as the round sailed forth. Before the shell could hit the ground, the bullet impacted directly between the Nazi's eyes.
The forces imparted by such a cartridge did not allow the human skull any mercy. All that was left was a red mist with chunks of grey matter sprayed across the warehouse floor. That same blood landed on Jaune, only to be absorbed as if nothing happened.
One of the other Nazis who had gotten up the gumption to attack before he came next drew a dagger. Just as he went to stab Jaune, a sword crashed through his back. The Nazi realised what had befallen him as he looked down to find the blade emerging from his gut. Then someone from behind grabbed hold of it and ripped it from his abdomen, sealing his fate.
As the man fell, Corvus appeared, giving Jaune a nod before he went off to pursue other victims. The warehouse had become eerily quiet despite there being several dozen Nazis left. They had gone into hiding, hoping they could slip through another entrance. With the hundred or so rows of crates and equipment in here, there was plenty of places to conceal oneself.
Jaune leapt into the air, transforming into a swarm of bats to hide amongst the darkness above. One of the Mp 40s the Nazis had went missing as he disappeared.
...
A half dozen Nazis were sheltering among crates they had encircled themselves with. Several of their number were loading rounds into magazines incase of another bout with the vampire. Others had simply ditched their weapons in favour of running.
Each of the men was terrified, shaking uncontrollably as adrenaline coursed through their veins. They boasted about their capabilities when it came to fighting men but shirked at the idea of battling a vampire. Their simple arms would do them no good at killing monsters. Only a hero among them would be able to wound either of the hunters.
*Clink*
The sound of a boot clicking against metal sent a shiver down the men's spines. They looked around for its origin but could not locate where it came from. Instead, the men chose to huddle down behind the crates lest they risk being spotted.
"What do we do?"
"Shut up, let me think!"
*Clink*
The group let out another shout hearing the same noise as before. It was immediately followed by another where one of the Nazis turned their gaze upwards. There, they found Jaune watching them from above. He stood perpendicular to an I-beam supporting the roof, using his vampiric powers to cling on the vertical surface. An ear to ear smile stretched across his lips, exposing the rows of sharpened teeth that lie within.
The men shouted as they scrambled from their cover. The vampire only walked down the beam as the Nazis fired bursts from their Schmeissers, trying to kill the vampire once more. It was futile for them as every round bounced off his coat, shredding a nearby crate with the ricochet.
Without a word, Jaune raised the Schmeisser he had stolen with a single hand. Pressing the trigger, he let forth a continuous stream of nine-millimetre rounds. Their bodies were torn apart by the bullets as spent casings clattered against the ground—each man letting out screams of pain as the rounds cut through them.
Jaune did not let go of the trigger until the weapon clicked, signalling the magazine was empty. He tossed away the gun and reached for Deimos. The two remaining Nazis were dispatched with a single shot to the head from the black handgun.
The vampire took in a whiff of air, smelling for any Nazis that were close by. Their scent was too muddled to follow as each crisscrossed their paths. As such, Jaune could only follow the sound they gave off. Every panicked breath, clamour for another magazine, or their footsteps betrayed their location.
"NO, GET AWAY FROM ME!"
The cry for mercy alerted Jaune to further down the warehouse. One of the Nazis was struggling with someone. Whoever it was, Jaune couldn't be sure. The sounds of flesh rendering and blood spilling onto the floor told him the fate of the other man. Following that, the clatter of a handgun against concrete. The piece was slid across the floor as the Nazi became disarmed.
"How uncivilised..."
Jaune persued the origin of that struggle, wandering through several rows of crates. As he made it nearly three-fourths the way through the warehouse, the boy rounded a corner, finding the body. It belonged to one of the Nazis; however, the cause of death was striking.
The man's throat had been torn out. Not by one's hand or an instrument, but by a set of fangs biting down. Another vampire had been here for some time. Yet, Jaune couldn't determine who it was. They had no detectable scent.
Odd...
Jaune glanced around, searching for any sign of where they went, but couldn't find anything. They had made themselves scarce, likely trying to get a bite in and leave. This warehouse was a feast of half-decent souls that would have vampires running to grab what they could.
As Jaune went to move onto another target, several men entered his field of view. Among them was Roman Torchwick. The man's eyes widened upon meeting Jaune's, and he immediately kicked the back of another man's leg out. Such a blow disabled him, allowing Torchwick to flee in the other direction. None of his comrades offered to help, scattering as well.
Jaune's gaze turned unto the disabled man. He was trying to crawl backwards using his other leg in conjunction with his arms. Every step Jaune took in his direction made the man cry out in fear. His high-pitched yelps increase in volume as their distance grew shorter.
By the time Jaune was standing over him, beads of sweat poured off this man's face. The boy's sharpened teeth and blackened eyes were the stuff of nightmares. Rather than face the beast head-on, the man withdrew his sidearm and pressed it against his temple. Pulling the trigger, he took himself out of the game before the vampire could do it for him.
Jaune stepped over his corpse, ignoring the waste of man in favour of the others. Torchwick was still in view, running to the other end of the warehouse. His other friends, however? Corvus dispatched them without hesitation.
A murder of crows grabbed one and dragged him into the rafters. Seconds later, his dismembered corpse rained down with a torrent of blood. Another was snatched up by his feet and taken into a nearby shadow. The sounds of gunfire and stabs rang out over the Nazi's screaming. The final man was dispatched with a gunshot to the head.
All that was left was Roman Torchwick.
The man was scrambling for any gun he could use. Each one that he picked up was either broken or completely spent. His curses were not hidden, giving away both his fear and frustration. When Jaune and Corvus finally caught up to him, he gave up, raising his hands in surrender.
"O-Okay, you guys caught me," Roman exclaimed, kicking the nearest gun towards the pair. "H-How about we make a deal, yeah? They brought a whole suitcase full of cash with them! It's yours. Do whatever you want with it!"
Neither Corvus nor Jaune replied to his deal. This only made Torchwick more anxious as he realised what they were here for. He continued to backpedal towards the other entrance of the warehouse but knew he wouldn't make it. Torchwick wasn't dumb enough to run when he saw what the two were capable of.
"H-How about the guns," Torchwick suggested, attempting to further sweeten the deal. "You can have 'em! The rest of the shipment's out in the truck right now!" He reached into his pocket and threw out a whole set of keys.
They scraped across the ground, only stopped by Corvus as he pressed his boot onto the ring. Each man stepped over them, closing the distance between them and the arms dealer. Torchwick's face fell from the feigned smirk he kept on with this act. He swallowed once, attempting to come up with something else he could use for his benefit.
Jaune didn't allow for that to happen, cocking back his arm and leaping forth. He rocketed towards Torchwick faster than any human could possibly react. However, someone stepped in between the two men in that fraction of a second.
It was a girl.
She was shorter than Weiss was with a similar build to Ruby's. Her hair and clothes coloured like neapolitan ice cream. The girl wore a cropped, wide-tailed jacket with several beaded necklaces around her neck. Under that, a brown corset and matching pants paired with knee-high white boots.
The girl drew an umbrella from her side, holding it in the plough-guard stance. As Jaune's fist collided with her, both she and Torchwick crumbled like glass. Jaune utterly obliterated both of them.
What was that?
It left him standing there, nearly confused as to what happened. Jaune opened his hand containing some of that material and watched it disintegrate. The glass particles flecked off and disbursed into the air, and before long, the entire chunk was nothing.
Magic...
"Neo?"
"Huh," Jaune uttered, turning back to Corvus.
The man bore both a confused and flabbergasted expression. Yet, he recognised the girl. Jaune could see it in his eyes.
"Neo as in Neopolitan," Corvus clarified. "Like the ice cream."
"I get it, but who is she," Jaune asked, kicking around some more of that glassy material. "She looks like a mage..."
"That's 'cause she is one," Corvus revealed, going to grab the suitcase the Nazis had left behind. "You remember the Sonnenkinder Projekt? Well, the Americans recovered most of their data when the war ended. They put it on a shelf, thinking they wouldn't ever be needing that anytime soon. But, Jimmy came along and dusted off the file. They spent the last couple of years trying to perfect their technique without the whole Aryan master race thing. Jimmy wanted to make super soldiers. She was the first one, from what we know, and they nicknamed her Neo because of her hair. Year or two ago, she broke out and has been missing ever since. Looks like she shacked up with Torchwick."
"We're not going after her?"
"Nope," Corvus replied with a 'pop' at the end. "Malleus is gonna be all over that like white on rice. It's better if we let her look into that first than try catching her on our own." He hefted the suitcase onto a nearby table, popping it open to examine the contents. "Well shit, looks like we struck gold."
Jaune came around the side to see what was inside. The suitcase held stacks of hundred dollar bills neatly arranged before Corvus began digging inside. The man sniffed one of the stacks before handing it over to Jaune.
"You should get out of here, kid," Corvus recommended, shutting the suitcase. "Best if you're not seen here. I'll have a team sweep the warehouse and pick everything up. You'll get a cut of the cash in a few days after we wash it."
"Fine... I have something I need to take care of tonight."
Okay, so those of you don't know who Ahasverus is, it's the name given to a Jewish guy who was around during the Crucifixion. He got cursed somehow and has been forced to wander the earth until the second coming. Depending on your perspective, he may have cursed at Christ or by some other means, he did something. The legend became popular around the 13th century as the 'Wandering Jew.'
It really does fit with Ozpin. I don't know if that's what the authors of RWBY intended when they came up with his character. Likely, it was their own creation, but through convergent evolution of our society's stories it ended up being similar. And with Ozpin taking up different people's identities as he reincarnated, it shares a similarity between him and Ahasverus. To the Nazis, he's Karl Krafft.
Karl Krafft was an astrologer who predicted that a bomb would go off during a speech back in 1939. The Nazis arrested him, and Goebbels brought him in to be the new Nostradamus. Eventually Hess ran off to Scotland and the Nazis arrested Krafft where he died from Typhus eventually.
Also, Reinhard Heydrich is a scary looking motherfucker. He's got a face only a mother could love.
Encyclopedia of MAJMLYAI.
Vampires:
Jaune
Aliases: Leonhardt, Julius Caesar, Lord-Commander of the Black Round Table, Element Unknown, Element Unknown, Element Unknown, Element Unknown
Familiar/Ahnenerbe: Crocea Mors, Element Unknown, Element Unknown, Element Unknown, Element Unknown, Element Unknown, Element Unknown, Element Unknown, Element Unknown
People Consumed: 228
Nazis Killed: 1
Major Arcana: The Emperor
Cassius
Aliases: Cassius,
Maria
Aliases:
Familiar/Ahnenerbe: Machecoul
Major Arcana:
Freyja
Aliases: Mephistopheles, Helena, Freyja
Familiar/Ahnenerbe:
Major Arcana: Tower
Christof
Aliases:
Familiar/Ahnenerbe:
Major Arcana:
Arthur
Aliases: Arthur Pendragon
Familiars: Excalibur
Major Arcana:
Zarathustra
Aliases: Ozpin, Karl Ernst Krafft, Ahasverus
Familiars:
Major Arcana: The Hermit
Other:
Brynhildr Valkyrie
Aliases:
Familiar/Ahnenerbe: Musphelheimr Laevetinn
Major Arcana: Temperance
General Ironwood
Aliases: Deus Ex Machina
Familiar/Ahnenerbe: Götz von Berlichingen
Major Arcana: The Chariot
Qrow Branwen
Aliases: Corvus
Familiar/Ahnenerbe: Harbinger
Glynda Goodwitch
Aliases: Malleus Maleficarum
Familiar/Ahnenerbe:
Winter Schnee
Aliases: Sonnenkind
Familiar/Ahnenerbe:
Major Arcana:
Neopolitan
Aliases:
Familiar/Ahnenerbe:
Major Arcana:
Methuselah, Pierre
(He ded.)
Friends/Allies:
Ruby
Aliases: Element Unknown
Yang
Aliases: Element Unknown
Pyrrha
Aliases: Element Unknown
Weiss
Aliases: Sonnenkind, Element Unknown, Element Unknown, Element Unknown, Element Unknown
Familiar/Ahnenerbe:
Major Arcana:
Blake
Aliases: Element Unknown
Concepts:
Ahnenerbe/Familiar/Holy Relic: Form of magic where objects are given a will of their own from the feelings put into them. They can be found, created, or summoned by those powerful enough to bend the world with their willpower. Those who use them, have their souls bound together with the object. They demand fuel through souls. It does not matter the source.
High Vampires: Vampires who have a greater connection to magical forces, which allows them easier usage of relics. All but twelve were wiped out by the forces of the SS in WW2. Further mechanics behind their power is unknown.
Mage: Someone able to bend the world through magic. Typical spell caster.
The Council: Organisation dedicated to safeguarding the world from magical threats. It has recently focused its attention to combatting terrorism, but its original goal still stands.
Arcane Name: Alias used by magi as an alternative identity. Vampires typically are given their arcane names by no choice of their own. It merely conveys an aspect of them.