Ladies and Gentlemen, on this fine day, I present to you Chapter 7 of Athena. *No Applause, No Applause, Just Throw Money and Giftcards*
Ahem, anywho. I know I was promising a lot in the last chapter but, suffice to say, I wasn't quite feeling it (in other words, I was sick of going to bed with an unfinished fic on my conscience.
Anywho, basically, Mina sneaks out in disguise as one of her Uncle's guards and… kinda sees some stuff that she shouldn't be seeing… *suspense*
Regards and Review,
J.B
Also, I've noticed whilst going back and re-reading these chapters that I talk a lot about the monetary value of things, and you might be wondering why this is. Namely, it's because, Schmidt basically came from nothing, and to be able to flaunt the fact that he raised himself up out of the depths of poverty, in my personal opinion, I believe he would flaunt his achievements with every opportunity he got.
Tønsberg, Norway – 1942
"You are certain that this is the place, Dr. Zola?" he lounged in the driver's seat, smoking a cigarette and fussing half-heartedly with his uniform. Zola nodded in earnest.
"I don't think I could ever imagine such a discovery, Herr Schmidt. It's – Mein Gott – it's truly mind-blowing, how remarkable the situation is. To think that all this time it was under our noses."
Schmidt glared slightly, though he kept his eyes on the steering wheel. "Only under your nose, Arnim." He muttered.
The little scientist cleared his throat. "Yes, of course sir."
His superior nodded very slightly, as if affirming the action as appropriate. He took a sip from a pewter flask, naturally emblazoned with the Hydra insignia. The bitter taste of schnapps, slightly accented by mildly fruity notes. The bottle was twelve years old, from the very finest of makers. Naturally it was close to three hundred Reichsmarks.
A masked guard marched stiffly towards them, his arms raised in staunch salute before his master.
"We are ready when you are, Herr Schmidt."
Gently he probed at his mask. "Ready the dozers, Corporal. Let us make our presence known."
The soldier nodded and hurried off. Johann cracked his jaw and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He could hear his own fervent prayers in his mind, his entire body shaking ever so slightly with anticipation, with the hopes that perhaps, at long last, after so much laboring, he would finally have his prize.
XXX
"Get your ass moving, boy!" one of the higher-ranking soldiers jabbed the barrel of his gun into her spine. "Lest you want one of Herr Schmidt's bullets in your back." He sneered.
She gritted her teeth as the gun connected with her flesh, biting back a pained yelp. "Jawohl, mein Herr." She spoke low, allowing the words to bubble up from the deep hollows of her throat. To appear, not so much as a female, but a child in general would no doubt lead to immediate suspicion. And suspicion, no doubt would lead to something very close to, if not death.
The soldier looked her up and down quizzically, before muttering, "You have orders, boy?"
"Nein."
The soldier grunted in irritation and lazily flicked a finger toward the start of the line of trucks. "Get in line with the first platoon. You'll be guarding the entrance after infiltration of the cathedral." He snickered. "I doubt you'd be strong enough to do much else."
She muttered a swear, scowling, but obeyed the soldier and marched stiffly toward the first few organized columns of black-clad guards. Her heart pounded in her chest and her hands trembled beneath the thick material of her gloves. She felt the sharp twinge of pain as a gun jabbed at her back with enough force to make her stumble clumsily into line. Uneasily she glanced out of the corner of her eyes the soldiers on other side of her, not daring to turn her head. They stood with the same robotic presence, that alien coldness that somehow separated them from humanity and created a race all their own.
They didn't possess that typical cockishness found in most soldiers, nor that slight undertone of fear of being faced with war.
No, these soldiers possessed no feeling at all, their movements stiff and lifeless to the point of inhuman.
She stared down at the clunky, black leather boots, and felt her heart contract in her chest. There was no going back now, no do-over, no chance to run. Gravely, she wondered if she was preparing for a premature death.
Suddenly the first row of guards shot their arms into the air, the heels of their jackboots clicking together echoing through the quiet late-night air, and the hollow 'clop' of boots hitting the cobblestoned path sounded loudly. Instinctively, her arms tensed, and within moments, every soldier around her threw up their arms in stiff, ram-rod straight salute.
Through squinted eyes, she strained to see as a tall, lanky figure, all in black, walked fluidly forward, flanked by soldiers, an air of silent authority about him. A long, heavy leather trench coat concealed a black uniform; a peaked, military-issue cap with the brim angled just so to allow only a hint of the blue of his irises to show.
She sucked in her breath, biting her lip. Of course, she should have expected to see her uncle; it was just… seeing him among the organization he so glorified and had the utmost passion and zeal for… she'd never been privy to any formation so large and so….
She couldn't even begin to describe it. The pure power that emanated from the sea of soldiers, the cold focus, the intense concentration and devotion that surely no other soldier possessed.
She watched as he stopped before the platoon, glancing at them briefly, his head inclining slightly, as if to show his approval. He then turned towards a row of hulking tank-like machines. Soldiers stood poised atop them, their arms slicing through the air, acknowledging his presence. He nodded to them once, and almost automatically, the huge guns jutting out from the front of machines turned with a sick grinding noise toward what looked to be the target structure.
An old stone cathedral, the structure crumbling, the bell-tower's wooden posts eroded and rotting. The massive guns extended, aiming their horrid looking snouts at the building. A soldier signaled the operators of the machines, and explosives were launched into the structure, followed by an ear-shattering cacophony of noise.
Smoke and dust billowed up from the crumbled structure, the thick clouds outlining Johann's lanky figure, the HYDRA insignia gleaming silver on the lapel of his black jacket. He turned to face his obedient soldiers, a cold gleam in his azure eyes.
"Gentlemen," his voice rang against the brisk winds. "Time and time again, we try and fail to procure that which will ultimately transform this empty shell of a world into a nirvana; a place where only the finest specimens of superiority will reign in glory." He paused almost deliberately, as if building up to a suspenseful climax. "That world will soon be ours."
As if somehow cued, the soldiers roared in approval, their voices almost robotic as they chanted, Hail HYDRA.
A shiver ran down her spine – the extremity of it all… it bordered on cultish. Even Hitler's vigorous speeches and ram-rod straight soldiers were nothing compared to this. That world will soon be ours.
What world? Did he speak of wiping out the Jews, purifying the universe? What could he mean? Surely it was merely a pre-made speech, fabricated by the Führer's numerous secretaries. Or was it?
Mein Gott, she thought. What am I doing?
XXX
"Open it!" an officer barked, his high-pitched voice echoing loudly.
The grinding of stone on stone and the grunts of soldiers throwing all their weight against the huge burial vault brashly interrupted the otherwise peaceful quiet of the old cathedral. She stood to the side, alongside several other younger soldiers, watching through the dusty lenses of the heavy leather mask with some amount of fascination. Aside from wondering, what on earth was in a burial vault that possessed any intrigue for Hitler? What good was a skeleton for the Reich?
The officer's sharp shriek rang out again, "Quickly before he gets –"
The last word was cut off as a dark figure appeared on the more or less destroyed threshold, beams of light cast off from the flood-lamps on the tank-like crafts, highlighting the blackish silhouette. Instantly, the soldiers backed away from the vault, scurrying to the side like frightened mice.
Instinctively, her muscles tensed beneath the uniform.
She watched his careful, fluid steps as he walked across the mounds of rubble delicately, his gloved hands balled into fists, his azure irises cold and gleaming in the waning light of the wall-sconces.
He stopped before the man that lay sprawled across the ground, the Norse's eyes glassy with what she suspected to be fear.
"It has taken me a long time to find this place," he said slowly, deliberately. "You should be commended." He glanced at one of the soldiers. "Help him up."
Dutifully the soldier hurried towards the man, yanking him up so that he stared back into Johann's bright eyes.
"I think that you are a man of great vision, and in this way we are much alike."
The man scowled at him bitterly. "I am nothing like you." He spat.
"No, of course, but, what others see as superstition, you and I know to be a science."
"What you seek," he said almost feverishly, "is just a legend."
"Then why make such an effort to conceal it?" he cut in, his tone momentarily loosing its fluid placidity, replaced by blatant impatience.
Ignoring the man's cold glare, he started towards the vault. He stared at it levelly, as if sizing it up, and handed off his cap to one of the other men. He placed his gloved hands onto the stone, flexing his fingers briefly, and with a solid push, the lid easily slid off, revealing the rotted corpse within.
Her eyes widened slightly, and she clenched her fists. If three able-bodied men could not move the heavy stone, how could simply one man?
Gingerly, he reached into the vault, delicately wrapping his fingers around a glass prism-shaped object, yanking it from the stiff grasp of the corpse. He held up into the dim light, inspecting it almost half-heartedly. He turned to the man, projecting the object towards him.
"The tesseract," he mused, "was the jewel of Odin's treasure room." He eyed the man almost quizzically before allowing it to slip through his fingers, striking the stone floor and shattering instantly.
A sound like raining hail echoed throughout, and she noted that this time, it was not simply her who felt her heart tighten in surprise. Even the highest-ranking officer's eyes widened briefly.
Johann looked the man grimly. "It is not something one buries." He stated flatly, as if that was enough to explain his action. He stepped closer to the man, the toe of his boot grazing the other man's shoe.
"But," his voice lowered to barely above a whisper. "I think it is close, yes?" he cast a cursory glance over his shoulder. The man's Adam's apple bobbed slightly, as he swallowed.
"I cannot help you." He answered finally, his staring out blankly.
"No," he confirmed. "But maybe you can help your village. You must have some friends out there… some little grandchildren perhaps. I have no need for them to die."
The man's eyes flickered from the ground and onto him, his expression a mixture of appalled disgust and blatant loathing. He glanced toward the hulking tank that loomed outside, the sound of metal on metal echoing as the huge guns rotated slowly, facing outwards toward the city.
The man swallowed again, and only very slightly inclined his head.
But it was enough.
He turned toward the back wall, her gaze following him as he slowly advanced on the large, exquisite mural, carved intricately into the wood.
"Yggdrasil." His rolled the word along his tongue slowly, and briefly she thought back to long ago when she was still a little girl. How when she could not sleep, she would drag her pillow and blanket into Uncle's study, and listen to him prattle on for hours about his beloved mythology, telling her stories of Odin and Thor, of princesses and princes and gallant warriors. She'd usually fall asleep after an hour or so, but though mythology rather bored her, she cherished the times when she was young enough to listen to the stories intently.
"Tree of the world." He continued, louder this time. "Guardian of wisdom." He inspected it carefully, his eyes traveling along the tangled branches and twisted roots. "And fate, also."
Gingerly, he reached out a gloved hand, tracing the tip of his thumb along one of the wooden roots, trailing it delicately across the grain until it grazed the wooden eye of a snake-like creature. He eyed it quizzically for a moment, as if weighing the balance of things. Would some explosion of fire engulf him if he pressed it? Or would some hidden mechanism jump out and slice his hand from his wrist.
His eyes moved slightly, as if barely glancing away from the wooden eye. But without further hesitation, he pressed inward.
She sucked in her breath as a loud 'click' echoed, and a small wooden box, the size of small package, popped out. Gingerly, he lifted the lid, allowing a blinding cobalt light to flood out, illuminating the alcove. Accompanied by this, was a low, unearthly humming sound.
He gazed at it intently. "And the Führer digs for trinkets in the desert." He muttered, glancing up at the Norwegian man. "You have never seen this, have you?
The man lowered his eyes uncertainly. "It is not for the eyes of ordinary men."
A slight smirk graced his lips. "Exactly." He snapped the box shut, swiftly walking towards the threshold, retrieving his cap from the soldier and placing it delicately upon his head.
"Give the order to open fire."
"Fool!" the Norse's voice called out. Johann glanced at him with some irritation. "You cannot control the power you hold. You will burn!"
Mina watched from the side as his gloved hand moved to the pocket of his coat. "I already have."
The man made a move but his revolver was already out, the sound of gunshot ringing in her ears. Blood spattered from the man's chest; inadvertently, a yelp escaped her lips before she could clamp her mouth shut.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched him cast a glance over his shoulder, eyeing her for only a moment before stalking off.
She was done for. At least several pairs of eyes watched her carefully now, looking for where the high-pitched sound had come from. Deterred by the sudden silence, they obediently cast away their curious eyes and hurried off to follow their superior.
She heaved a sigh of relief and turned to follow as well, back to the convoy –
Someone tapped her shoulder lightly. Unthinkingly, she turned –
Only to be greeted by a small little man with a red bow-tie and a folio of design blueprints tucked under his arm, several leather-clad soldiers standing behind him. For a moment, she gaped beneath the mask, opening her mouth to speak, but found her throat dry.
She raised a hand but he pressed a gloved finger to his lips, almost smiling. He gazed past her, and uncertainly, she turned to see where he was looking –
A blur of metal cut through the dusty air, colliding with her head.
She was only vaguely conscious as her legs buckled beneath her and the cathedral walls spun.
Her eyes flickered beneath the mask's lenses, and the world went swiftly black.
