Meine Damen und Herren, I present to you, Kapitel Funfzehn. Also known as chapter fifteen.

As always, my sincerest thanks go out to my reviewers, ZabuzasGirl, Blackbird71, MusicWolf7, to name a few – you guys, coupled with my most-likely-but-hopefully-not-insane mind were the soul motivating forces that kept the gears turning and made me WANT to keep writing. Your reviews and precious feedback are beyond valuable to me. I am so grateful to have such amazing readers!

So, without further ado, I present you this fifteenth addition of Athena. May all hell break lose now and forever, Amen. In this chapter, I start out with a re-introduction of Victoria, Johann's red-headed (believe it or not, I didn't mean for that to be on purpose, given Johann's own lovely complexion) ex. Lover, re-appearing in a more detailed flashback.

I just love Johann. Has anyone noticed how much fun it is to write his dialogues? He's such a cunning serpent and it's just… AAUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHH….

Hmm, yes, that covers it. Drool-inducing… even though that it is so terribly unflattering and probably very disapproved of by Herr Skull… but hey, we can all happily hide behind our computer screens and revel in his evil awesomeness.

Anywho… enough of my strange musings.

So, as I was supposed to be doing about seven lines ago:

Without further (and I mean it this time) ado, I present to you this fifteenth addition of Athena.

I beg you to enjoy… literally, I beg you…

Regards,

J.B

Oh, and does anyone mind my use of adverbs? i.e., (for all of the grammatically-challenged, like me) he replied, snobbishly. Stephen King says they're tiresome, but I'm disinclined to agree. But then again, he's a million-dollar novelist and I'm just a kid with way too much free time on my hands.

Johann Schmidt's Private Quarters

HYDRA Base – the Alps

1942

2230 Hours

A washed out greyish purple color, like soapy dish-water. The gods had abandoned their earlier palette. From the waning orange and pink hues, mixed with vibrant blues and flecks of snowy white, to greys and muddied violets, washed out with snow and sleet, dried by the glacial winds, and faded by the daylight.

When the sky was like this, he almost felt a physical sorrow, the bodily urge to lament. The tightening of muscles and quickening of pulse – the lips quirking in a taut grimace, pained, tortured, mournful. Of course, the closer he contemplated this sudden stir of emotions, he realized that it was a rather excessive waste of time.

In the Alps at least, the sky always drained of color at around five o'clock, and continued to do so until night had fully blanketed the atmosphere, bedding down on the clouds, like some monstrous black dragon. Day in and day out, the menagerie of explosive colors, the most vivid hues splashing together, would eventually fade away, washed out by the incoming tides of a burgeoning blizzard, or the darkness of night.

Yet, every evening, he felt a certain compulsive urge to stare longingly through the huge panes of glass, reflecting, remembering, mourning. The sky was a blank canvas for his mind to paint an abstract portrait across, no one image perfectly clear, but rather, overlapping with the other, the colors combining and melding into something entirely new and different.

Tonight was rather unusual though. He had taken up his usual evening routine – poured himself a glass of Schnapps, lit up a cigarette, carefully poised in his holder, and settled down to immerse himself in a volume of Goethe. The same volume that he had taken to reading and re-reading every single night, since 1926, when he was only twenty-three years old.

The Sorrows of Young Werther. Personally, he found the choice of literature laughable. After all, a man of his career and persona – an ex. Gestapo Obergruppenführer, a murderer by trade – he was so heavily associated with death and blood and the ever-present evils of war and man that he considered it to be rather ridiculous to be reading about a tortured love-triangle.

Perhaps it was the memory of her that still lingered on his conscience, causing his heart to ache for no reason at all.

A ghost of a warm summer's afternoon, spent riding through the tall grasses of a Bavarian valley, glided across his mind.

Small, delicate, with skin like alabaster and hair like the evening sun, vibrant and full of life. Eyes like the lush meadows that bled out before them into the Bavarian valleys, bright with laughter. Everything about her was so exquisite – it almost baffled him.

Superiority and perfection were qualities he meticulously sought for in an individual – two things that Victoria Bradleigh did not contain. Her intelligence was far beyond a woman of her sex and years, but that didn't make up for her personna. She was the complete opposite of what a woman, at least in his mind, should be. Women were delicate, cultured things, much like china dolls. They were inferior to their male masters, obedient servants and companions.

She was much too independent and vexingly sharp-tongued – she swore like a drunken sailor and was almost always fiercely opinionated. Even now, their relationship having matured vastly, she still felt it necessary to argue with him for hours over matters that he clearly understood better than she. Naturally, it was nearly impossible for her to accept that she was wrong and that he was obviously correct. Of course, now it was so much easier to simply grab her and kiss her like a passionate fool than to waste his breath attempting to out-do her.

In the beginning, they'd avoided each other – their interactions never went beyond a professional level. She was merely an American 'correspondent', present for the soul purpose of observing and proving to her countrymen that the Nazi party only wished to 'better' their country and raise it from its economic stupor and nothing more. And of course, who better to dump her upon than he, the fanatical, mad visionary who had fallen out of favor with the utterly sensible Gestapo.

He treated her as she deserved; strictly a business counterpart, formal to the tee. Although, her own formality left much to be desired. Admittedly, he had been much less than pleased to have her company, but still, he had maintained a perfectly gentlemanly composure. On the other hand, she had apparently found something insulting about his behavior, and had, with an impish grin, snidely demanded that he start over with his introduction, as she had deemed it less than satisfactory.

From the first day they had met, she seemed insistent upon being the proverbial thorn in his side. Perhaps it was her assertive tongue or her headstrong manner that captivated him, her cheerfully amused tone of voice, the playful sparkle in her lush irises. Of course, her traits also could have simply been due to her – native habitat.

Americans were, after all, so very good at being maddeningly contradictive.

Yet, no matter how bothersome she was, he could not manage to keep his eyes off of her. There was something about her so strikingly different from other women. She didn't act helpless and empty-headed, obsessed only with her appearance. She preferred being covered in engine-grease over feminine fineries and thick, dusty volumes of ancient lore over interactions with other humans.

Perhaps it was the fact that she was everything that his ideal vision of a woman was not that intrigued him so. Perhaps it was that her lips were like the smoothest silk beneath his own, needy and insecure. Perhaps it was that her little, slight frame fit so well into his significantly taller, stronger one.

Johann tiredly thumbed through the well-worn pages of the book, unable to savor the taste of the Schnapps on his tongue, or the musty flavor of tobacco smoke that still lingered at the back of his throat.

Utterly foolish, he silently chastised himself. How could he possibly be thinking of her at a time like this? At last, the tesseract had given in – at last, he had the most destructive force on earth in his clutches. The world would be taken by storm by his beautiful little Mina and together they would rule.

Why then, was he thinking of some lying, conniving American woman – one who had taken advantage of him and abused his genius, like every other filthy soul in the earth?

He had merely been a toy to her. She knew that he despised the Nazis – she knew that he would willingly spout off their grand plans without a thought, if it meant sabotaging their chances for success. She was the only person in the world who had successfully infiltrated his thick walls, the barriers he had spent years reinforcing, keeping himself isolated and emotionless. She had manipulated his emotions, made him think that she loved him, that theirs would be a love-story to last forever.

And then, she had left him, taking every ounce of happiness he had ever experienced with her.

But none of that mattered now.

He grinned wickedly. Yes, he would take great care in making her pay for the humiliation she had caused him. The things he would do to her then, when the world was his. The suffering he would inflict upon her. He ran his tongue along his teeth hungrily.

A sensation of the deepest ecstasy trickled down his spine as he imagined kissing every inch of her alabaster skin, feeling her cringe in fear at his touch, before imprisoning her for the remainder of her days – torturing her, entertaining himself, and causing her the utmost misery.

Oh, it was so tantalizing.

"Uncle," a soft, tired voice interrupted his thoughts.

Jarred from his daze, he looked up at her, eyes darting about, as if his thoughts had been heard. Absorbing her innocent and ignorant expression, he resumed his calm composure. "Yes, my dear, what is it? Why are you not resting? You've had a stressful day."

Ignoring his question, she curled up on the chaise lounge across from him, staring intently at the embers of the fire.

"So…" she began quietly, "What happens next?"

"What do you mean?"

She glanced up at him, eyes questioning. "What happens now – now that I've… now that the tesseract has… given me its magic?"

"Not magic." His tone made her cringe. "Science. Magic is the human explanation for that which cannot be explained."

"But science revolves around logic." She answered quietly, thoughtfully. "And the tesseract is anything but logical – we can neither understand nor explain it."

"That is perhaps somewhat true, but not entirely. The tesseract, despite its volatile nature, is proof that the gods truly exist. No human has the ability to create such a pure, unadulterated source of power. Thus, we can begin to understand it. And, given time, I intend to understand it, as will you. Now is the time for progression and advancement. In the coming weeks, we will begin the first movement of our fight for human superiority and intellectual advancement. It will be a painstaking process, but one that we will achieve."

He watched her expression, her eyes lowered, her lips pursed in a slight frown. Her previous words echoed in his mind, causing his blood to boil with dissatisfaction.

It feels horrible, she had said of her imminent power. Horrible – how could she say such a thing? The envy that had coursed through his veins at the sight of her, waves of sheer destruction and chaos rippling off of her body like water. And to have her make such a comment, to be unsatisfied with the gifts the gods had granted her? It disgusted him to no end.

"You are dissatisfied with your… results?" he said quietly, stiffly.

She looked up slowly. "I'm afraid." She answered meekly.

"Afraid of what?"

"That… that I might not be able to control it. That I'll become too powerful – that I'll destroy something without meaning to. It's – it's so much to think about it, to know that if I do something wrong – that maybe the gods will take it from me, that they'll hurt me. And what if I hurt others? I don't want to kill people. I don't want to do harm to anyone. I don't think I'm strong enough to handle it all." Her tone bordered on hysteric, her eyes wide with fear.

Johann took a long drag from his cigarette before clearing his throat. "Wilhelmina, I have already explained to you in quite a bit of detail – I do not intend for you to be destructive unless it is entirely necessary."

"You had me destroy those men at the base!"

"I did nothing of the sort. I never told you to kill those men, I never directed you to do anything. That was your choice – "

"So you're saying that it was my fault, that I shouldn't have done what I did, that I chose to be a murderer?"

Johann probed at his jawbone vigorously, holding back the immensely irritated sigh that he longed to release.

"Wilhelmina, had you not done what you did, you would have died. Yes, you killed both your allies and your foes. But that is war. And war is what we are currently involved in. In reality though, you spared more HYDRA men by doing that than if you had done nothing at all."

"But I killed innocent men."

"Men that would have gladly killed you had you given them the chance. War is war. There is no positive outlook, no bright side, no peaceful outcome. People die. It is not ideal, but it is the ways things are."

He crossed the room and came to sit beside her, pulling her gently into his arms. He stroked her curls comfortingly.

"It is the way things are now. Not the way they will be. You need not worry about causing destruction, my dear. You will not destroy the world. You will save it. I will not lie to you and tell you that no lives will be lost. In fact, I am certain that many lives will be lost. But, with your assistance, we can greatly reduce that number. Society will not fight against you once they see what you can do – how far your abilities stretch. It will not be easy for you, I can promise that. It will be like a shot – painful, but thankfully, very quick. It might only take one trial of your abilities to show the world that HYDRA is not a force to be reckoned with. Once we have demonstrated to them that rebellion is pointless and also unnecessary, given that we wish them no harm, the world will fall into place under HYDRA's guidance."

She looked up at him, her face a ghostly shade of gray. "Will it really be that easy?" she asked softly.

Johann pressed a kiss against her hair. "Yes, darling. I promise, it will be."

"So when do we start?"

He smiled at her sweetly. "Tomorrow, of course. It would be rather over-zealous if we start right now. You need your rest. We need you rejuvenated and ready for action, my dear. Go back to sleep now, hmm?"

She nodded meekly. "Yes, Uncle. Of course."

As his niece quietly departed the main quarters, he could not help but smile to himself. She was still so young and naïve, so incapable of understanding how beneficial death and suffering could be. It was the ultimate form of persuasion – people were so malleable when they were afraid. Much more useful than when they were reasoned with, when they were determined and rebellious.

He chuckled as the image of Victoria Bradleigh ghosted across his conscience. Yes, she would be very malleable indeed. And wouldn't it be such a treat to her coerce her? To have his way with her, to completely and utterly control her. She wouldn't have the gall to be so snide with him then.

It would be lovely. Perhaps he could even create his own genetic line of rulers, to succeed him when he died. He smiled at the thought. Surely she wouldn't mind mothering his heirs. They'd made love before – how would it be any different this time?

He took a sip of his Schnapps, finally able to savor the tart, fruity flavor. Yes, the world would be such a delightful place when it was all his.

XXX

1942

Southwest of the Bavarian Alps

Proposed HYDRA Factory Site

The mission was quite simple really – no fuss and feathers. That was the way he preferred it. As little human interaction as possible. A short conversation, an agreed-upon fee, a scheduled date and time, and on to the next task on the day's list. Very to-the-point, and in theory, it should have been simple. But humans were so terribly vehement, so vexingly adamant.

Taking a long drag on his cigarette, he imagined the rhythmic pulse of the Confutatis movement of Mozart's Requiem Mass, drumming his gloved fingers in time against the hood of his car. Confutatis maledictis, flammis acribus adictus, voca me cum benedictis.

"That is my final offer, Mein Herr." His voice was dry, void of the deeply seated irritation that writhed in his chest. "Ten thousand Marks." He leaned in, fixing his eyes upon the obese little man before him, tendrils of smoke curling from his lips. "Ten thousand Marks for your starving wives and children while your sons are out fighting the war, yes? Or perhaps, you could keep it all for yourself. Tantalizing, isn't it? To have riches in your grasp?"

Hmm, he suppressed a laugh, He will waste it on cheap beer and gambling.

"You expect me to just up and leave, is that what you want? Why the hell should I? What authority have you to ask such a thing?"

If you'd like the honest truth, absolutely none, according to the government. "My good sir, I am an executive of the Nazi deep science division HYDRA." He paused for a moment, taking note of the man's blank look with some disgust. "In laymen's terms, that in itself is more than enough credibility to allow me to take over these lands and to take whatever I desire of anyone's belongings that may be of use to me."

The man bristled, crimson cheeks puffing out. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Johann closed his eyes tiredly. "Forgive me, sir. I was under the impression that I had already provided you with an explanation of that."

"I don't give a damn what organization you're from! My descendants have lived in this village for over three hundred years! We've stuck through bomb raids, prison camp marches – and you think that you can just waltz into our homes and kick us out? I don't care how much money you give me, you son of bitch – the only person whose making us leave is the Führer! And forgive me if I'm not as educated as you, but I haven't seen a goddamned single Swastika on you or your personnel! I might as well be damned if you aren't frauds!"

He gritted his teeth and forced a small smile. "Thank you for your time, sir. We won't be bothering you anymore."

With an elegant sweep of his long leather coat, he strode away. Very much the obedient pup, Zola was at his side in moments, earnest and impatient.

"I take it his reply was a negative."

Johann sighed deeply. "Your powers of observation continue to amaze me, Dr. Zola." He resisted the urge to chuckle as he glanced back at the scowling little scientist, indignant at his superior's comment.

"Well, whatever do you propose we do now?" he retorted bitterly.

"Exactly what I had hoped we would have reason to do, Arnim." He smiled sweetly at his assistant. "I simply get to try out my new toy."

Zola glared at him distastefully. "I'm assuming by that you mean your niece."

"Alas, if you must be dull. Where is she, now? Still napping?"

"Exactly where you left her, I'd imagine. Toys do not normally operate by themselves."

Johann chuckled dryly. "It is such a terrible pity that you are inept in the practice of sarcasm, my good doctor. If you weren't, you would find life to be far more interesting."

He moved on, back to the hulking grey-silver vehicle.

"Sir,"

"Yes, Zola?"

"Do you really think it's wise to exercise your niece's abilities so soon? After all, we haven't even tested their limits yet – "

"There is a first time for everything, Arnim, and I intend for today to be just that."

"Yes but isn't it rather risky?"

"Our business requires us to take risks, Arnim. We would be nowhere had we not taken any risks."

"Yes, I understand but surely it is too soon – "

"For Odin's sake, Zola – would you be so generous as to have a shred of faith in my actions?"

Zola pursed his lips. "I am a scientist, Herr Schmidt. There is no such thing as faith or luck. I thought you knew that."

Johann narrowed his azure irises. "Dr. Zola," his tone was soft and measured, "I know that very well. I also know that I am a scientist in the laboratory, and a revolutionary in the outside world. I will not stand aside and wait decades for the scientifically correct moment to carry out something that my theory has finally deemed logical. All good scientists have at some point in their lives accepted the fact that sometimes a simple leap of faith is healthy, and also necessary."

He paused to glance pointedly at the little scientist. "You would not have me consider you to be a poor scientist, now would you, Zola?"

Zola bristled but remained silent. Johann smiled, offering him a mischievous wink. "I did not think so."

Wilhelmina sat hunched in the backseat of the car, folded in on herself in an attempt to ward off the chill air. The thick leather of the uniform that she had been provided with kept out most of the cold, but it was not invincible to the strength of nature.

She looked up as Johann approached, eyes tired and rimmed with purple bags. She lowered her eyes quickly as her uncle smiled and bent down to kiss her head. He took her face into his gloved hands.

"Sit up straight, Wilhelmina; do not slouch." He beckoned her to stand. His grin broadened as she stood up, the HYDRA tunic elegantly draped across her frame. "Wear the uniform proudly, my sweet. Do not look so timid."

"Yes, Uncle."

He nodded at her reply, placing his gloved hands on her shoulders. "How are you feeling today, my dear?"

"Well enough, I suppose." She answered quietly. "Well enough to do whatever it is you want me to do."

He lifted an eyebrow. "What makes you think I am going to ask you to do something?"

"I wouldn't be here if you weren't. You didn't bring me along so that I could enjoy the scenery."

"And wouldn't you be surprised if I had? But alas, you are correct. I do need your assistance. Our correspondents in the village are, rather unfortunately, being disagreeable."

"Why wouldn't they be? You're forcing them out of their homes."

Johann sighed irritably, clenching his gloved hands against her shoulder blades. "Wilhelmina," he took her chin in his thumb and forefinger, "My dear, you know that it is necessary – "

"That you have orders from your majestic master and cannot disobey them lest you wish to be beheaded, yes I know." She cut in sharply.

Johann was silent for a moment at her outburst, but his eyes narrowed to slits. "Wilhelmina," he grabbed her face, clutching it tightly in his gloved hand. "As a leader of this organization, I promise you, I make my own choices. You need not be concerned about Herr Skull."

"But I am concerned about him." She replied. "If he is not here demanding these poor people to leave their homes, what is he doing? No doubt it's infinitely worse."

As she spoke, Johann strode on ahead of her. The HYDRA motorcade had rallied on the steep cliffs overlooking the small village, so as to get a better view of their desired space. Johann stopped at a large boulder, mounting it and staring out into the mountains.

"He is preoccupied with the finer details of our first movement, my dear. Fortunately, he has more pressing matters to tend to regarding our American enemies than to be able to spend the time listening to a childish little girl's overly chatty tongue."

He glanced over his shoulder to offer her a catty smirk. "Fortunately for me, I have all the time in the world to listen to your lovely voice."

She scowled. "Sometimes I wish I didn't have to hear yours." She muttered under her breath. In response, a gloved hand connected with her cheek, delivering a biting sting. She reeled back, swallowing a pained squeak. He smiled, satisfied with the results of his reflexes before bending in to press a kiss on the offended cheek.

"Just a reminder." He said quietly, as if feeling the need to explain his action.

Her scowl deepened.

Just a reminder, in case you forgot. The words he'd often said to her whenever he managed to anger her to the highest degree. You might not return the feelings, but I feel it necessary that you know that of course, I will always love you.

That was then. Only a few years ago, but if felt as if it had been centuries.

She cleared her throat.

"I would think that he would have people to deal with that for him. People like you."

"People like me are busy trying to purchase a piece of land to build a weapons factory on, whilst Herr Skull is battling a regime of hopelessly optimistic imbeciles who refuse to give up."

He shot her a cold glare – as if angered that she had even brought up the thought, as if it made him look lowly.

"You make yourself sound rather trivial." She answered.

He smiled icily. "You think so? Or were you under the impression that there were people to do all this for me?"

"Well, if HYDRA is such an expansive organization, surely Herr Skull would have dealt a share of his control to more than one person."

"Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Or, you are simply micromanaging. Which you seem to have a tendency to do."

"Ah yes, because it is all my fault – I volunteer to overwork myself when I shouldn't be."

Mina shrugged. "You always threaten to take a holiday. You also always threaten to take me riding or to take me to the opera or to take me to Vienna –"

"Yes, you live such an under-privileged life."

She returned his icy grin. "You told me once that it was distasteful to break a promise. And that it was a sin and that I would undoubtedly go to hell for doing so."

Johann chuckled. "And you kept your promises from then on, didn't you?"

"Yes, but the only promise I ever broke was that I told you that I would clean my room on Tuesday and I didn't until Wednesday. Meanwhile, everything you've ever promised me has seemed to go by the wayside ever since you started ousting poor innocent people from their homes so that you could build more of your toys."

He sighed heavily, leaning his head back as if to glare at the sky. "And here I was thinking that we had departed from that conversation."

"You also told me to never assume anything."

"Well then, it would seem that I've failed dismally as a guardian, haven't I?"

"Coming home for fifteen minutes, handing me a trinket of some sort, and then leaving for another three months is not the most ideal method of parenting, Uncle."

"I at least attempted to spend time with you. You were simply too busy becoming ill or not wanting to do anything."

"Seeing as I cannot control what illnesses I contract – and, I never wanted to do anything because you always had to leave right as we were about do something. Why build up my hopes just to have them dashed to the ground?"

Johann gritted his teeth slightly as she spoke – something in her voice tugged at his heart. She meant to be sass, but there was something in her tone that sounded terribly sad – lonely.

Angrily, he bit his lip – he hadn't the time to be distracted by her. Her eyes were so longing – silently pleading for him to halt his work, to take her riding, to tour the countryside – to get away from all of this.

He cleared his throat, looking back his men, tensed and ready for action. "Lieutenant," he barked, "Ready the platoon."

"Jawohl, Herr Schmidt."

He nodded in affirmation and looked down at his niece. "Darling, do you remember what we talked about last night?"

Her eyes lowered to the ground below her. "Yes," she answered so quietly it was almost inaudible.

He smiled at her and took her chin his thumb and forefinger. "Do not be afraid, my sweet. You are doing the work of the gods."

"What am I going to do?"

"Exactly what I tell you to do."

Her eyes flickered towards the village below. "You want me to convince them to give up their homes?"

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Something like that. But I promise it will be over very quickly. After that, we will go back to the base. Perhaps we will go riding in the valleys. You've never been to the Alps before now. I think you would appreciate their majesty."

She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming. Wet, with tears perhaps. "What if I can't do it?"

"You will. Have faith in yourself – have faith in the gods. Odin bestowed upon you his strength. The rulers of Asgard are with you, my darling. Do this for them, if not for myself and Herr Skull."

Her face drained of color as he said this, and he took her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest. "Be strong, dear one. Wear the uniform proudly. You are symbol of HYDRA now. A symbol of the new world order. Is that not grand?"

She nodded meekly. "Yes, of course, Uncle."

He smiled. "Good. Come now, let us begin. I'm eager to see what kind of performance you will give us."

With a hand placed firmly on the small of her back, he guided her down the steep slopes towards the village. "It will be very simple, Wilhelmina. Allow the power to manifest within you – like at the factory, remember? Like water and fire in unison – don't think about it at all, simply allow it to happen. It will be over very quickly, I promise."

She said nothing; merely stared down at the gravel beneath her boots.

As they neared their target, he halted her, pressing his gloved hands into her shoulder blades. He turned her to face him.

"Walk to the center of the village. Whenever you feel ready."

She nodded, and from the look in her eyes, he could tell she was terrified. He smiled at her. "Go on, my princess. I've readied my men – should you need any assistance, they will reinforce you."

He leaned down to kiss her cheek, patting it lightly. "I expect a grandiose performance."

"Yes, Uncle." She walked forward, her strides short and slightly delayed, as if she were deciding where to place each step. Several more steps, and she turned.

"Uncle," her voice was shaky, almost hysteric.

He smiled reassuringly. "Yes, darling?"

"There are children in the village, Uncle."

He willed the soft grin to remain on his features, despite the increasing impatience he felt in the pit of his stomach. "Do not worry, darling. Those who are willing to be agreeable with us have already evacuated their homes, along with their young ones. They will be unharmed, I promise you."

The words rolled off of his tongue, thick and sweet, like honey; they matched the tone of his voice.

"Who is left?"

"Elderly men and their obedient wives – no one worth worrying over."

She said nothing, her eyes blank and glassy. He nodded at her and slowly, she resumed her descent into the village.

Zola came to stand beside Johann, as he stared on at his niece. "You ordered them to evacuate?" he inquired. The little scientist flinched as his superior shot him a chilling glare.

"I did nothing of the sort, Dr. Zola. A little creative license never hurts, though."

"What do you plan to do with the survivors, if there are to be any?"

"Oh, we'll deal with them after, when my niece is well out of earshot. Line them up before a firing squad."

"You think that's necessary?"

"Does it matter, Dr. Zola? They've done it to themselves."

"You could have warned them."

"Would it have done any good? I am not a Nazi; therefore they consider me to be a liar. That is their loss, and not one that I'm overly concerned about. They would die anyway, were they to live to see my rule."

Zola nodded stiffly. "Of course, sir. They do not deserve to be spared, given their treatment towards us." He looked up at his superior. "Sir, it would seem that your niece is becoming increasingly curious about your… other half. Surely you plan to reveal to her at some point…"

"All in due time, Dr. Zola. I first need her to be productive. My secrets are her rewards for good service. And, given what she has discovered all on her own – I doubt I should even waste my breath explaining my… alter-ego, as it were, to her. She will find out soon enough. For now though, I plan to keep her blissfully ignorant. As long as she partially believes that what we are doing is for the good of humanity – and not for the good of the very few who deserve it – she will be less apt to protest."

"So you are lying to her?"

Johann cleared his throat, clearly irritated. "No, not at all, Zola. Why would you ask such a thing?"

Zola bristled. "I understand now why the Gestapo rejected you." He muttered under his breath.

He expected his superior to shoot him – he was a rather impulsive man – but he instead offered him a sly grin.

"I cannot help that they do not value a sense of humor."

"I would not venture so far as to call it that."

Johann sighed. "Don't be so boring, Arnim. It hardly becomes you."

The high-pitched voice of a young officer echoed in the background. "Sir, she is beginning."

Johann's eyes snapped forward, a devious grin spreading across his face. "At last," he said quietly. "To see her in action. It will be beautiful, will it not, Zola?"

He didn't notice Zola's uncomfortable expression. "Of course, sir," the little scientist's voice was faint. "I've no doubt it will be very impressive."

XXX

Her heart thudded in her ears like a clock pendulum, her blood inching through her veins at the speed of icy sludge. Johann had neglected to explain to her exactly what she was meant to do, but it did not matter anyhow. Death and destruction. Fear.

She was not there to talk – to be a peace-maker. He could do that himself. No, he wanted her destroy – to take the life of a once thriving village as an act of vengeance for their disobliging behavior. But even then – it was not for vengeance at all.

She glanced back at her uncle, his cold blue eyes visible even this far. She could feel them boring into her – urging her forward, eager to watch her perform. He had no feelings for these people; they were nuisances, preventing him from achieving his goals. They were obstructions standing in his way and they needed to be eliminated.

He rationalized everything he did – everything HYDRA did – so articulately and gracefully. The true, wolfish nature of it all, the unadulterated evil, was carefully concealed behind those icy irises.

His voice – soft and sweet, dripping with honeyed truths, stretched beyond recognition. He never lied to her – he spoke the truth. Just the truth he wanted her to hear.

She felt bile rise in her throat as she marched forward, but she kept her composure, eyes drilling on ahead, never wavering from the city square in the center of the village.

She didn't want to see the homes on either side of her, whatever faces loomed there.

The village was mostly quiet – tranquil. Flowers spilled from window boxes and garments writhed on their lines in the stiff breeze. The only trace of Hitler's iron grip were the crimson swastikas, dripping like blood from doors and church rose windows. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, she could almost see the haunting shadow of an octopus with a skull head replacing them.

She stopped in the center of the village, fists clenched at her sides. She was shaking hard – it was all shed could do not to crumple to the cobblestones.

She waited a moment, testing the silence.

"Hey!"

Her eyes darted forward. A little bald man stood roughly a meter away – the man her uncle had spoken to.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You bastards said you'd be out of here and on your way!"

From the blood rising in his cheeks, she could tell he was yelling, but the words were faint in her ears.

"Hey you! Go on, you stupid bitch! Leave us the hell alone!"

The blood froze in her veins. She didn't care what he was saying, no matter how insulting. Time seemed to stop as she scrambled for anything to hold – a clear thought, a goal. Lucidity was slipping from her grasp – what was she to do? When? Was she to bring hell down on these people, was she to wait for an order? It was all suddenly so over-whelming, so paralyzing.

"I said go on! What the hell are those bastards thinking, bringing in some lousy little bitch to do their bidding, huh? Go on! Get out of here! Stupid bit –"

Fire shot from her palms like the shockwaves of an earthquake. It rippled across her body in rivulets, like fresh rain from heavy clouds. It arced across her spine and pooled from her eyes with an intense heat, like the flames of hell. She was blinded for moments – then overwhelmed with the vibrant hues of the sky and the mountains and the buildings and the bodies and the blood as human beings were flung from their homes, clattering through windows, thrown into concrete. A cacophony of noise exploded in her ear-drums – the shattering of bones, the piercing screams of women, cut off as their corpses were vaporized by the sheer energy of her power. Fire and light billowed around her like layers of transparent silk, blanketing everything and everyone in sight – leaving nothing behind, no trace of life.

And then, out of nowhere – a little girl, still a toddler, was thrown before her eyes, her feeble little body blasted to shards, her high-pitched screeches still audible even after her corpse had long been decimated.

Within seconds, the fire was extinguished, vanishing from existence without a sound.

It had lasted not even five minutes – the entire thing. It felt as if years had hurtled before her eyes.

Mina looked around, surveying the wreckage.

But there was none to be had.

Nothing – nothing at all – remained of that quaint little village. Not a single bone, not drop of blood, not a scrap of clothing.

No hunks of concrete, not even a torn swastika.

Just singed, dead grass.

Shivering, she gasped for a breath of icy air. Tears choked her throat and burned her eyes in the bitter wind, and the acrid scent of smoke and scorched flesh stung her nostrils.

Her body felt dead and heavy, and she sank to her knees, gloved hands hitting the hard, rocky earth with a resounding impact that shook her bones.

Never in her life had seen such carnage, such – such lack of carnage, if that was even possible.

In seconds, she had watched an apocalypse live and die before her eyes. The thought that it had been born from her hands made her sick.

"Darling,"

She felt a hand graze her shoulder. She shook her head quickly and tried to get up.

She stumbled, her knees weak and trembling, but strong arms caught her.

"Mina, darling," He lifted her chin, his bright eyes dimming, his expression turning from one of delight to concern. "My dear, do not do this to yourself." He said softly, stroking her cheeks with his gloved thumbs.

She averted her gaze to the ground, unable to look at him, unable to show him her tear filled eyes.

What good was it after all? He had ordered this – he had done this? She was just a puppet on his string – on the Red Skull's. It sickened her to the core.

She pulled away from his grasp, lengthening her strides, increasing the distance between them.

As she neared the steep embankment, his arms were once again around her, pulling her into a tight embrace, his grip like iron.

He forced her chin up. "Darling, why are you like this? They chose their fate; there is nothing you could have done."

"I killed them." She spat bitterly. "I could have saved them – that's what I could have done."

She tried to pull away but he held fast. "What you did was for the good of humanity. These people – their lives are petty and unimportant compared to the thousands of worthy souls that seek betterment. That is the entire definition of what HYDRA stands for. Cut off one head, two more shall take its place. Sacrifice two hundred arrogant and selfish souls to save thousands. Darling,"

He stared down into her eyes. "My beautiful girl, I cannot begin to tell you how proud I am of you. You are so strong, so determined – you will make an excellent leader someday. I know these times are trying – I know that this violence will take a toll upon you. But you must continue to be strong, to be powerful, to be steadfast. That is the only way we will achieve our goals. We cannot do it alone, my sweet. We need your help. And I have every faith in you that you will be able to offer it when the time comes again."

He smiled at her slightly, sweetly; it was not fake, as it had been before.

"Come now," he coaxed. "I told you that I would take you riding in the countryside. We shall return to the base and find you some more proper attire, hmm? I'll have the horses ready – I've found a delightful young mare that I think will suit you quite well."

She looked up at him, her eyes empty and glassy. She pulled away from his grasp.

"I don't very much feel like riding today, Uncle." She answered softly, and headed for the car.

She didn't very much feel like anything. She felt empty and hollow and dead. After a moment, she glanced back at him.

As she met his eyes, she spoke. "You promised me that there would be no children. You lied to me. Again."