The Strain: Another Season
Episode 10
Warnings: Sexual threat.
The Dismembered
Chapter Three
Somewhere between the Netherlands and the United Kingdom - Present
A dismembered torso lies in a makeshift lead and silver coffin on the floor of the North Sea. Denied the release of death and unable either to communicate with his Master or to consume the blood he needs to heal his wounds, Doktor Werner Dreverhaven has been condemned to a personal hell of eternal boredom.
Oh, and the constant pain of the silver wounds that cauterised his stumps.
All that remains of someone who was beautiful in life and striking even in death, is a shrunken husk. Starved of his blood food, the bones and simplified organs show clearly through the ruins of his emaciated body...if anyone was there to see him. The greenish-white skin of a healthy strigoi is now in parts as black as necrotic flesh and his eyelids have withered to nothing, leaving him staring forever at the never-changing vista of coffin lid. However, as the doctor's beauty has diminished, his madness has increased.
And to be fair, he was pretty unhinged to start with.
A sadistic boy, the young Dreverhaven developed his cruelty and love of power throughout his education and early career to a peak of wickedness in the death camp run by his old cavalry commander. The Nazi high command allowed his vile experiments and the Master encouraged them.
By the time the Master's elemental evil joined with and heightened his own, Werner was as deranged a predator as ever stalked under the sky.
South East Flanders - 1918
Days, possibly weeks after Hussar Dreverhaven left Lieutenant Eichhorst in the hay barn, he returns. Eichhorst is surprised to see Dreverhaven ever again and the boy is shocked to see the state of his commanding officer.
Dreverhaven stops dead at the sight of the older man stripped to the waist with his jacket draped about his shoulders for a bit of warmth. The lieutenant has a serious shoulder wound. It is cleaned and dressed and his left arm is in a sling.
Apart from some weight loss (and he'd not been a big man to start with), shadows under his eyes and a noticeable constriction of his pupils, Eichhorst seems to be thriving on the injury. He has colour in his cheeks and sits up straight and proud with an enigmatic little perma-smile on his lips.
'I've come back for you,' announces Dreverhaven after a few seconds studying the scene. 'Come with me now.'
'I'm not going anywhere,' Eichhorst states firmly, his smile unwavering.
'Sir, you must leave with me now,' says Dreverhaven more urgently. 'The British are searching everywhere for the murderer of a search party sent to this area.'
This news galvanises Eichhorst. 'My God Dreverhaven, this is terrible. Help me up.'
The boy does so gladly but is perhaps a little too hands-on.
Eichhorst struggles out of the barn door but instead of joining Dreverhaven in turning towards the road, he heads towards the estate house. Eichhorst's legs are unharmed and he is surprisingly fast. Dreverhaven runs after him and eventually catches up and remonstrates with him.
Apparently, Eichhorst is intent on pounding on the rich Jews' front door to alert a young lady to the dangers of discovery.
'Are you mad?' exclaims Dreverhaven, wrestling with him. He's much bigger than Eichhorst but the older man is determined.
'Lieutenant? Eichhorst?' yells the boy, shaking him to try to get his attention. 'Thomas?' The impertinence seems to bring him back to now.
'I won't leave her, Hussar.' Eichhorst is more lucid now. 'I can't come with you. I won't leave Tzeitel. I promised her… especially now we've...look you have to go on alone.'
'Tzeitel?!' screams Dreverhaven. 'A Jewess? You're not sacrificing yourself for one of them, sir, I won't have it.'
Eichhorst wriggles free and gets to the garden gate before Dreverhaven, who is now as fired up as his friend. He is frantic and insistent. 'She'll just betray you, sir. They're all the same. She'll take whatever she can and leave you to rot. She…'
Eichhorst stops struggling long enough to pull his good arm back and land a heavy punch on Dreverhaven's perfect jaw.
Dreverhaven blinks in shock but doesn't go down. Instead, a nasty grin spreads slowly across his face. Eichhorst was almost as surprised as the boy so hasn't got far when Dreverhaven barrels into his back, knocking him to his knees on the frozen ground. The boy pushes him down onto his face and digs hard into the injured shoulder, making Eichhorst cry out in pain. Dreverhaven is obviously enjoying himself a tad too much but he realises the noise will wake the Jews, so he grabs a handful of blond hair and bangs his officer's face into an iron-hard puddle, knocking him unconscious.
When Eichhorst comes round, he is back in the barn. He is gagged with an old rag and hobbled by his own trousers, which have been pulled down round his ankles. His face is a bloody, swollen mess but his eyes, once they focus, are undimmed and snapping with promises of revenge. He is shivering and dripping wet and that weird boy is staring at him with an empty bucket in his hands and a hungry smile on his face.
'You must come with me, sir,' he starts conversationally. 'I'll crack you on the head again and throw you on the horse's back if I have to but I'd rather you didn't fight me all the way to Germany. At least leave the area until the search party activity dies down. Then you can return to her. Here write her a note...' He produces a pencil and an old feed bill.
Eichhorst glares at him for a while and after trying ineffectually to attack Dreverhaven one-handed with the stubby pencil, he writes a long and impassioned letter. It is romantic and beautiful and heartfelt. Still hobbled by a cautious Dreverhaven, he pokes it under the bolt of the stable door of Tzeitel's mare. He declines the boy's offer of a leg up, hops ridiculously up the steps of a mounting block, and flops across his charger's withers. He seems fully aware of the vulnerability of his position with his backside right under Dreverhaven's grin.
It would be a fair assumption that Eichhorst's intention is to leave the boy and return to Tzeitel as soon as his restraints are removed. And that Werner Dreverhaven will, at least temporarily, sorely regret the manner in which he saved his officer's life.
As soon as the scary boy leaves, the horse pokes her head out of door again and finding something that smells of oats, she munches it. Her tongue slips in and out as she chews. Evidently, like a drunken kebab, it doesn't taste as good as it smells.
Beneath the North Sea – Present
After decades with nothing to do but replay his existence over and over again, Dreverhaven tends to dwell on certain key events and players.
In particular, he often broods over young Lieutenant Eichhorst's exhortation to improve his ability to identify his enemies. Unfortunately, in his current state, he lacks the clarity of thought to draw any rational conclusion.
Poland – 1944
The outside door of the workshop bangs open, making young Abraham Setrakian's head jerk up from the design he is tracing on the first wooden panel. There is clearly something in the style of this entrance to put the woodcarver on alert. Eichhorst never flung the door open with such gleeful abandon. He was more controlled.
Always controlled.
The Nazi almost skipping down the passage in his excitement, is the notorious camp physician, Werner Dreverhaven. Unfortunately, Abraham has his back to him and daren't look up until it's time to stand to attention.
Dreverhaven waves him airily back to work, places a black Gladstone bag on the end of the bench and plonks himself on his elbows beside Abraham between him and any tool that might be used as an improvised weapon. He is much much too close and he does nothing but watch and examine and smile for a good ten minutes. Finally he speaks.
'We have had some wonderful news in the camp this morning, Abraham.'
The Jew twitches to hear his name rather than number and this makes his visitor's grin widen.
'He knows your name too, Abraham Setrakian. Do you know mine?'
The boy hesitates but eventually nods. 'Yes, sir.'
'Say it then.'
'Doctor Dreverhaven.'
'Werner.'
'Doctor Werner Dreverhaven.'
'Hmm.' The doctor chuckles slightly and flips over onto his back. He examines Abraham's face at extremely close range. The woodcarver tries to focus on his work but he can't help flicking the occasional unsettled glance at Dreverhaven.
Dreverhaven's manner is light and his face is smiling and open. If it weren't for his reputation and an invasion of personal space that made Eichhorst appear respectful and standoffish, Setrakian could feel quite relaxed in his company.
'You don't look like a Jew, Abraham,' says the doctor, getting a look of undisguised displeasure from the boy.
Dreverhaven is unabashed and continues, 'Oh, don't be insulted. I think you quite beautiful, actually: huge, long-lashed, dark blue eyes; strong cleft chin, high cheekbones…perfect little nose…' the doctor reaches up and strokes it, making Abraham jerk away from the contact.
'It's an almost German face…But no one would admit to being a Jew if they were not, would they? So I must accept your word on the subject…' the doctor seems to direct the next words to Abraham's penis. '…mustn't I?'
Abraham tries to move away but Dreverhaven's hand snaps out and grasps a fistful of sleeve.
'Let me share my good news, Abraham,' he laughs. The friendly smile instantly turns threatening. 'You really have no choice.'
'You are aware of our commandant's elevation to the rank of Standartenführer.'
Dreverhaven looks at Abraham apparently waiting for a nod, although there was no question.
'We were informed at roll call last month,' says Setrakian. 'May I resume working, sir? He checks on my progress regularly.'
Abraham's warning to the creepy doctor that he is under Eichhorst's protection is clear but it just makes Dreverhaven burst out laughing.
'That's just it, my A230385. He is travelling to Krakow as we flirt – to be presented with his new decoration by the Governor-General himself this time. You may not know that when he made Obersturmbannführer, the insignia were posted to him and his collar patches didn't make it. He only ever got the shoulder boards…and he wears them so proudly…isn't he precious?' Dreverhaven collapses into giggles at his CO's earnestness.
The doctor's mirth subsides as fast as it appears and he suddenly pushes Setrakian's face down onto the workbench with one hand while running the other lasciviously over the curves of his rump.
'I have two days with you at least, Jew,' rasps Dreverhaven in his ear. 'And in weather like this, they could get stranded anywhere between here and Krakow. This is happening whether you like it or not. Now, I can take my time…seduce you…' he slowly pushes his tongue inside Abraham's resistant ear and then gently nibbles the lobe. 'Or I can enter you hard and fast and often…' He pushes his pistol down the back of Setrakian's pants and the cold metal in his buttock cleft makes his back arch in shock.
'But the exciting thing is that the decision is entirely up to me,' says the doctor. 'Your behaviour will have absolutely no influence on how I take you. You can fight me so hard that I have to tie you to the bench and I still might love you tenderly. Or…you might be the sweetest, most pliant creature in the world yet be brutally abused.'
'Or it might be a bit of both,' Dreverhaven leers. 'I don't even know myself, yet. Now…' the doctor reaches in front of Setrakian, who is currently rigid with dread, and begins to undo the buttons of his pants. '…whatever I do to you, you are to continue working.'
Fet's Place, Richards Street, Red Hook, Brooklyn – Present
Eph and Zack follow the Force down into the workshop. They both look a little sheepish.
'Where's Mrs Goodweather?' Setrakian calls out, barely looking up from Nora.
'These boys chased her off.' Eph smacks one on the shoulder with stilted (and obviously unrequited) friendliness. 'Saved our asses that's for sure,' he adds, a bit too brightly. Zach gives him a look and no one's fooled.
Team Sandra (or Team Hot Bitch, as Angel persists in referring to her) get a furious Dutch out of her cabinet and wash her face with emergency eyewash. Dutch is very sweary but still woozy and while everyone is distracted with her or Eph, Captain Lena Bartoli of the Force briefly tends to Nora's broken leg. Afterwards there is less pain and bleeding than before. Gus doesn't see what Lena did but he notices the results and whispers something to Angel.
He says to Lena, 'Look, you're injured.' He points to her hand.
'Not badly,' she says, shrugging it off.
He insists on looking and after a short but hot discussion, she shows an inch-long clean slice on the palm of her hand.
Gus opens his mouth but Lena's phone rings. The conversation is highly charged. Lena mouths to O'Keefe that it's Steve Collins and while she's distracted, talking to a distraught Sergeant Collins, Gus drops one of Angel's silver knuckledusters into her unresisting hand and watches.
There's no smoking, burning or flinching from Lena Bartoli.
When she finishes the call she notices and glares at the two Mexicans.
'You thought I was one of these things?' She flings the crucifix at them angrily. 'Happy now?'
Then she calls across to her squad, 'Collins' wife has been nicked and he's going to need help to do what's necessary… I hate to ask, O'Keefe… but can you go help him out? I'd do it myself but I know Loretta.'
Zach's ears prick up and he nudges Eph. 'You've got a cure haven't you, Dad?'
'Seriously?' says Lena. 'A cure for the transformation into one of these …?'
'…strigoi,' finishes Eph. 'Yes, well… no, not yet. It needs some work.'
'He doesn't have a cure,' Sandra sneers. 'He's just deluding himself because his wife's been turned. Nora says it's just a slow poison. Your friend is going to die a slow and horrible death if you listen to him.'
'Is that what you really think is going to happen to Eichhorst?' snarls Eph. 'Or do you secretly hope he'll be cured and his dick'll grow back?
'You saw the feed the same as we did,' she shouts, advancing angrily on Eph. 'Eichhorst writhing in agony on his floor. That was because of me. That's why he wasn't here with your wife. Because of me. Your wife was the one leading the assault. That was because of you. We've been able to free Vasiliy tonight because of what I did to Eichhorst. And why was he chained in Eichhorst's dungeon needing rescuing? Oh yes…because of YOU.'
The accusations and exaggerated claims continue to fly in both directions. Some are valid but mostly it's pure spite and common insults.
Eph accuses Sandra of being in love with Eichhorst.
'If I were in love with him, why have I covered myself in silver tattoos?' She retorts.
'Er…because you're crazy?!'
Angel makes himself comfy again. It was turning into a great evening. First the fracas at the end of that boring TV dancing show. Then the leading lady from that had turned up here in the gorgeous flesh. There'd already been a row between her and the doctor. Then a domestic drama between her and the other blonde followed by a big ole fight (that he'd survived so was calling a victory) and now there was another blow-up between Hot Bitch and the sarcastic doc.
If only they were speaking Spanish…
Well, the obnoxious doctor with the fruity kid and the talking vampire wife had got one thing right. Hot Bitch was crazy.
The argument seems to be running out of steam, into patronisation and passive aggression from Eph and the rehashing of old allegations from Sandra.
She accuses him (again) of putting everyone in danger and of being obsessed with Kelly (again) to the exclusion of all others.
'You left Nora to the mercy of a bunch of strigoi because of your "family moment". Is there no end to your selfishness?'
'Selfishness? I have a cure. I need to test it on someone and who better than Kelly?'
'It's not a cure. Why can you not face the facts?'
Eventually Nora interrupts, her quiet voice cutting through Eph's and Sandra's yelling.
'Eph, listen to me. Please.' She's pale and sounds (and looks) bone weary but since Lena's intervention, she's no longer grey with pain. 'She's right. It isn't a cure and you did leave me to die. You've made your choice…'
'I made my choice? What about her? Does anyone really know what she's up to? What her plans are? Especially about Eichhorst? She just struts in here out of nowhere and demands that Eichhorst "is hers", whatever that means, and that you don't destroy the Master until she's dealt with Eichhorst and now a few days later, she's calling the shots for this entire group. How do you know you can trust her? I've been in this struggle from day one and…'
'Way I hear it,' says Fet. 'If you'd listened to the old man on day one, there would be no need for "this struggle" at all.'
Eph turns to Lena, desperate for an ally. 'Are you and your cops under this woman's spell as well?
'No way, doc,' says Lena definitely. 'You come with us. You can use the forensics lab at the precinct. I might be grasping at straws but if you can cure Loretta, you'll have done the whole Force a solid. We'll keep her secured in a cell until there's no longer any hope.'
'I have laboratories at Finch Towers too,' Sandra nyah-nyahs at him. Then she turns to Nora and offers, 'You can work on weaponising the other poison there.'
'I think I'm going to need a hospital first.'
'I'll get you an appointment with the finest orthopaedic surgeon left in New York City,' Sandra boasts.
'Yeah well, don't come crying to me if anyone you love gets turned,' taunts Eph. It's all getting a little bit high school now.
'Good luck checking on how your slow poison works on Eichhorst without Cornelia's tech skills,' responds Sandra.
'I wouldn't come with you on a bet,' Dutch slurs at her mother from the support of Fet's protective arms.
Sandra ignores the sneer. 'No. No. You're probably safer in another building. That way it's less likely our connection will be discovered.'
Gus slaps Fet on the back and says, 'You and the princess can come with us, big guy. We got a sweet crib on the Upper East Side. Next to the river. Real high class. You'll love it.'
'Well, if we're all sorted…,' announces Lena briskly, '…we'll be on our way.'
'Wait,' calls out Sandra. 'Everyone needs a release buddy.'
Several male ears prick up.
Dutch rolls her eyes. 'Do you ever stop thinking about sex?'
Eph doesn't miss another opportunity to be patronising either. 'I think there are more important issues to worry about than satisfying your libido, dangerous though it undoubtedly is.'
Sandra tuts. 'No. I mean someone sworn to kill you, if you get turned.' She addresses the next sentence to her allies. 'Because we all know the Goodweather boys aren't up to the task.'
Lena spots that it's all about to kick off again and announces, 'I'll see it done.' She looks at O'Keefe, turns on her heel and leaves.
'And if you or anyone so much as thinks too loudly about Cornelia being my daughter, I will personally hunt you down and strap you naked to Eichhorst's sex chair myself,' is Sandra's farewell message.
'And I'll help her,' growls Fet in support.
O'Keefe takes Eph's arm and drags him out with the doctor still snapping like an angry shih-tzu.
