Plot: A certain mutant-hating Senator is approached by the Millennium organization and unknowingly paves the way for a war more terrifying than anything he could have imagined.
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize...
Warning: This chapter contains a scene involving torture and the use of a racial slur. Nazis didn't care about political correctness (which didn't exist then) or the Geneva Convention.
Chapter Thirteen: Acts of Vengeance Part I
Somewhere in eastern Poland, winter 1943...
Max ran through the forest as fast as he could, his time in the camp had left him emaciated and weak. Trudging through knee deep snow in mismatched winter clothing he had "liberated" from various homes across country side. He was trying to make it to the Soviet Union, according to rumors the tide of war had turned against Nazis and the Red Army was going on the offensive. Some even whispered of Poland of the country being liberated eventually.
Max seriously doubted that would be the proper word for it. The Poles hated the Soviets as much as they did the Nazis, "Not that my people will be treated any better," Max spat bitterly, he wondered if that was what was keeping him alive. The anger and the bitterness he held within; it wasn't as if anyone he loved was still alive.
What did he have to live for? The answer came to Max as naturally breathing, "Vengeance." For now though he would try and make it to Russia, they wouldn't shoot him for now. They were saving everything they had for the Nazis they wouldn't be interested in a half dead Jew,
"Or would they?" He muttered darkly, the first camps to contain Jews weren't built in Hitler's Germany but in the Czar's Russia a generation before. According to German propaganda Jews were the true masters of the USSR and Stalin was merely a puppet. If that was true Stalin would've never formed an alliance with Hitler in the thirties.
The Nazis also claimed the Jews of Hollywood controlled the United States. If that were true America wouldn't have squatted uselessly on the other side of the Atlantic for so long, "They all hate us! They're all against us!"
If not for his...gift or perhaps a curse Eisenhardt hadn't quite decided which it was yet. If not for it he would still be in that veritable Hell on Earth. As he made through the snow choked forest he pondered the thing he felt growing inside him. His father might have called it a gift from God, a sentiment that once upon Max might have shared. If this power had shown itself in time to save his family he might seen it as a gift. As far as he as was concerned if the God of Abraham existed he had clearly turned his back on his people.
"It wouldn't be the first time." He recalled how in the book of Exodus God had allowed the Hebrews to spend four centuries in chains before he answered their cries. If God was was expecting him to cry out for help he'd be sorely disappointed. There was one thing Max knew about this power: it was his and his alone, not God's, not the Devil's.
In the face of howling, screaming wind that seemed determined to break him Max swore that one day he would learn to control this power. Then he'd hunt down the Nazis and everyone like them everyone like them. Never, never again would anyone be able to do what was being done at the camps, no matter the cost. The anger and bitterness, the agony and the fear inside him were being into something hot and caustic: Hatred.
Max froze when he something from behind, he took refuge behind a tree. The sound got louder, to his disbelief it was someone singing of all things in the middle of the forest at night;
"Mag Fortunas Kugel rollen;" Let the lucky bullet spin
A clearly female voice sang auf Deutsch, Max heard her foot steps in the snow followed by a clicking sound,
"Wer sich hohrer Kraft bewust, Trotgt dem Wechsel und Verlust!" He who knows the Higher Powers Defies all change and loss!
The woman gave a happy sigh, "Like brave Kaspar I hoped to face the devil Zamiel but a duel with the infamous Wandering Jew is itself worthy of song. The guards at Treblinka claim that you are Ahasver himself and vith your foul craft you broke out." The woman's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, "So are you the Wandering Jew? Did God curse you to walk the Earth till Judgment Day for mocking Our Lord's suffering as he died for our sins?" She half asked, half teased,
Max ground his teeth in anger, why was he hiding? With his power he'd be more then a match for one woman. He stepped out from behind the tree into the pale moonlight. Some fifteen feet from where he was standing was the woman. Her long blue-black hair was pulled into a pair of pig tails that blew in the breeze. The woman was wearing heavy winter gear over her uniform. Max's blood boiled when he realized she wasn't Werhmacht, the Sig Runes on her cap marked her as Waffen SS,
"I'm not the Wandering Jew you tone death, black shirt bitch!" He spat, the young man took a great deal of satisfaction watching all her cheer and humor vanish as face her turned an ugly shade purple. She leveled her fire at him, a long flintlock musket of all things,
"Miserable little Kike! Thank whatever god you worship that my superiors want you alive!" She shrieked like a harpy. The air around Max seem distort as he summoned his burgeoning abilities.
"Too bad I want you dead!"Max spat, the woman grinned evilly as she rested the antiquated gun on her shoulder,
"My superiors want you alive boy, but I doubt they'll complain if your missing a few limbs. Be warned Ahasver: tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor my bullets punish all without distinction!" The crack of the rifle was deafening, acting on instinct Max threw his power outward hoping the catch or deflect the bullet. The magic musket round was followed by a trail of brilliant blue light. Max forced the bullet to curve just to the left of his shoulder. It tore through one of trees behind him with the force of a cannon ball, the tree fell almost crushing him. Overcoming his shock Max scrambled to take cover behind the tree to formulate a new strategy. To his further shock the brilliant blue streak was still visible as it went high above trees where it changed course; it zigzag several times before it shot back down toward him at high speed. Max summoned his strange power again, but it wasn't necessary.
Something massive stepped in between him and the bullet. Said something caught the bullet, the thing's eyes were like burning gold. To Max's relief the thing was not staring at him but over him at the woman.
"Herr Haupsturmfuhrer!" She said tightly, trying to control her fear but not succeeding, "I-I let my emotions get the better of and I f-forgot the mission, forg-g-give meee!" She said breaking down as if confessing to priest that she had attended a Black Mass. The tall one very audibly inhaled and exhaled before gazing down at Max.
The crying, mousey-looking woman with the magic musket hardly fit the image one had of the Schuztschaffel. The man towering over him now though could've been stepped right out from one of the SS's recruiting posters. His broad, stoic features were more Scandinavian then German, he too wore a uniform but no winter gear. The eight-foot seemed oblivious to the cold and the wind, the only thing he his attention was focused on was Max. As he looked into those soulless violet orbs Max felt confidence in his fledging powers waver slightly, but it didn't break.
"No!" Max spat defiantly, "I've come to far to be taken back no-" Max was left unable to finish as Hans unceremoniously put two rounds in his left shin and another in his right foot. Before he even hit the ground screaming Haupsturmfuhrer grabbed him by the scarf and flung him toward a nearby tree. Max impacted with enough force to dislocate his left shoulder. The boy screamed in agony, the large one wouldn't give him break. He grabbed Max by the hair and non too gently slammed his head into yet another tree sending him into the merciful dark...
Royal Palace, Genosha, Present...
"Sir?" The pink-skinned elfin woman quired sounding more then a little concerned about her superior. If Magneto felt at all embarrassed by is moment of absent mindedness he gave no hint of it,
"No need for concern Blink," Erik said in a tone that left little room for argument, "Remember to teleport everyone; Brotherhood, X-Men, Iscariot, and any of our people the Senator's black shirts are holding prisoner to Charles's abode, no one, absolutely no one, will be abandoned understood?" The young woman nodded and pulled a long fuchsia colored crystal from a quiver on her back. The crystal turned to energy of same color engulfing them both.
MRD Main Facility, a few minutes later...
The tide of battle had turned for Scott Summers and Alexander Anderson. Both men had actually managed to severely underestimated the Captain's abilities. Before Anderson could deal the killing blow The shifted to his mist form and proceed to make grimly quick work of Anderson using his bayonets against him. As it turned out littering the battlefield with limitless bayonets could come back to haunt you if you were facing a resourceful enemy.
Alexander Anderson on the ground face down, the wolfman had him pinned downed with his own blades. The priests wound's were regenerating quickly so the good Captain got to work. The white furred werewolf ripped the clothes off Anderson's back with the intent of avenging those among his brothers and sisters who died at the hands of the Inquisition.
The church had made a point of killing werewolves with the same ritualistic pomp and circumstances as they did vampires even though werewolves were unaffected by religious symbols. Now Hans would return the favor, the village of his birth was rather unique in regards to it's spirituality. Descendants of Viking invaders his people maintained a church where they venerated not Jehovah, Christ, or the Saints but Odin, Thor, and the heroes of the ancient sagas. Hans intended to honor the Old Gods by performing the Blothorn or Blood Eagle on the Christian Priest.
The werewolf''s clawed hands dug into both sides of Anderson's back and one by one broke off his ribs like twigs from a branch the priest screamed curses. Cyclops who's legs had been broken and hands nailed to the ground in a fashion all to similar to Anderson watched in horror as Hans pulled the Paladin's lungs out through his back,
"HOLY CHRIST!" Scott screamed as he witnessed the Captain but the finishing touches on what had one of the most fucked up ways to kill someone ever devised as far as Scott was concerned. As was intended the mutant priest's lungs fluttered in the breeze like the wings of a blood soak bird of prey. The wolfman turned to face the X-Man. His once snow white fur was dyed red from the paladin's blood. The Captain advanced on Scott, bloody bayonet in hand his intention was clear. Glancing at Anderson's steaming, still struggling form the Paladin was actually still alive.
Cyclops found himself actually hoping that if Hans performed this ghastly rite on him that he'd die instantly then suffer through something that horrifying. Emma mentally screamed at him to save himself somehow, Scott blocked her out so she wouldn't have to see what was about to happen to him. If the chance to fight back presented itself Cyclops would take but as he saw it his goose was cooked.
Blood dripped on him from the Captain's now pink fur just in front of Scott forming a small puddle. The wolfman paused as he sniffed the air, from the way he snarled Scott guessed he didn't like what he smelled. A humming sound like that of electric generator could be, a sound every X-Men knew and feared. The scattered bayonets flew from the ground and nearly skewered Hans, the werewolf narrowly evaded the attack,
"Impressive Herr Haupsturmfuhrer," Magneto's tone was colder then Scott had ever heard him, "Your reflexes are as quick as I remember them. You truly haven't changed at all in the last half century have you?" Scott's gazed followed the trail of flying bayonets and concrete coated chunks of twisted, heat warped metal, no doubt from the hangar leveled during his...breakdown. Then he saw Magneto and for the first time in a very long Scott was truly afraid of the Master Magnetism, "I on the other hand have evolved beyond humanity, beyond you creature."
He was at the heart of the metallic maelstrom, Magneto's face was hidden from beneath his helmet save his eyes which glowed a ghostly white. The very air around him seemed to distort from the extreme use of his powers, shadows seemed to engulf most of his body. Eric Lensherr looked like he belonged in the same twisted world that had spawned the Captain and Anderson.
Magneto landed just in front Cyclops as if reading his thoughts he said: "You have no reason to fear me Scott, against Millennium mutantkind stands united. One of my subordinates will evacuate you, your team, and all other mutants present." As he explained these things to Scott he never took his eyes of the wolfman, "Meanwhile I have a score to settle with the mongrel."
Before Scott could protest some pink-skinned elf who looked she had stepped out of the pages of a sword and sorcery epic. The two vanished in a flash of light, followed by the mass of twitching steaming gore that had been Alexander Anderson. Thus Magneto and the Captain were left alone.
Neither individual needed or wanted to say anything, they simply acted. In bust of speed that shattered the concrete beneath his boots Hans charged Lensherr with the intent of rending him to pieces only to be halted by a magnetic force field. Magneto's eyes blazed like twin white dwarfs as the barrier dropped. White lightning leapt from his finger tips much to Gunsche's surprise. While not as powerful as Storm's electrical attacks it was still potent enough to cause him considerable pain.
Unknown to either of them Schrodinger filmed everything for the benefit of his superiors. He had triumphed over Wade when their forth wall battle branched off into animated adaptations. Deadpool was currently petitioning the writer to do a one or two shot about th rest of their battle.
Somewhere in the Amazon Rainforest...
"It vould appear I've underestimated Little Max's boldness!" The Major exclaimed sounding pleasantly surprised as the Doctor sat down a whole roast goose with chestnut stuffing before him. With a look of what can only be described as a gluttonous lust upon his face that would've nauseated Henry VIII he tore off a drumstick and began tearing meat from the bone with his teeth. His hazel eyes wide behind his glasses as the two battled,
"Look at you little Max, how much like us you've become." the Major mused, "You seek Lebensraum for the sake of your Master Race. Do realize how much alike we are, my dark brother? Does it keep you awake at night? Haunt you as you stroll restlessly through the halls of your palace? Or do you delude yourself little Max? Do you see yourself as Moses? Leading your people to zhe promised land?" He took a moment to wipe his mouth and held up a glass of white wine to the screen as Magneto and the Captain did battle, "Show us what who you are little; are you Moses, deliverer of your people? Or are you truly Ahasver bringer of woe and desolation?"
Author's Notes: Ahasver aka the "Wandering Jew" is a from medieval legend, as Rip explains he was alledgedly mocked Christ as he carried the cross and was cursed to wander the Earth till the Second Coming. As a rule of thumb he was malevolent figure though it depends on the region. He was used heavily Nazi Antisemitic propaganda and was considered one of the inspirations for both Randall Flagg and Count Dracula.
My goal was to convey what twisted bunch of bastards the Nazis were, not offend anyone. World War Two and the Holocaust were horrors rivaling anything found in fiction or mythology and we all owe the soldiers from all nations who brought down Hitler's Hell on Earth our deepest thanks.