Origins of the Prime

by Christopher Vale

  The crowd had already begun to clear after the gunfire had echoed through the air so losing her might be difficult, but it did make it easier for Arnulf to move through it. He noticed an alley to the right and darted inside, running to the end and then turning a quick left. He had lied to Alena earlier when he said he did not know the city well. The fact was, he knew Santiago better than he had ever known Berlin, having walked every inch of it over and over, to be prepared for a day such as this—when the Nazi-hunters found him to drag him back to be tried for war crimes, and he had to escape. So many of the people he had known had already been captured, many of them executed. He knew his record during the war would not play well with the tribunals. Of course, he did have an ace up his sleeve. He had information that they would most likely be willing to exchange his life for.

  The question was, however, who was Alena working for? He knew he did not want to be captured by the Russians. That would be the worst. In the back of his mind his ultimate escape plan had been to walk into the American embassy and turn himself in if he ever felt the Russians or Israelis were getting too close. The Americans knew how to treat a man like him. Several of his former comrades were having very successful careers in the United States. You just needed valuable information to trade and Arnulf certainly had that.

  Arnulf was not ready to turn himself in yet. Alena might not be working for anyone. She might be doing this on her own. Her own personal vendetta against him burning bright inside her for all of these years. Arnulf ran through the city streets. He knew exactly where he was going. He owned an interest in a pub not far away. German pubs had become very popular in South America over the years and he did quite well with it. He made his way there as quickly as possible.

  Arnulf reached the pub and glanced back over his shoulder one last time before swinging the door open and darting inside. He slammed the door closed behind him before turning and locking it. Arnulf spun back around to face the pub. It was too early for most patrons to begin drinking and there were only three occupants. All three worked for him and all three were fugitives like him.

  “A Slovakian girl is after me,” he said and the men leapt to their feet, their eyes wide with excitement and fear. “If she comes in, kill her.”

  The men nodded, understanding full well the only reason a “Slovakian girl” would be after Arnulf. They each drew pistols as Arnulf made his way through the bar and into the back office where he locked the door. He walked around the desk and fell exhausted into the soft cushions of his office chair. He reached into his coat, drew his pistol and waited.

  He didn’t have to wait long. Soon, there was a loud crash followed by gunfire. Lots of gunfire. Too much gunfire. “Kill her!” he shouted to no one. Suddenly, the gunfire ceased and he heard footsteps tapping along the wooden floorboards toward his office. There was a light knock on the door and Arnulf aimed his pistol at it. “W-who’s there?” he stammered through dry lips. When there was no answer Arnulf assumed it was the girl and fired a couple of rounds through the door. He waited in silence, staring at the door, his pistol still trained upon it, and unsure of what to do next.

  Suddenly, the wall behind him burst forward, knocking Arnulf across the desk in a shower of boards, splinters and debris. Arnulf turned and looked up to see a mountain of a man stepping through the giant hole in the wall, entering his office from the outside.

  Arnulf scrambled to his feet. He pointed the pistol at the giant before him, but the man grabbed his wrist and squeezed tightly, the bone nearly snapping before Arnulf dropped the gun. Then the man reached down and wrapped his massive hand around Arnulf’s neck and throat, lifting him up into the air with one arm.

  “Hello, Herr Colonel,” the mountain smiled at him.

  “Colonel, you remember my brother, Alexi,” he heard Alena ask from behind him. “Of course, you called him Gerd. You helped make him into a killer. Do you remember that? Do you remember that day in Berlin, Colonel?” Alena hissed. “For your sake, I hope he didn’t take to your instruction, because I want you alive…for now.”

  Arnulf saw Alexi smiling giddily like a child with a new toy, just as he lost consciousness from lack of oxygen and everything went black.

  Chapter 5

  Washington, D.C.

  1965

  The sun shone bright over the urban combat training facility. Tom Flemming gave Axel and Rolf a little wink. The twin brothers had grown quite close to Tom since he and Professor Hayes had rescued them from the Nazi genetics facility twenty years ago. Tom not only felt sympathy for Axel and Rolf, but also a genuine fondness and had taken it upon himself to act as a sort of older brother to them, always eager to help whenever he could. While life was certainly improved from their cold, sterile existence in Germany, their childhood had still been extremely unusual. Lots of children grew up without knowing their parents, but few other orphans were the products of genetic experimentation. Like many orphans, Axel and Rolf were raised by the government, but not in the normal way. While most of the government’s wards were considered “burdens of the state,” Axel and Rolf were considered assets. Very special, genetically enhanced assets. Thus, Tom did everything he could to make their childhood as normal as possible. He and Professor Hayes had taken them to museums, ballgames, and parks. They had gone camping and fishing and learned to play sports. Tom even bought Axel his first beer.

  Of course, Tom served as more than a mentor and friend. He was also charged by the government to facilitate their training and turn Axel and Rolf into agents for the United States. After all, while the U.S. government’s methods were less barbaric and more considerate than the Germans’, the truth was that they had the same interest in Axel and Rolf that the Nazis did—as super soldiers.

  The desire to create super humans through modern science was nothing new. Prior to World War II, eugenics, as it was widely known then, was a fast-growing scientific field. However, following the Nazi brutality and Hitler’s attempts to engineer a genetically superior race, the idea of eugenics was no longer socially acceptable and the science more or less disappeared from public view. It did not go away, however. The desire to create super humans burned as hot as ever, especially when it had been discovered that the Nazis had actually been successful.

  From a strategic military perspective, the development of genetically enhanced super soldiers was necessary for victory in the Cold War. If the Soviets had super soldiers, and there was no reason to believe they were not developing their own, then the U.S. needed them as well. If the Soviets did not have super soldiers then the U.S. having them would give Uncle Sam an advantage. Thus, following the war the President formed the Clandestine Scientific Operations Service or CSOS as it was more commonly known around Washington. The CSOS was a secret offshoot of the OSS that had somehow maintained its independence when the OSS morphed into the Central Intelligence Agency. Their stated mission was to ensure that the United States remained scientifically ahead of the Soviet Union in the postwar scientific frontiers, and to use that scientific advantage to defeat the Communists. In reality, they primarily analyzed intelligence on the Soviet’s scientific achievements provided to them by various military branches and intelligence agencies.

  After twenty years, the funding for the CSOS had slowed to a mere trickle. So far the office had not had a mission and Congress and the President were starting to wonder if they ever would. With the CIA and other spy agencies demanding more and more funding to fight the Communist threat worldwide, it was becoming harder and harder to justify the CSOS and there had been talk that the CIA might absorb it. Not wanting to lose his job, CSOS Director Ian Johnson decided to use the only real trump card he had—his super humans. Axel and Rolf had been trained for clandestine operations for years and Ian tasked Tom with proving that a team of superheroes, as Tom called them, could be used effectively for special missions.

  Tom had suggested to the director that perhaps demonstrating what Axel and Rolf could do by showing off their abilities, would loosen the purse strings
a bit. After all, it had been years since anyone outside of the CSOS or CIA had actually witnessed the brothers’ powers. Ian agreed and made the arrangements, billing this as a demonstration in the next generation of warfare. A frontier that the United States, thanks to the CSOS, was on the forefront.

  Now Tom stood with Axel and Rolf in the middle of a fake town used to train soldiers, police, and federal agents in urban combat. Fifty yards away was a crowd of Congressmen, military personnel, intelligence personnel and representatives from the White House, all eager to see what these so-called “super humans” could do.

  “You two ready?” Tom asked Axel and Rolf. Axel glanced over at his brother.

  “You okay?” Axel asked Rolf. While Axel understood the purpose for this demonstration, he had obvious concerns for Rolf’s state of mind. The last time they gave a demonstration of their powers to such a large group of government officials with this much pressure on them was in Berlin. Things had gone badly.

  “I’m okay,” Rolf smiled. Much to Axel’s relief, Rolf wasn’t making the connection between this demonstration and the one in Berlin.

  Axel turned to Tom and nodded to him. Tom glanced back at Ian who was standing with the crowd of VIPs and gave the director a thumbs up, signaling that they were about to begin. Tom watched Ian say something to the observers before he returned the thumbs up.

  “Let’s do this,” Tom said with a confident smile and wink to Axel and Rolf. The three of them crouched down behind a vacant concrete building. Their mission for this demonstration was to assault a building across the street. Plastic targets, know as Ivans and shaped like the upper bodies of enemy soldiers stood on the grounds between them and their objective. More Ivans were set up in the target building itself. Tom carried a dummy rifle and would not actually fire any rounds. He was there to lead the team and act, more or less, as a prop. Axel and Rolf would take down all of the targets, and hopefully do so in a manner that would impress the onlookers.

  Tom peeked around the corner of the building as if actual Russian soldiers were waiting to kill them. He turned to the brothers who crouched behind Tom, against the wall of the building, and waved for Axel to assault. Axel stood and in a bit of theatrics that would make any urban combat instructor fuming mad, ran out into the middle of the “town” and dove into a somersault, rolling to a kneeling position and sending a bolt of blue energy at each of the four Ivans placed in front of the building. The Ivans flew backward with the force of each bolt.

  Axel then fired bolts of lightning from his hands taking out the Ivans in the windows and on the roof top. He turned to Tom and Rolf with an arrogant smile. “All clear. Rolf, open the door!” he shouted.

  Rolf stood up and hurried around the corner at a trot, a toothy grin spread across his face. Tom peeked around the corner to watch Rolf burst through the door. Rolf lowered his shoulder as he ran, but unfortunately, in his excitement, he turned back to smile at Axel and missed the door. Rolf’s body slammed into the concrete wall instead, plowing a hole right through and into the building.

  Axel shot a wide-eyed glance at Tom before they both ran to check on Rolf. He appeared to be fine as he stood up and dusted himself off. “Holy cow, Rolf, you nearly took down the entire building,” Tom said as he suppressed a chuckle.

  “Sorry, Tom,” Rolf said sheepishly.

  “I think it helped more than anything,” Axel said and motioned back to the crowd of dignitaries. They were applauding ecstatically. Ian was beaming. Axel patted Rolf on the arm. “They think you blew through the wall on purpose, so let’s not tell them you missed the door, okay?”

  Rolf smiled down at Axel. “Okay.” He was obviously embarrassed, but happy he did not ruin the demonstration. He knew that it meant a lot to Tom and Ian that it go well. He wanted to make them happy.

  The three men stepped back outside, through the giant, Rolf-sized hole in the wall, and dusted the pulverized cement from their clothes. They smiled as Ian led the party of dignitaries toward them. People began to shake each of their hands. They were patted on the back from all sides. Axel heard several boastful remarks such as “Wait ‘til the Russkies see this,” and “Ya’ll may win the Cold War for us.”

  The entire event was largely a blur to Axel and Rolf, but one thing was certain, they had done their job and impressed the people Ian and Tom needed them to impress.

  “So, what do you call this team?” one Senator asked.

  “What do you mean, Senator?” Ian replied.

  “Don’t they have some sort of codename? The CIA would have given them some kind of crazy acronym.” the Senator said to laughs.

  Ian began to shake his head when Tom blurted out, “Blitzkrieg.”

  Axel shot him a sideways glance. He and Tom had discussed code names before, with Tom loving the name Blitzkrieg, but Axel felt a little uncomfortable about it. Unfortunately, he had never offered a better suggestion.

  “Blitzkrieg?” the Senator asked.

  “As I’m sure the Senator is aware, in German Blitz means ‘lightning’ and Krieg means ‘war.’”

  The Senator smiled. “Yes, I fought the Blitzkrieg,” he said.

  “And these super humans were the product of German experimentation,” a Colonel added.

  The Senator smiled. “So he’s Blitz,” he said as he pointed at Axel, “and the big one is Krieg?”

  “Exactly,” Tom smiled. It took every ounce of Axel’s willpower to keep from rolling his eyes.

  “I love it!” the Senator exclaimed and all the other dignitaries agreed. In fact, even Axel couldn’t help but smile. The excitement was contagious and with the adrenaline still pumping through his body, Axel decided he needed to celebrate.

  ***

  Axel stood close to the woman beside him. She slipped her arm into his and leaned against him and he wondered if she did so for support. Earlier that evening she had taken him to a beatnik club and had quite a bit to drink. Of course, everyone at the club simply stared at Axel, the square in the suit. No matter, he had attended with the most beautiful girl in the club, and now she was in his elevator coming home with him.

  The doors opened and they stepped out. Axel kept an arm around her waist as he led her down the hall. She reached behind him and squeezed his butt. He laughed and then turned and pushed her up against the wall as he kissed her deeply. She kissed him back, aggressively shoving her tongue deep into his mouth. He loved these modern girls. They eliminated any need for a romantic seduction scene.

  He pulled back as she held his bottom lip between her teeth for just a moment before releasing it. “Come on,” he whispered in her ear, “my apartment is right over there.” He took her hand and led her toward his room as he pulled the keys from his pocket. He found the correct one and slid it into the lock as his date moved in between him and the door, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips against his.

  “I want you,” she whispered seductively to him.

  “Well, I promise not to put up too much of a fight,” he smiled as the door swung open. He pushed her inside and let the door swing closed behind him as they kissed and groped one another. They were too into the mood to notice that they were not alone in the apartment.

  “Good evening,” a voice said, causing both of them to jump, the woman releasing a squeal, and the lights in the apartment flickering along with Axel’s nerves.

  “Tom!” Axel exclaimed, when he recognized the interloper. He was at once both relieved and annoyed to discover who it was. Tom sat in a comfortable high-backed chair, casually smoking a cigarette and staring at them, looking suave with his slick hair and expensive navy suit.

  Tom’s eyes rose to the lights which burned brightly once again, the full rush of electricity burning brightly in their bulbs. “Yes, it’s just me, old boy. Let’s not fry us all,” he said with a smile.

  “What are you doing here?” Axel asked as he narrowed his eyes at his friend. “I’m on a date.”

  Tom stood as he took a drag from his cigarette and then
stamped it out in an ashtray on the side table. “I can see that Axel,” he said with a wry smile, “but I was told to come find you. Why else would I be wasting such a nice evening sitting in your apartment?” Axel ignored the question. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Tom asked as he walked toward Axel and his date.

  Axel was frustrated but acquiesced. He looked at his date. “Jessica, this is Thomas Flemming from my office. Tom, this is my date, Jessica.”

  “A pleasure,” Tom said as he shook her hand lightly. “I am so very sorry for interrupting your evening, but I am afraid our boss…” he then leaned in as if conveying a secret to Jessica, “…you know—the President—needs Axel and me for a very important mission.”

  “Oh,” Jessica said, excitement clear in her voice. “What kind of mission?” she asked.

  Tom shook his head from side to side. “I am afraid I cannot say,” he told her.

  “Come on Jessica,” Axel smiled. “I’ll hail you a cab.” He took her by the arm and opened the door, but she shook her head.

  “It’s alright,” she said. “I am quite capable of hailing my own cab,” she said. She then stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him gently on the lips. “Call me later,” she said. “I’m not finished with you, yet.”

  Axel nodded. “Absolutely,” he smiled. She left with a flirtatious wink and he closed the door. He spun to face Tom who stood with his hands in his pockets.

  “I like her,” Tom said.

  “This had better be important,” Axel snapped.

  Tom smiled and slapped Axel on the shoulder. “Oh, it is, Axel. I promise.” He was smiling as excitedly as Axel had ever seen him. “Now, where is your brother?”

  Axel shrugged. “I assume he’s at the Home.”

  “Well, let’s go get him.”

  ***

  Director Ian Johnson sat at his desk at CSOS headquarters, sipping a glass of scotch as he read through a file. He was working yet another evening. He was not a stranger to it and his wife had been accustomed to having an empty house for years. Their children were grown and had left long ago. They were a typical high-powered Washington couple. He worked constantly and she lived a social high life, bouncing from party to party and fund raiser to fundraiser.