Notoriously Nefarious- The Rise of a Neu Reich

by Sergio Black

  “Yes- yes sir. Lisa- Lisa Ann escaped.” The smile that taunts $chadenFreude’s lips fades hard like a devastating collision.

  “You mean, you let her get away!? A Seventh Savior.” The Mad Doctor has never been so terrified in his life as he is in this moment, for he has the feeling with $chadenFreude, the slightest disappointment equals a slow death. $chadenFreude further digs his purple Sinatonium nails into Andrew’s shoulder and a burning cold floods the Mad Doctor’s skin, freezing the slick sweat underneath his clothing. The Mad Doctor groans lowly as frostbite begins to take hold like an onslaught of repetitive hail. This is unfortunate news.

  “I’m beginning to feel our faith in you has been misplaced. One good deed does not trump a failure like that. We have given you the title of Chief of Propaganda for one reason and one reason alone... To do our bidding!” $chadenFreude’s anger triggers a shortage of control, and an icy chill sweep to the tips of the Mad Doctor’s sleeve cuffs, creating an ice-cold pain that numbs his wrist. “Doctor, do you know what happens to a racehorse that stops performing?” Andrew’s eyes tremble.

  “Yes. Termination.” $chadenFreude presses his nails further, now piercing through Andrew’s thick coat, it slightly cuts the surface of his skin. The Mad Doctor is no longer capable of holding back the ghastly welp that hides in his lungs. GWAH! $chadenFreude laughs at the predictable outburst.

  “Ja’! And there it is. I wondered how long you would be capable of hiding your pain. Word of advice, Doctor, don’t be that horse.” $chadenFreude releases his grip and puts the tip of his bloody fingertip to his lips and licks the wet blood away. “Ja’. So sweet you are. Let me show you something very special. Something I like to call, Body Psionics.” $chadenFreude puts his hand in front of Andrew’s face then contorts his wrist in an incomprehensible way, the bones begin to pop and are on the verge of cracking. Andrew can feel the sharp pain span through his hand.

  “AHHH! AHHH! AHHH!” Andrew tries to flail his feet in an attempt to run away but his shoes are still frozen to the floor. Quickly he raises his hand and can see that while $chadenFreude dismantles his own wrist, it simultaneously devastates his own. “Please stop! Please, I will do whatever you wish! Please!” The loud shuffling of feet vibrates the floor, and $chadenFreude is interrupted from his euphoric jostling by an abrupt banging on the penthouse door. The Sicherheitspolizei-Team that stood guard downstairs were assigned to the Mad Doctor’s protection detail since the Lisa Ann debacle. $chadenFreude leans in closely until he and Andrew are neck and neck.

  “Well well, now. How rude, Doctor. Why don’t we let our guests partake in this conversation since they are so eager to interrupt our business dealings.” $chadenFreude smiles and the doors finally shatter open at his will and 5 members of the N.S.W.T. stomp through the penthouse entrance. $chadenFreude smiles and shifts his deadly stare to the uninvited guests, swiping his left hand through the air with a small curtsy like a courteous host.

  “Welcome!” The Sicherheitspolizei are confused and their body language shows it.

  “How did you get in here? Let the Doctor go and we will let you live,” No.1 quips. $chadenFreude turns his head, staring at the side of Andrew’s face.

  “Hear that, Doc, they’ll let me live. Oh joy. I can’t wait to make it out of here with my life.” $chadenFreude Phantom Phorms into a thicket of ash that leaves behind a black handprint on the right shoulder of Andrew’s peacock coat. $chadenFreude appears without warning and stands behind the Silver Team... “Ja’. Hello, boys.” The scratchy voice resonates to all corners of the room. Black ice creeps from beneath $chadenFreude’s purple Melvin and Hamiltons, the ice transitioning to a wet mist, creates a dozen or so frosty hands that creep across the marble floor with rapid brutality, encasing the Silver Team in Hell’s burning ice from the calves down. The tall, pretty boy Superior dons' purple eyeliner, a purple monocle, 3-piece purple leather suit with 100’s of tiny swords crossing shields, Nazi adornments hanging from both shoulder and breast. On his head sits an SS General’s cap tilted sideways with peppermint oil slicking back his purple hair. $chadenFreude smiles and laughs.

  “Ja’, gentlemen. Can any of you tell me the meaning of my name?” $chadenFreude searches the faces for confirmation of ignorance. The members look to each other and give a look of uncertainty. No.1 nervously speaks for the group.

  “Merciful?” $chadenFreude looks at their faces, evaluating their lesser intelligence.

  “You want to know one of my few pet peeves that still amazes me about Superiors? Most of you hold yourselves to such high regard. Because you work for the N.S.W.P., you all think you’re the pinnacle of Superiority, thinking you’re so interesting and intelligent. But the majority of you are so boring it hurts. And you have a baser IQ that even humans can rival. You’re all bloody disgusting creatures, fucking and shucking with non-pure bloodlines. I expect humans to act like animals, but you should have held yourselves to higher standards. If I had it my way, I would torture every single one of you for all eternity. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure! Now, be respectful and I may let you live. Ja’, you want to keep living, right?” $chadenFreude searches their terrified faces and all of them nod agreeingly. $chadenFreude has no intention of letting them live but takes pleasure in tormenting them with the promise of survival. $chadenFreude glowers, “Gut, in other words, good.”

  $chadenFreude Phantom Phorms into an ashy blizzard, leaving black soot by the Mad Doctor’s doorway, reappearing behind Andrew, he stands upright, extending every inch of his lean 6ft 2 frame. “No mistakes this time. Or you’ll end up like your lap dogs over there.” $chadenFreude smiles and raises his manicured hand next to the Mad Doctor’s cheek and snaps his fingers. The demoniacal hands clamber up his security detail, the instant touch freezes their whole bodies into hunks of human ice cubes, fore they the chance to bawl. The N.S.W.P. Headquarters begins to tremble. The ruthless hands commences to squeeze the compressing ice compacts and pulverizes with tremendous force, shattering the Silver Team into thousands of dark jaded icicles. $chadenFreude opens his hand and thrusts it forward, the crystals shake then fly to his center point and up his sleeve, wrapping around his body like a coat of armor. $chadenFreude’s eyes aglow plum purple.

  “Ahhh. I needed that, Herr Doctor.” He draws close to the Doctor’s ear and nips the top portion like a playful dog. “I love our little encounters. Do not fail again. And don’t think to run to your little hideout downstairs, I promise you won’t make it outside of this room.” The Mad Doctor freezes as the words leave his icy lips, now realizing his secret is no longer a secret.

  “You mean you know about my bunker?” $chadenFreude laughs deeply.

  “We know everything you have in your trophy room. The Scythe, Samuel’s Weapons, the Sabbatical Wand, the Book of Fate and the Old Tableaux. More importantly Lisa Ann’s spear. You can keep them for now, the Dark Shepherd feels they’re safe in that little room of yours. But just remember, there isn’t a single thing we don’t know about your life or what you have… We have Agents loyal to the Order all over the world who tell us everything. No more failures will be tolerated from anyone, understood?”

  The Mad Doctor nods in agreement, “Yes, sir, but before you go, I called you here because I need help finishing Eduard Wirth’s-” $chadenFreude interrupts by putting both hands on the Mad Doctor’s shoulders. The Mad Doctor has trouble letting go of his words to form a formal request of the division’s needs. $chadenFreude stretches his purple hand across the Mad Doctor’s body and reaches inside his peacock coat, pulling out a small vial he holds up. The gold elixir inside sparkles and moves with the consistency of molten metal.

  “A parting gift, Doctor. We call it Devil’s blood. Our Dark Shepard has perfected Wirth’s formula in his own tricky way. He wants to expand operations soon. The N.F.D.A. will approve this cure and it will be mass produced into food and water throughout the U.S., just as an experiment. We are curious to see its effects if it will bring out the worst of even the best
people, Humans or Superiors. Ja’. Then this operation will be a success. But firstly, we need you to make some calls to inform law enforcement that anything marked with the Devil’s Triage is to pass through with no inspections. We don’t care who you have to harass, but get it done, got it? This batch in my hand is a special potion, you’ll be stronger than most and keep a sense of freewill, only giving in to those who have impeccable social standing.”

  The Mad Doctor turns his head, talking over his shoulder. “When do I take it?” $chadenFreude laughs.

  “Oh Doctor, you’re a clever beaver. You’ll know when the time is right.” The Mad Doctor nods and takes the vial, slipping it into his coat.

  “But wait, before you go. You’re also a NAZI?” $chadenFreude laughs at this.

  “Why, of course. HE propagated the war to fill our lust for blood. Side note, we were bored. HE loves a good mass slaughter every now and then. Those were the glory days. But enough with the questions and reminiscing. Alas, Herr Doctor, a small parting gift because I sort of like you, but make no mistake, this will not happen again!” $chadenFreude snaps his fingers, and the Mad Doctor’s hand cracks back into place, fixed as if nothing had ever been injured.” With those last words, $chadenFreude $ickFreak morphs to black thunder ash and takes to the night sky, leaving dark soot in his place, that outlines 666. The Mad Doctor whips around and searches the dark balcony... nothing. It was as if $ickFreak had never been there, with the exception of the black stain. The Mad Doctor takes a few seconds to catch his breath and slumps forward in his chair, then picks himself up and jabs the black Halagrim that had thawed under the heat of his hand.

  “This is Andrew Rush. I need to speak with the President, identify number 666…”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  OUR CHILDREN ARE OUR LEGACIES

  Lisa Ann squats close to the foliage, to the point of sitting down and watches through the sliding glass door. She sees the Mad Doctor and not one, but three, Ordnungspolizei Squads and one Sicherheitspolizei Team walking through her blue home, tossing drawers, and ransacking through anything that isn’t nailed to the floor. Lisa Ann’s mother attempts to struggle and is manhandled by No.2 before a loud crack sinks her to the floor.

  “Sit down, you fucking bitch or you’re going to get it the worst!” Sophia puts her hand over her cut, bleeding lip and stifles the cry that tunnels up her throat. The Mad Doctor walks around the living room and stares at the pictures that hang to blue walls with appalling interest. “Ahh, even as a little girl, Lisa Ann was beautiful. So flawless. So, so precious. Our children are our legacies. The thing that keeps surviving after we have gone. If we are lucky, our children will outlive us.” The Mad Doctor picks up a silver frame that has dancing dogs ornamented on the outside. Inside the picture frame is a polaroid of Lisa Ann kneeling beside a black and white spotted husky. The Mad Doctor holds the frame in his hands and caresses the picture like he was living an intimate fantasy.

  “Ahh, Lisa Ann was just as pretty back then as she is now. I mean, c’mon, dad, I mean with a looker like that, must have driven the boy's boners bonkers. Lol, try saying that three times fast.” The Mad Doctor licks the cold glass encasing the picture, then throws it to the hardwood floor and savagely stomps the frame beneath his Oxfords until it lies in shambles, the flagrant disrespect and rage making it obvious to Lisa Ann’s parents something has gone terribly wrong. The Mad Doctor licks both palms and fixes his pronounced widow’s peak that keeps flapping in front of his eyes. Looking to his chest, he drops his decaying hands and sets about fixing the red tie that had skewed out of place.

  “My mistake, folks. You have no idea why I am here. As you can see, this is not your average house call. You see, your daughter viciously attacked me and has run off with one of my very, very, valuable assets. Were you aware that your daughter is a Superior?” Trevor and Sophia look at each other, baffled and speechless. Sophia clears her throat and regains her composure.

  “That’s impossible. If our daughter were one of those abominations we would know, she is 27 years old for gosh sakes. We would know something that vital to our daughter’s wellbeing. She is and always will be a loyal NAZI. Her fidelity lies with the Order and the Neu Regime, as well as you.” The Mad Doctor stuffs his hands into his pockets and laughs at their naivety, then turns his study to the pictures of Lisa Ann that sit on an oak shelf.

  He talks over his shoulder, saying, “Oh, what you folks don’t know. It’s not that I don’t believe you, because I do. Such a shame too, you fine citizens have supported the Anti-Superior movement your whole life and have really sought to condemn them. You see, Lisa Ann is very unique indeed. She is without a doubt very powerful and I have only seen a small portion of her power.” The Mad Doctor spins around, raising his hand to eye level, using his thumb and index finger to emphasize the word ‘small.’ Trevor stares at the Mad Doctor with growing anger.

  “You know what you’re accusing my daughter of? It’s literally treason. She would be executed if caught. You better choose your next words wisely, bud, or better yet, why don’t you take your leave before I have your ass thrown in the brig…” The Mad Doctor laughs at the threat and looks to the teams that stand around him and they all begin to laugh together.

  “Hmmm. We’ll see, folks. Lisa Ann is no longer essential to my work. I don’t need Lisa Ann to do anything. So, in turn, I no longer... need you unharmed. I just need you alive. But the fact remains, she’s too powerful to be out in the world. I just ache at the thought of ripping them clothes off and seeing what’s under the hood. Motivates me to strap her to one of my tables and dissect her like a rat!” Trevor pulls Sophia closer to his chest.

  “Over my dead body, even if what you say is true, I love my daughter, and she’s my little girl.” The Mad Doctor walks forward and leans close to Trevor’s face.

  “You are in no position to be challenging my will.” The Mad Doctor smirks and focuses on Sophia. Before he grinds his teeth in a rodent fashion. “If you don’t hand your daughter over to me, my guys and I are going to torture then gang rape your beautiful wife. Sophia tries to fight her womanly nature, but begins to breakdown and sob, thinking about the disgusting, vile acts she has no doubt Andrew and his associate killers would violate her in the most humiliating of disgusting ways. She knows Andrew’s reputation all too well and had pleaded and begged Lisa Ann not to take an apprenticeship at the N.S.W.P. for fear that something of this nature would happen. The Mad Doctor caresses Sophia’s cheek and moves the honey blonde hair that is matted to her wet cheeks behind her ear. “My dear, don’t cry. We will be gentle. At first.” Sophia cries and pulls her face away from the Doctor’s reach.

  The Mad Doctor stands up straight and walks back to the oak shelf and rests his elbow against the wood, lounging on the smooth panel, facing Trevor and Sophia. “How does it feel to know your daughter turned out to be the people you have grown to hate so much?” Trevor hawks loudly and spits a loogie on the Mad Doctor’s face. Andrew Rush chuckles and wipes the brownish gooey phlegm from his face then jams his fingers in his mouth. The Mad Doctor smacks his lips loudly. “Mmm, interesting. I taste, I taste fear.” Andrew Rush looks to the Sicherheitspolizei, then nods his head toward Trevor. “Start with him first.”

  No.1 walks over to Trevor and rips Sophia out of his arms and forces him to kneel. The Mad Doctor looks down at Trevor and laughs. “Oh, you shouldn’t have done that! But you know what, I am glad you did!” The Mad Doctor looks up at No.1 who stands beside Trevor and nods his head. No.1 walks in front of Trevor and tears off his silver glove then places his hands-on Trevor’s head...

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ASS IS KICKED: NEFARIOUS GETS A BEATDOWN!

  Nefarious wakes up with drumming temples and a migraine that pounds behind his retinas. He slowly prys his eyes open just enough to not be noticed and twirls his eyeballs around the room that is being reinforced while two Red Teams and one White Team stand guard. Nefarious lays still and closes his eyes as he attempts to call out
to Winsor, to no avail. Nefarious holds his eyes closed and bethinks to the early days of his training, trying to remember anything that would be useful in his dire situation…

  Nefarious stands in silence and admires the uniform Winsor stitched for his father. The one-piece suit is edgy and stylish looking, with a mix of post-apocalyptic appeal. The hooded uniform has a shawl that drapes above the Raven inlaid to the chest, and wraps around Nefarious’ neck like a thin scarf that could also be used to mask Nefarious’ identity on more covert journeys. The boots he wears rise and stop just below his ankles and are held together by various Sinatonium buckles.

  Once dressed, Nefarious walks through the tunnel that leads back to the entrance of the cavern where Winsor Magnus and the wolves cuddle together, wheezing loudly. Nefarious scoffs at this sight and walks to the edge of the cave’s drop off, then stares at the forest floor that is several hundred meters down. He sits down at the cliffs’ mouth and watches the sunrise climb over the shadows of the dense forest. Nefarious thinks to himself in silence as he stare at the earth’s ethereal beauty. ‘The old man said, I begin my training. Like he could really help me. I could break that limp fool without a second thought. I think of myself as lower than nothing, and see everything else as lesser than me, so what does that make them?’ Nefarious looks back at Winsor Magnus who twitches and rambles in his sleep about things Nefarious doesn’t quite understand. Dismissing his gibberish, he focuses his mind to the surrounding forest. ‘I’ll give the old fool some credit, his intelligence rivals Killian’s own wisdom. And for that reason alone, he remains useful to my purpose…’

  Several more minutes pass, and Winsor Magnus coughs and blows raspberries as he wakes up youthful, no doubt rested. Winsor stretches his arms and begins to scale over the Everest of furry wolf mounds that sleep like there were not a care in the world. Winsor touches the cavern floor and immediately bends over, touching his toes before he walks to where Nefarious sits. “Beautiful view, isn’t it?” Makes you think how small we are. Nefarious looks out of the corner of his eyes and zones in on Winsor.