Commitment - Predatory Ethics: Book II

by Athanasios

In their fertile lands the Parfaits, Catharae priests, lived to help the Catharae faithful, their Credentes. They roamed the Languedoc and Albigenese without trouble and were welcomed. The Catholic priests were treated with suspicion and pushed people away with hypocritical dogmas, preferring to demand obedience at the threat of damnation. Many Credentes were disgusted with the debauchery and impiety of some Catholic clergy and sought the solace that the Gnostic Catharae urged.

  Both Catharae and Catholics believed in Jesus; both were Christian. Yet the Roman Catholics tolerated nobody else. Wandering among his memories, Simon passed a few of the actual articles Jesus had held. One of His robes was beside the whip the Romans had used on Him. He passed some of the palms he kept when they got to Jerusalem. He still chuckled sometimes knowing this was commemorated by faithful each year. What passed for spectacle still amused him even after all these years. They were displayed beside the rock He prayed at the Gardens of Gethsemane. The hammer that drove the nails at His crucifixion was also there. He had not kept all these things over the millennia but found each individually over his long life. He could feel the Teacher’s presence on them because he had known this uniquely extraordinary man.

  The Mishpat’s teachings did not die with Him but were carried on to many lands and passed into the rest of the Roman world. The twelve apostles carried His words to others and inspired many more, among them Saul, a Diaspora Jew and Roman citizen who became enthralled. He saw Jesus as a sacrificed dying god like Dionysus and Mithra. He came to Jerusalem and within five years, Jerusalem was laid to waste and nearly all its inhabitants put to the sword. Almost two million people were killed in the systematic Roman retribution of the Jewish uprising. This near complete annihilation was repeated many times by the Roman Legions and their successors, the Roman Catholic Church.

  Simon was witness to it all and had long ago achieved calm in the face of Catholic intolerance. They always used their interpretation of Jesus as law and cited it to justify their enforcement with brutal and bloody consistency. As such, they had amassed many enemies who had also survived the centuries not least of which were the Dark Nobility.

  They were present as far back as Simon remembered and even incorporated some of the Merovingian line, descended from Mary and Ruth Magdalene. The Nobility were themselves descendants of Jesus’ followers. Their families carrying on their secrets and concocting the Crusades in order to retrieve treasure their ancestors buried beneath the ruins of Herod’s Temple in Jerusalem.

  These Rex Deus, the Holy Kings, had grown opposite the Catholics and kept pace with them, thwarting much of the complete world domination the Vatican and their Dominican, Jesuit and Templar bullies sought to enforce.

  If Simon had not distanced himself from all the centuries of brutality, he would not have survived. He wanted to continue because of the last connection he shared with his old friend. Ursus had told him that life was too important to be taken seriously. This still resonated with Simon more than seven centuries later.

  Until then Simon had believed in the Gnosis of God. Each person had their own path to follow and religion should show the way not lead it. He taught this in the churches of his ministry and later to those that made it Catharism. He taught to search for your separated self: God. You: Nous, searched for Ennoia. It was the reason love was such a powerful emotion. You find your Ennoia in others in various degrees. Most find it in their parents or in their children or friends. The degree Ennoia resides in each relationship shows the love you have for one another.

  In his long life Simon had only seen it in its complete form once. It was why Ursus and his Ennoia Natalie had been so precious to him. They proved his Gnosis. Simon saw it utterly confirmed by their love. He had seen clues to its veracity well before and since but never that complete.

  All the years Simon lived he had done so in secrecy and hidden from even those that held deception in the highest regard. He was tied into the various families of the Dark Nobility and was one of the few who knew all the Rex Deus. He moved about them with an ease nobody questioned. In organizations, societies, councils, and brotherhoods that operated on secrets and more secrets, mystery was only regarded with reverence. Most who encountered Simon thought him a high-ranking Nobleman maybe even a Great White Magician. He laughed when someone called him that because he had always been known as Simon Magus. How ironic to come full circle.

  He never took part in any of the ceremonies to their Nephilim or infernal masters, yet he consumed some of their worst. His appetite had matured to the point he only needed to feast with each season so he never attracted the attention he had millennia before. Simon preferred to drink only evil men and his association to the Dark Nobility gave him plenty of choices. The predators sometimes found out that something hunted them.

  He spent days and nights putting together the more memorable items from his Catharae days. He finally stopped and sat in a tasteful yet plush round sofa where he contemplated the things he arranged in preparation of meeting his old friend. Ursus and Natalie had been reborn into a young man in the farthest South America.

  Simon had followed his life closely. He watched with keen interest when the Dark Nobility, Nephilim, and their Luciferians were run ragged trying to find their Redeemer. Simon had not worried for Adam was Ursus and Natalie united, who achieved the hoped for peace Ursus told him about in the dungeon at Montfort.

  He had been looking forward to seeing Adam but decided not to. He was distracted by chronicles detailing a Nephilim plot to destroy the Catharae. They detailed Ursus joining the Catharae to ensure the Catholic regicide.

  If they were right, then Ursus killed a part of his soul when Natalie was taken from them all. He murdered the reality of Nous-Ennoia. Simon had been completely convinced that his long believed faith had been fulfilled in the love Ursus had for Natalie. Those chronicles said he betrayed Natalie, the Catharae, and Simon Magus, naming him personally. It went on to praise the betrayal and sacrifice the Beast made of himself for the Great Plan. Simon was crushed and could not believe it.

  Time: March 23rd, 1974, Buenos Aires, Argentina.

  Today was always special in the Hess family. All the transplanted Reichians celebrated it in the same way because it commemorated the Ermachtigungsgesetz of 1933 when the Reichstag gave power to the National Socialists in Deutschland. They passed the Enabling Act, which went on to dissolve the Reichstag and start the Third Reich. Everyone wore their best uniforms accessorized with family heirlooms worn in the Fuhrer’s ranks.

  Rolf Hess arched his heavy brows down and felt a surge of pride looking through the ordered ranks of the faithful. Tight, square phalanxes of four men deep, four across stood at attention. The damp cavern that they gathered in was illuminated by many a bare bulb reflecting off of their polished jack boots.

  They stood before a massive portrait of Adolph Hitler who looked on in what Rolf swore was profound approval. On either side of the portrait and before a massive podium were long banners of a field of red and white stripes with an updated swastika. The hall grew silent save for Rolf’s boots going closer to the podium at the center of the raised dais. He was so like his father that most gasped when they met him thinking the former Reichsfuhrer was come again. He had the thinning hair and heavy brows that met over startling blue eyes when he was confused or angry. The long aquiline nose seemed harsh, for his lips were thin and near slit of a mouth.

  Everyone in the hall, including Rolf was dressed in updated SS black. He was a man of rippled proportions whose lean, muscled form was rigid in rider’s pants with a thin blood stripe down both sides. He was clean-shaven, his dirty blonde, crew cut hair in stark contrast to the high collar of his immaculately tailored jacket. Blood piping trimmed its edges and four pockets. Cold blue eyes scanned the crowd and clasping his hands behind his back he launched into his sermon.

  “Fellow Reichians. We commemorate the hour of our deliverance with the Ermachtigungsgesetz of 1933 but we also commemorate the acquisition of the holy relics of 1956. The
Fuhrer’s remains were in the hands of the Bolsheviks and jealously guarded. With His guidance, His old Reichsfuhrer, my father, Rudolf Hess entered the KGB Headquarters and liberated them for their return to us, their rightful keepers.” This was an update of the usual rehashing of the events of 1933 when the Nazi party had taken over the German Parliament and ended the Weimar Republic. Many in the audience became excited at the new stories their esteemed leader was sharing with them.

  “My father did not stay in Spandau Prison as the world long believed. He was not without his own allies and within a decade of his imprisonment he came to our holdings here in Argentina.” He looked on through the crowd and saw nothing but attentive faces. “He was then responsible for the continuation of our movement and from the ashes of the Third Reich came our present, Final Reich. We have an exalted name to carry and we will not be found lacking. The First Reich lasted for a thousand years under the Teutonic Order and their Holy Roman Empire. The Second Reich burned brightly yet only for a short time with the Prussian Empire. The Third burned the brightest and would’ve eclipsed them had it succeeded.” At every mention of their near success Rolf fought back tears of frustration. They had been so close.

  “We honor their achievements every time we congregate with more than one of our number or when we show pride in our race and heritage. The world does not share our beliefs. In the Americas, the United Kingdoms, and even in our Deutschland wherever our kind come together we are persecuted like schvartze or juden.” Coiled rage shook Rolf’s face as he continued. “Yet we still come together. We cannot be stopped. Even The Lords of Hell admired our resolve to go on in the face of this overwhelming opposition.”

  Many in the audience turned to one another in confused discomfort but were quieted by steely stares that did not tolerate weakness. They didn’t understand this infernal reference. Rolf was familiar with this intolerance of weakness, and it had made him the man he was today. “These Lords of Hell, Nephilim, came to my father when I was but four and bade him sacrifice to them. They were Dark Nobility and wanted to recruit Third Reich survivors to their ranks. He refused to bow down before anyone but the Fuhrer. This adamant faith in the face of doom beyond mortal death gave them pause.” Those uncomfortable had mostly settled into their seats and began to be swayed by his sermon. “At their indecision Rudolf Hess, our Prophet, offered up this consideration to them. If they wanted to capture the hearts of evil men in the modern age, they should give them a newer evil.”

  Rolf looked about the crowd and saw a few had gotten up and were heading to the doors; he nodded to a few hidden brown-shirt security men and went on. “As they had not taken his soul my father continued to entrée them. Who else in recent history had even approached the brilliant evil of Adolph Hitler?” Some in the hall were insulted at the idea of their Fuhrer being evil. Whatever he’d done had been to sub-humans, hardly more than the animals they ate.

  “Do you know what they answered? Joseph Stalin.” A shockwave went through the assembled: the Bolshevik, communist brute. What an insult.

  Still others stood, not liking this turn of their little social club. Getting together and beating a few natives, juden, or schwartzs was a communal bonding experience; this talk of evil was very discomforting, very gauche.

  “They were answered by a cry straight out of Hell’s black ninth ring.”

  “Stalin!?!”

  “Stalin’s not good enough to throw pebbles at my shit! He killed out of greed and lust for power. His successes were nothing more than an over-achieving mobster. Mine were out of pure hate! I couldn’t abide living with those filthy vermin. If the Third Reich had gone for a thousand years, I could have rid this world of every sub-human.” More brown-shirts had come to the exits blocking them. Those that tried to leave were protesting their detainment and were met with fascist argument of fist or cudgel across the face and head. Protest soon stopped.

  “What audacity, who else could have struck out from Hell’s own heart like that? My father dropped to his knees in dread worship of his Fuhrer’s voice. He remembered its shrill command and was overjoyed to hear it once more.” He motioned for more brown-shirts to come through the ranks and take over vacated seats. “The Dark Nobility were justly impressed and summoned him forth like we will today.”

  There was further shock going through the crowd, but none got up to leave. They were all captivated by the sermon and only reacted to its excitement. Those who did were removed by the brown-shirts who then closed ranks by filling the vacated seats.

  “When our Prophet beheld his Fuhrer once more he kissed his feet. Among the Dark Nobility had been an Arch-Nephilim, Melusine Rothschild, who pronounced my father elevated from damned to favored apostle for his unflinching dedication. He would go forth and establish His Fuhrer’s worship.” Rolf continued intent on his missioned sermon.

  “His remains are enshrined in a gold cabinet beneath this podium. He is exulted like no other. There has never been a man damned by his life’s work who was then elevated to predator, a carnivore from cattle.”

  Some of the still seated black-shirts looked contemptuously at those that tried to leave. Rolf was happy with the night’s progress. He thought there would’ve been more dissenters but was pleased that they had just enough. Someone was looking out for them.

  “All who have kept their seats through this Revelation are Reichians of the first order. All true Teutonic Knights. Everyone of you has been tested, their lineage investigated and found to be of purest Aryan stock. Those who tried to leave showed their treachery at their refusal to listen to our most revered lessons. Pity. They will, however, be fitting sacrifices to the rebirth of our Fuhrer.” Silence met Rolf’s pronouncement. He had expected this and had allotted some pause in his sermon hoping for the help that came. He left some of his plans up to faith and was not disappointed.

  A voice that moved a nation to monstrous, collective acts on innocent and guilty rose from beneath the podium. None who earlier had doubted their senses clung to further skepticism. They threw it out when his unmistakable voice and charismatic power grabbed their attention and squeezed.

  “Who among you would not willingly give your life for our race? I did, and it has put me at the top of Hell itself! I stand beside fallen angels and contribute to the Great Plan with Azazel, Ba-al, and Lucifer.”

  Unnoticed by the rapt assemblage, three brown-shirts brought one of the dissenting black-shirts bound to his knees at Rolf’s feet. Two held the man down while the third handed Rolf a ceremonial SS dagger. Rolf sliced the man’s throat left to right, ear to ear, in an elegant arc ending dagger-point first directed at the crowd. The action was reflected and frozen forever in the victim’s eyes while the blood flowed like a fountain to soak the platform.

  He was left to flop onto his back while Rolf straddled his body and sliced the thorax from his pelvis to the earlier cut. Dipping his hands into the open cavity they come out holding the heart, kidney, and liver he placed reverently aside. He returned to the now unmoving form and with a few deft cuts removed the colon.

  The body was then taken out of view leaving a gory trail as mute evidence of what was done. A bloody altar heaped with similar gore was wheeled out and left just behind him. Rolf placed the still warm heart and organs on the altar. He sliced each in two while intoning an incantation.

  With these sacrifices we summon forth the newest of the Nephilim, the fiend Adolph Hitler.

  He is summoned to his faithful.

  The blood and souls of these pure Aryans call him forth.

  The blood and souls of the sub-humans, the cows call forth the newest carnivore.

  Our reverence is here to sustain him.

  We long to feel his dread approval for our loyal devotion.

  We call him to this hall upon the very stage from which he commanded the Ermachtigungsgesetz in 1933.

  Rolf was then lost in a trance. He chanted the incantation over and over and didn’t notice the change in the silence around him. There was only the soun
d of hundreds of rapt breaths before, but now it was the collective silence of those breaths held. He came out of his trance when he felt the weight of an approving hand fall on his shoulder.

  The Fuhrer had come to stand beside him. In his life Adolph Hitler wore the grey unadorned officer’s jacket, but in his rebirth there were rider’s pants and jackboots of the Final Reich replacing the older plain black slacks. The face was as the massive portrait behind him but on closer scrutiny seemed colder, with more venom, barely leashed hatred and intolerance.

  He cared only about the Final Reich and its members.

  He stood before the altar and breathed in the souls that were held in the organs upon it. Once finished, he was lost in its rapture until it came back to the souls still here. He was lost further in the terror and betrayal the dead felt just before their sacrifice. It was good to be the Fuhrer and to have such faithful souls.

  His souls.

  Promised and marked for him in Hell. Every one of these fine young men and women would be his to enjoy in eternity. There would be even more now that the Redeemer, The One had come.

  The Storm.

  It would make the Great War and its sequel, the Third Reich War seem like a bloody nose.

  The Second Coming but not for the Son of God.

  The Second Coming was evil’s chance.

  Fair was fair. This was their turn.

  “The pure men and women who for a brief time followed me and made the earth tremble would be proud of their sons and daughters here today. You are all Teutons strong and pure. I salute you!”

  At that utterance, his right hand rigidly flew up and out in a heil. It was answered instantly by the entire assembly with a booming…

  Siege Heil!

  It dwarfed any remembered from Nuremburg.

  The salute promised the renewed majesty of the First Reich when the Teutonic Knights ruled under the Holy Roman Empire. It hearkened back to the time when Rome was more than just the political machinations and intrigues of today’s Catholic Church. When Rome ruled and meant its Legions and its knights. The might of Rome now would return in the Legion of Hell and the knight would be reborn with the new Teutons of the Final Reich.