The Brotherhood were skilled not only in Ásatrú and combat, but they were also exquisite athletes with hearts of fury who obliterated all enemies without prejudice or mercy. Already, three of their best women had broken into the antique structure, one of which was the petite Swede who had just hung the confounded lookout from the castle wall. Two others were already working their way through the first and second level, respectively, to scout for the location of the Black Sun tyrant and her consorts.
Erika and her warriors entered the lower level of the building through the very chamber where Nina Gould had been kept. Like Nina, Erika noticed the next level technology of the locking system on the cells, but she had little time to investigate the amazing workings of the secret technology utilized by the order. It did, however, warn her of the level of security and technology kept inside the ancient walls of the fortress. Through the high hallway, where the floor’s watery surface reflected the ceiling in stark detail, they navigated their way according to the information Lockhart had presented.
, They spread like a quiet cancer throughout the building as the noise from the surrounding body of water and the whine of the gale masked their movement conveniently. In the kitchen one of the dark warriors found the medical doctor having sex with his assistant.
‘How convenient,’ she smiled as she drew her thin baton from her belt. Moving swiftly and silently towards the copulating Nazis, she flicked the steel baton, extending it to twice its length. The sound roused a moment’s attention in the assistant, but her lover obscured her view and shouted his vulgarities at her with a nauseating smirk. From behind his back, his assistant saw the woman’s fiery stare and slight grin just in time to see the skewering of the steel rod thrust right through them both. Her bowels burned from the sting of the cold bar.. From the assistant’s spinal cord, the point of the weapon protruded powerfully under the exuberant strength of the warrior and came to a sudden halt under her, lodged in the wood of the table. It split the wood, sending splinters around it.
The crunch of their collective bones under the swift stab of the unbreakable rod pleased the member of the Brotherhood, who waited sadistically for their panting to cease.
“How’s that for double penetration?” she chuckled heartily. As their bodies grew limp, she pulled the steel baton from them, stepping against the buttocks of the doctor to aid her in dislodging the weapon from the density of their raw flesh. Unceremoniously, she rinsed her steel and then she took an apple from the fruit basket on the table, taking a vigorous bite, and disappeared into the sunken darkness of the pantry.
On the upper floor, Erika swept the rooms one by one, finding nothing but a few barren chambers until the noticed the last door ajar, creaking as if it had just been bothered. Vigilant, she slowed down, rousing her hearing to listen beyond the escalating roar of the elements outside and distinguishing carefully between the noise of nature and the sound of mortal threat. Looking down the hallway behind her for any present danger, Erika elected to enter the suspicious room. There seemed to be no occupant and she briskly looked about for anything she could find that might be of importance.
The wild wind ripped the embroidered banners hanging on the walls, its urging reminiscent of the situation currently blooming within the old building. Like a symphony of doom, the continually flapping sound unsettled the intruder, making her immensely nervous. Erika never got nervous, especially in a martial capacity. She loved war; she reveled in battle and confrontation. Something did not feel right behind these enemy lines, though. Not one to be swayed by opinion or reputation, it was not the queen of this castle that had Erika tense, but the sudden realization that Lockhart may have lured The Brotherhood into an ambush. It was one of those thoughts similar to the state of panic dealt by ill-fated trust discovered too late. To her right, obscured partly under the large bed was a leather and iron trunk, big enough to hide a body in. Little did Erika know that this was precisely what it had previously been employed for. Next to it was a dented old World War II toolbox, once painted olive green from the remnants of color still left on the iron.
Consumed by curiosity and a need to educate herself in the manner of foe they were dealing with, Erika sank on her knees and grabbed the box quietly, hoping that her soldiers were still efficient in subduing Lita’s pawns. She flashed her eyes up to the whipping banners that made her feel deeply uncomfortable in the restlessness of the weather. To exacerbate matters, they were adorned with the repulsive symbol of the Black Sun Order she so despised. Erika felt utterly morose in the brooding silence Lita’s absence lent the room. The leader of The Brotherhood placed the iron box on the bed. Inside, she found yellow pages, tinted with rusty stains by age and they were all branded in letterheads from different Nazi societies — The Vril Society, the Thule Society, The Order of the Black Sun, and several lesser prominent factions of Himmler’s SS.
Among these documents, Erika discovered something that made her blood run cold in her veins. At the bottom of the pile, there was a folder containing medical records from a laboratory in Copenhagen and a birth certificate — July 27th, 1935, Gaelita Brunnhilde Røderic. In Danish and German, the different handwritten reports in dissolving blue ink noted that the mother of the female baby, an Icelandic national, was deceased and the father unknown.
Rain sprayed lightly onto the paper Erika was reading, imposing from the open windows between the angrily slapping wall banners. From the big faux trunk under the bed, a side panel came loose. Without a sound the panel was placed on the floor by a long slender arm. Gracefully, the hand curled around the side to facilitate a quiet exit. Thunder growled as the gale-swept loch grew more aggressive around the fortress, threatening to flood its banks within the hour. At the roar of the heavens, Erika was jolted back to reality and looked about her, but her presence was still undetected. What she discovered on the next page prompted her to cover her mouth with her hand in shock.
Lightning illuminated the awful sketches of anatomical modifications and the black and white photographs of the monstrous little girl. In the sheltered shadows under the bed a long pale leg emerged from the trunk, a bare foot flexing to find its grip while Erika stood reading merely inches away, unaware of her impending company.
A 10th birthday card from Josef Mengele fell from the collection of eugenic reports and medical notes and Erika knew at once that her adversary was not just a rich bitch with too much time on her hands. In fact, the redhead genius was not even fathered by normal means and was conceived for a purpose.
“Genetically altered? Skeletal modification… human growth hormone… neuro-mechanical adjustments to promote superior brain capacity… accelerated and sustained cell regeneration… what the fuck?” Erika whispered as she read through the medical observations of the various physicians working with Mengele and Himmler on this secret project. From what she thought she understood, being a layman at medical and psychological terminology, Erika found that Lita Røderic may or may not have been the product of Mengele’s most favored experiments: twins. Either that, since her German was extremely deficient, or Lita’s very biology ran on the principals of the phenomenon. Instead of being a twin, it appeared that binary fission took place as an agent of regeneration instead of duplication.
Erika shook her head.