Children of Terra

~27 December 1935~ ~Embedded within the ranks~ ~Left-hand of Heinrich Himmler~ ~Gaap, veteran of the Anglo-Saxon Wars, lever of Inferno, the uncanny, mystic-master, slayer of Metile and the child~ Ecumenism. The semantic word itself denotes the harmonization of Christianity across the world. However, in connotation, the word can mean any synthesis of ideas. It is, in a sense, an antonym for the profession of an absolute idea above others. Gaap, naturally, did not care for such pointless thinking. Instead, he was admiring himself in the mirror. God damned, the uniform fits so beautifully. He couldn't stop the insane gleam in his demonic-yellow eyes as he looked at the immaculate black, the red armband, the boots, the regalia of the Party adorning his suit. Taking the hat of the Schutzstaffel with its Totenkopf and fixing it to his white hair, Gaap almost blushed at himself.       Gruppenfuhrer. Lieutenant General special commission. Second to Himmler himself. Kriminalrat. Special investigator and liaison to the underground Thule Society-Schutzstaffel Division -- T.S.S. Gaap had come such a long way since those dreary days in Inferno. In the past, he was always in the shadows of his brothers, always treated like an infant. No more. Who knew the seeds they had planted among the Goetia all those centuries ago would lead to such a movement? Did Bael-Beelzebub and Lucifer see that far ahead? The people back then had taken the existence of demons as the confirmation of pretty much any faith, and such pride in their history was trifle for the Low Lord Lucifer to twist into personal needs.       Gaap was a direct follower of the Lord of Pride, clearly the best choice among the 7 Arches; and willingly leapt at the chance to operate topside in service of the First Fallen. Himmler believed everything Lucifer had said. The foundation of the Thule Society, the mysticism of the world, and the origins of the Germanic Race. Gaap thought it was complete trite-shit, until operative Karl Kroenen discovered direct evidence of another plane of existence. Then there were the crystals in Isenstadt. The medallion. Gaap couldn't believe his own eyes when he plane-shifted for the first time. The Nacht Sonnehad borne into his mind, making him feel as though he gained and lost something simply being there. Really the Schwarze Sonne, but unimportant. How much did Lucifer really know?       Gaap never gave much thought about how old the Light-Bringer really was until he read what the Greeks thought of the First and Last Light. Lucifer was a participant in the Gigantomachy. That would have been at least 5500-6000 years ago at minimum, before Troy. Was Lucifer being a straight-shot when he called himself the First Angel? It was things like that which made Gaap bend his knee willingly.       He strode from his study, opening the oaken double doors to a hallway lined with SS police. They snapped to attention. He swagger stepped in true fashion making down the hallway, his SS dagger swaying from scabbard in time. Smiling to himself, he began his task for the day: an official visit to the mining site in Isenstadt, where the mines for Nachtsonne crystals existed. Gaap somewhat hated leaving Berlin. The magia of Lucifer's Pride was so thick here it felt safe, impenetrable. Not like he would do anything. The latest reports from Inferno said the impotent duke was in America, hiding in the dead southwest like the dog he was. To think they actually feared a do-nothing limp dick. Gaap made a note to beat Vassago next time he visited.       Getting into a nice Mercedes-Benz SSK, white paint of course, he signaled for the driver to begin the ride. A day if they didn't stop. The monster inline-6 roared as they rolled out from the main office in Berlin. Germany had become a most beautiful thing under the new management, even if Hitler himself wasn't particularly enraptured by the occultism infecting the ranks. It didn't matter with Himmler in line, they had enough power being in control of the SS. The car leaped past rolling hills and broke into countryside. Gaap watched the high banners of swastikas dip below the rear-view horizon, arm laying on the car door as it ripped road.       With his hat in his lap, he watched his face in the rear-view mirror, as his hair became wind swept into lovely locks of brilliant sheen white. An unusual hair color most often seen in Norman France, and enthusiastically welcomed in the ranks of Pride-drunk Nazis. Demons kept to disguises anymore, not even the Arches left Inferno without a magic-mask. Gaap himself looked like a young-20's highlander, yellow eyes common among the remnant Pseudomonarchy, matched with his hair to make a potent infiltrator in this region. A twinge of jealousy stung his heart as he thought of the preternaturally beautiful duke. Fucking incubus scum-whore. Gaap actually had to put work in his looks, unlike that effortless piece of shit.       "Something wrong, Gruppenfuhrer?" The german rolled beautifully off the tongue of his driver, Gaap relaxing his brow out of reflex.       "Yes, Klaus. Just thinking of estranged family."       "The one that . . . "       Gaap looked himself in the eyes. He was right. Lucifer was right. So, why did the rebellion of the duke distress him so? "He made his choice, Klaus. Focus on driving."       "Yes, Gruppenfuhrer."       Snow fettered all around as they parted by, the car tires rolling in perfect German manufacturing. A bit over-engineered, but that was just a point for them in Gaap's eyes. Let the world be jealous. Once they harness the powers from beyond, the world would be in the palm of the Reich -- fit to reforge in an image befitting the dominance of Lucifer's victory over the heavens. He began laughing as he stood in the seat, wind whipping his uniform, heedless to the breakneck speeds the Mercedes-Benz was currently traveling.       Winter-cold sweat broke out on the driver. "G-Gruppenfuhrer?!" The man was torn between his charge and the road. A rock and a hard place.       "Drive, Klaus. Or was I not clear?" Gaap looked down, a lock of hair flipping over his forehead.       "Y-yes, mein fuhrer . . . "       Gaap stood the rest of the way, Isenstadt in early red-orange afternoon as it rose over horizon. As the car pulled into the field office, Gaap rode the inertia, stepping forward onto the windshield and jumped off the hood to slide along the ground, while the car simultaneously pulled in to stop. The rank and file had readied rifles before seeing the obscene rank on Gaap's collar.       "Gruppenfuhrer?! Mein Gott!" They quickly snapped into rigid salute, rifles straight.       Gaap spoke without looking behind himself. "Klaus, bring me my hat."       He held a hand behind, feeling the cloth placed in his hand. Watching the reactions of the guards at the office, Gaap fixed the hat with its silver totenkopf on his head. Death's head. The guards were sweating. This was a man of such authority he could raze the entire town with a single signature, and they felt it as Gaap walked into the office.       The secretary was in the middle of typing up a report on a classical writer, clacking as keys inked paper row after row. She spoke without looking up. "Please wait a moment." She pulled the paper up, rereading it before placing it in a binder and setting it aside with care. "How may I help . . . you . . . ?" G-gruppenfuhrer?White hair, yellow eyes; gruppenfuhrer. This was . . . The secretary stood and curtsied in abrupt panic. "Heil! Please forgive my breach of etiquette, mein fuhrer!"       Gaap smiled as he eyed her through slits. "I'll overlook it. Schedule an inspection for tomorrow at sunrise. Oh, and clean the officer's room, would you?"       She bowed, skirt riding up for the garter straps to dig into thigh. "Right away, fuhrer!" He turned to leave, the secretary glancing up as he opened the field office door again. "Fuhrer?"       As much as Gaap wanted to take a load off, he knew the wrath of Lucifer rivaled even Satan. "I'm off to patrol. Don't be up waiting for me." Gaap looked over his shoulder, yellow eyes glinting.       He folded his arms behind himself as he left to inspect the town, winding through streets as night lights began flickering to life. Snow on the cobbles reflected orange hues while soft gusts kissed the cheek of the demon and his driver boy. Isenstadt was a low level exception to the masquerade. The supernatural nature of the town afforded Gaap very small leeway with his powers, the people here having just a glimpse of the eldritch truth. Walking into a bakery, Gaap overheard the midst of a minor spat.       A miner had hands on the counter. "5 reichsmark?! There's mold in it!" He ripped the bread open to the baker. "Give me a new loaf."       "We're out for the day, Gottlieb. What, you want me to fire up one order just for you?"       "Then write me an i.o.u. I'm not paying you for moldy bread."       The baker didn't reply, staring over the Gottlieb's shoulder, paled. "What?" The miner turned around, blanking out as he stood face to face with the visage of death itself. "Uh-uh . . . "       Gaap played with his holster pointedly before speaking. Both men looked nervously down at the holstered Luger. "Why not make an order for two, baker? We have such a beautiful night tonight to sit and talk over a meal. Don't we?"       It took a moment for the baker to register the words. He stiffened and looked Gaap in the eyes. "Right away, fuhrer!" He turned, scraping the moldy bread off the counter before heading into the back room to pull out dough.       Gaap pulled out a dining chair for himself, sitting down; unstrapping his SS dagger and placing it on the table. He called for Gottlieb to sit with him. The man glanced at the dagger for just a hair too long before joining. Gaap smiled under his hat rim, as he undid the clasp of his Luger discreetly. Any demon of Inferno could tell when a human was thinking of treachery. To think these country rats would lift a finger against him was almost laughable. Gaap would not suffer such disrespect. He pushed the dagger even closer to the miner across from him, offering a chance out without saying a word.       Gottlieb placed his restless hands in his lap as he stared at the Lieutenant General of the Schutzstaffel. Gaap leaned forward to place one hand on the table, fingers tapping in rhythm. They sat in silence as the sounds of the baker could be heard in the back. The man broke into a soft sweat. Scared, are we?       Gaap broke the silence. "How are the miner's wages, mein Gottlieb? Satisfactory?"       The man straightened his back, having slacked subconsciously. "Very, fuhrer. We are happy here in Isenstadt." His nervousness was an open book to the demon.       "Good. I'm so happy to see that. So happy I could visit the mines tonight, and lift my mood seeing the faces of such happy workers . . . "       Gottlieb stiffened -- bad form, mein Gottlieb -- he spoke up under his breath as he looked at the dagger again. "There's no need for that, mein fuhrer."       Gaap leaned forward, exposing his neck purposefully. Magic enough for teleportation already surrounded him, as if these heathens could even see such a thing. He laughed before pretending to be distracted by a knock in the back, turning to let his jugular peek out from the collar. In that moment, Gottlieb grabbed the dagger and ripped it from its scabbard, reaching forward to grab Gaap by his hair.       That is, if Gaap didn't just vanish into thin air. "What?!" The miner barely loaded his leg muscles when he felt the muzzle of a gun pressed into the back of his head.       The demon gave the man a half second to register just how fucked he was before pulling the trigger. Brains squirted out in a grotesque line from the man's forehead as Gaap slapped the top of the Luger to finish chambering a round. Gunked. He casually reached to sift through the brains and blood for his dagger , wiping it clean with Gottlieb's clothes. He called into the back, where the baker had set himself to flee. "Looks like just one loaf today, baker. Help yourself to the wallet of poor Gottlieb."       Gaap smiled as he walked out of the bakery, heading straight for the mines. Even at night, there was a shift to work the ruins of the Thule civilization, Gaap feeling his arms bump from the shift in magia. Guards stiffened, relaxed, and stiffened again when they saw who was approaching in the winter night.       The death's head spoke with authority. "Gather the entire night crew for inspection. Bring the guards, too."       They nearly fell over themselves as they rushed to comply. Gaap stood just behind work lights in the clearing by the main site as the miners were filed into a line, guards forming ranks behind the ranked demon officer. Once the miners were all in place, Gaap called out. "Every tenth of you, step forward at once. You are to be rewarded for the higher than expected yield."Slowly, disbelievingly, every tenth stepped forward. Could it be true?       Gaap stood, hands behind back as he gave the next order. "Shoot them."       The guards fired, leaving smoking bullet holes in the decimated men as Gaap's eyes shone in the moonlight.       "How many of you know a man named Gottlieb?" The survivors were barely hiding their anger, the demon relishing the show of superiority. "He betrayed you, giving you all up to us. Did you really think there were no traitors among you?" A complete lie. One of Gaap's specialties. It got its intended effect. Divide et impera. Written in the times of Caesar and people still fell for it.       "Clean this trash up by tomorrow morning, or I'll decimate you again, filth." Turning to the guards, Gaap reiterated. "Make sure of it." He allowed his eyes to be seen under the hat rim.       "Yes, Fuhrer!" They saluted before shouting at the survivors.       Gaap smiled as he wound back through the town to the field office. He didn't need sleep, but he did need to loosely abide the masquerade. Walking past the office workers, he closed the door of the private officer's room for the night; and took a seat in a lounge chair, opening a fine vintage of brandy to enjoy.       Half the bottle was gone when a knock came. "Enter." Gaap had taken the hat off, letting his hair fall in strand across his face.       In walked Vassago and Seir. The filth born brothers, almost as much shame as the duke-shit. Gaap took a swig of another shot of brandy, staring at the nervous pair. Nice bruises adorned them. Disgusting. In the eons since the duke's rebellion, their positions had fallen, Beelzebub allowing the pair to be all manner of abused save mutilation or death.       "What? I have things to do, and you waste my precious time." No need for german.       Vassago stepped forward, bowing. "I apologize for the sudden intrusion, elder brother." He waited a moment before continuing. Gaap was in a good mood. Just as the vision showed. Without lifting his head, he spoke the next line. "The duke has left America. He found out about the Thule Society."       Gaap's heart skipped a beat reflexively. As much pride in himself as he had, the memory of that long ago duel came back. The duke had nearly killed him. He put the shot glass down gently, closing his eyes. "Leave. While my mood still lasts."       When he opened his eyes again, the pair were gone.       The day had been so good. And now it was all ruined in one moment. He played with his SS dagger, recalling the last time he and the duke fought.       Shit.