Sheltered from the frigid fall downpour drenching the dark Berlin streets, a crowd of energetic club patrons joyously danced the night away. The smooth but lively rhythm of jazz filled the venue, itself dimly lit in soft tones of green, purple, and blue. Save for the occasional rumbling of thunder edging over the higher brass notes and string thrums, the swaying partiers were blissfully ignorant of the torrential rain and powerful winds that raged outside.
Near the center of the packed dance floor was an attractive, dark-haired woman somewhere in her mid-thirties. She pivoted back and forth every few moments, rotating dance partners between man and woman alike. The woman’s long, trailing earrings, emblazoned with tiny sparkling diamonds, swung to and fro with each measured twist of her body. Her name was Monique Beauséjour, and she was the owner of this establishment.
As the live band, armed with shimmering saxophones and ornate bass guitars, picked up their tempo, Monique’s movements became quicker and more vibrant. Losing herself in the moment, she closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and let herself be absorbed by the lively atmosphere as she danced.
Monique was suddenly torn back to reality by the uncomfortable sensation of cold, damp fingers clasping around her left hand. Alarmed, she quickly turned to face the source of the unwanted intrusion and found herself looking up at a tall, well-dressed member of the SS- an officer.
“Senior Assault Leader Käfer, at your service, madame…”
Mouth slightly ajar with surprise, Monique’s ruby-red lip gloss glistened under the multicolored lights. The man was handsome- hardly what she expected of the owner of such slimy digits. His jaw was chiseled and pronounced. His eyes were bright blue and framed with danger. Despite her initial resistance, as well as the lingering fear of what his presence entailed for an establishment openly featuring the performance of restricted music, Monique found herself dragged into Käfer’s confident gaze.
With a heavy accent, Monique pressed the officer. “Why is the senior assault leader indoors with his cap still on? You must remove it and let me see all of that luxurious blonde hair…”
Käfer chuckled. “Keeping a little mystery never hurts, right? You of all people should understand that, oh sweet Black Diamond of the Rhine.”
Blood running cold, Monique froze up. Paralyzed by her own apprehension, she did not resist as Käfer gently raised her hand upward and into his direct field of vision. With great intrigue, the senior assault leader inspected the woman’s fingers. They were long and slender, though not disproportionately so. Each was adorned with a sharp, pointed nail, black as night and shining like precious stones. Indeed, this is where the Black Diamond had derived her name. Rumor had it that the nails were actually composed of the titular mineral, featuring a high carbon content that made them nigh-unbreakable.
“Aha…” gasped Käfer, “They’re perfect…”
Feeling violated, Monique wrenched her hand away from the man and took a step backward. She anxiously looked around the room to see if anyone had taken notice of her predicament but found the other patrons oblivious as they were taken in by the music.
“Come on,” started Käfer, “you and I should go somewhere more private to discuss this… cultural erosion you’ve been promoting here.”
Threatened, Monique clenched her jaw. “I will go nowhere with you, sir.”
“Then I’ll return in a half hour with my squad and arrest every single person here, including you,” Käfer explained nonchalantly. “And considering that you’re not only a foreign national promoting degeneracy in the Reich, but an exceptional…” he continued before taking a deep breath to emphasize his point, “I don’t like your chances.”
Having reached her limits with the intruder's menacing, Monique took a step back toward him as resolve washed over her. "You will not come into my establishment and threaten me in such a manner, Mr. Käfer. Clearly, you know who I am and thus, you must know how reckless it is to speak to me this way."
A grim smirk crept across Käfer's face. The woman was challenging him and he was more than happy to oblige her.
"How about this?" he inquired, abruptly removing his pistol from its holster before she could respond. "How about I just start blowing people away? Then, when I drag you back to my section headquarters, I pry the answers I'm looking for out of you?"
Monique arched her fingers, reading to drive them through Käfer's jugular. "I will tell you nothing," she growled, "Leave right this instant."
Leaving not a second for her to react, Käfer seized Monique by the wrist and forcefully lowered her hand.
"Sweetheart," Käfer started, leaning forward threateningly, "Let's make something very clear. You might be tough, but even a diamond can be broken."
The club owner was placed in difficult circumstances. Though she was confident in her ability to defend herself, it was clear that Käfer was no ordinary thug. If they came to blows here, Monique wouldn't be able to stop him from harming the establishment's patrons. For their sake, she would have to comply with his demands. That is, at least as long as it took to draw him away from the club and dispatch him in isolation.
"Alright," said Monique, freeing her hand once more and standing defiantly, "If it will stop you from making a scene in my place of business, I will come with you."
Käfer smiled with dark confidence. "Good choice, lady."
Fearing for the safety of the others, Monique hurriedly rushed to the back wall of the dance hall and fetched her umbrella from behind the bar counter. She then retrieved her luxurious jaguar fur coat from its hook and wrapped it around her body, obscuring the sparkling red dress she had featured through the night.
"Is that real?" asked Käfer, looking on as she prepared.
Monique glared back at him. "It is. I killed it myself."
"With a rifle from a hundred yards away?" Käfer scoffed.
"With my nails, tearing his fucking throat out."
One eye narrowing, Käfer snorted. "Scary..." he mused sarcastically.
The two made their way out of the club, leaving the upbeat sounds of music and intoxicated laughter behind them as the door closed. Monique extended the burgundy webbing of her umbrella, shielding herself from the downpour, while Käfer took no action to avoid the weather. Ushered forth by the man, Monique followed him down the dark, wet sidewalk.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Just a little further," Käfer replied with a grin, "My buddy is waiting with the car to take you to the area's police precinct... as a precaution, of course. You talk, you go home, no raid. Simple enough?"
Monique did not answer. Instead, she took the opportunity to size up the SS officer, her eyes scanning him from head to toe. Nothing stood out to her that would give away what his abilities might be. Perhaps, given what she had seen, he relied on basic superhuman strength and speed. Considering that he had taken her by surprise previously and that she herself also processed these gifts, that wouldn't be any particular cause for alarm. Despite this, a nagging feeling persisted in Monique's mind. Something about this "Käfer" was abnormal. With the alleged car nowhere in sight, the woman's heart began to race as she became increasingly convinced of an impending altercation.
"See something you like?" he teased, taking note of Monique's prolonged stare.
She sneered in response and stopped suddenly. "You're wasting my time and I see no police car. We are alone here. If you have something to ask me then do it now."
Käfer's eyes wandered back and forth across the dark street, taking in a glimpse of the streaks of harsh rain glowing under the light poles. Observing that there was indeed no one within earshot, Käfer opted to be more forthcoming.
"So basically, you need to die."
Monique's eyes widened with terror as her heart pounded out of her chest. It was just as she had expected.
"It's nothing personal, of course," Käfer explained matter-of-factly, "You just settled into the wrong town, princess."
Suddenly, Monique thrust the canopy of her umbrella toward him, blocking Käfer's vision of her movements long enough for her to mount an assault. In one vicious motion, she tore through the fabric of the umbrella and directly into the man's face. Her ploy had been successful. With one final twist of her wrist, she gouged Käfer's eye, rending it from the socket.
Reeling from the attack, the man stumbled back and clutched the vacant orbital void before doubling over. "You little bitch!" he cried out, "I'm going to pull those fucking nails out one at a time and make you swallow them!"
Monique prepared to press her offense but stopped short as realization finally washed over her. Despite the torrential rains flooding the city street around them, Käfer was perfectly dry. The rain was evaporating upon contact with his body. This was the abnormality that had subconsciously weighed on her earlier. Quickly weighing her options, Monique decided against locking herself in a death match against an exceptional whose powers were a mystery to her and instead opted to escape.
With Käfer severely injured, Monique kicked her high heels into the street and hurried off, certain that she wouldn't immediately be pursued. Mind running as quickly as her feet, she racked her brain for any idea of where she might find refuge. Käfer's SS would no doubt soon descend on her establishment, so returning was out of the question. Though the man was likely lying about working with the police, Monique's business was unquestionably acting in violation of several laws passed by the government and, as such, relying on law enforcement for protection was also out of the question. Then it hit her.
The academy! she thought to herself.
Though she was no fan of the maintainers of the Iron Knight Academy, who in her mind were religious zealots, they would likely be her best hope for assistance under these circumstances. As most civilians were well aware, exceptionals were forbidden from serving in the SS. Having seen what Käfer was capable of firsthand, Monique was certain that he was guilty of violating this order. Such information might prove valuable to the Iron Knights and secure her safety.
As her feet stomped through a frigid, dirty puddle, she looked down at the fingers she had raked across Käfer's face. They were coated in blood and ocular fluids which ran down her wrist under the influence of the persistent rainfall. Though she had decided on her destination, one problem remained in her plan- the academy was in the opposite direction, past Käfer. While he was no doubt weakened, Monique still believed it in her best interest to avoid further direct confrontation. Instead, she resolved to cut through the back alleys and double back on the next city block.
While the rain somewhat limited the nighttime visibility, Monique could make out the dark outline of the next alley ahead. Relief washed over her as she turned and dashed into the darkness, certain that she had evaded a potentially horrid fate. Unfortunately, her moment of triumph was short-lived. Without warning, A hand ripped from the black shade of the alleyway and slammed into her throat, immediately wrapping around Monique's neck and lifting her from the ground. She tried to scream but was unable to pass even the tiniest amount of air through her windpipe- a testament to the beastly strength of her assailant.
Monique frantically tore at the red leather sleeve that extended from the darkness to no avail. Then, as if she was as light as a feather, the arm contracted, pulling her back into the shadows as it raised her higher up off the ground. Consciousness slipping from lack of oxygen, Monique found herself face to face with two large, synthetic eyes shining dimly under a coat of raindrops and condensation. She was looking into the clouded lenses of a military-issue gas mask.
Damn it... she thought to herself, There were two of them?
Such were the final impressions of the Black Diamond of the Rhine before her sense of self slipped away, never to return. The attacker, apparently satisfied with her slow, panicked expiration, unceremoniously snapped her neck with a flick of their wrist and tossed her lifeless body into a pile of garbage bags next to a business's back alley steps. The murderer then tilted their head back, allowing the rain to strike against his mask and the front of their steel army helmet.
"You have a habit of throwing perfectly good meals into the trash, don't you?"
With their post-atrocity basking cut short by the sudden intrusion, the killer turned to face their harasser. With a haughty smile, Käfer stepped forward into the alleyway, shadows obscuring his maimed eye socket. The masked murderer said nothing, only tilting their head inquisitively.
Unfazed by the raw malice exuding from the fiend, Käfer calmly stepped by them and made his way to Monique's expired form. He then knelt down in front of her, firmly gripped her shoulders, and tiled her body toward his. From the murderer's perspective, Käfer's exact motives were unclear. They looked on curiously as the sound of sloshing innards being hastily gulped down filled the dark, claustrophobic alley.
Käfer, apparently sated, rose to his feet and wiped some indistinct dark fluid from the corner of his mouth. Still tightly locked in his left hand's grasp was the shriveled corpse of Monique. Though her hair retained its youthful dark sheen, her skin appeared to have aged significantly, looking like that of a centenarian.
"You know," started Käfer, the horrific evidence of his profane act holding a stark contrast to his casual tone, "you're one sick motherfucker."
The killer did not respond.
"No, really..." Käfer asserted, "You're one messed up son of a bitch. What's your deal, anyway? Mommy didn't love you enough?"
Still, the masked visage of the fiend was unmoved.
"No, that's not it," Käfer continued, "Maybe mommy loved you a little too much, right? Now when you see some cute little thing by herself at night, you just can't control yourself."
His provocations having been ignored, Käfer took a step toward the killer. "Truth be told, I don't really give a fuck either way. What I do give a fuck about is you burning these bitches into charcoal before I can get anything useful out of them. So that's going to have to stop. We clear?"
At this point, Käfer wasn't even certain that the eyes behind those fogged lenses were looking at him. Annoyed by the continued lack of response, he gripped the darkened cherry-red lapel of the killer's leather jacket aggressively.
"Listen, fucker," he growled, "Either you start leaving those bodies intact so I can get my fill, or I fatten up on you instead. Your call."
Finally, the fiend's head turned to look at Käfer directly. A faint glow behind their lenses steadily grew brighter, catching the SS officer's attention. Before Käfer could utter another word, the killer dropped a swift elbow down toward him, which he barely managed to block with his own forearm. Despite shielding the rest of his body from the blow, his forearm let out a loud crack, significant of a break. The pain resulting from such an injury would surely cripple any normal human, however, Käfer was anything but.
Certain of his superiority, Käfer threw out a powerful high kick with his right leg. The murderer jumped several meters into the air, handily avoiding the strike, which subsequently crashed through the brick wall that had been behind them. Thinking fast, Käfer hurled Monique's shriveled husk upward as a makeshift anti-air weapon. Now latched to the bricks above with their back to the wall, the killer used their free hand to snatch the corpse from the air and throw it back down at its deliverer with incredible speed. Käfer hurriedly sidestepped the return as the body hit the pathway below with such brutal force that it exploded on impact, sending grotesque remains in every direction and painting ground and wall alike.
Though Käfer had avoided the macabre projectile, the gore from the resulting detonation clung to his face, temporarily blinding him. While he was occupied struggling to wipe away the reddish mess, the killer propelled themself off the wall toward him. Still unable to see clearly, Käfer was hit with a knuckle strike to his left shoulder so powerful that it nearly tore his arm from his body.
Now severely mangled, Käfer fell back against the cool, wet bricks behind him, panting heavily. Blood streamed from his mouth down into the rain puddles beneath him as the fiend loomed over his shattered body.
"Alright..." Käfer gurgled through the thick, sanguine liquid pooling in his throat, "That's how you want it shit bag?"
With his remaining arm, Käfer tore open his jacket, revealing a stick grenade tucked into his waistband. Unable to unscrew the steel cap with one hand, he cracked it between his fingers to expose the string, which he quickly plucked from the handle to ignite the fuse. Acting quickly, the killer leaped up to a skeletonized iron balcony above and watched on with interest.
Though his apparent attempt at a suicide attack was foiled, a slick grin slid across Käfer's lips. "Thought so..." he spat.
With mere seconds to spare before the grenade's detonation, two large, curved talons burst forth from Käfer's sleeve, splitting and displacing his twisted carpals. These hardened claws, gleaming with the same gem-like phosphorescence as Monique's diamond nails, dug into the bricks behind him and tore downward, shredding the hardened clay as if it were mere canvas. Oppressive heat emanated from the gap, which itself flickered like an orange flame.
"Until next time, fuckworm," Käfer taunted before limply dropping backward into the rift, which closed just after he passed through.
As soon as the ethereal tear dissipated, the grenade exploded, rocking the area and sending a torrent of dust and debris billowing out of the mouth of the alleyway. Save for the odd bone, the concussive blast and ensuing fireball left little evidence of the standoff to be discovered.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
