90-60 Union Turnpike, Glendale, Queens, NY, USA. February 14, 2023, 00:00 A.M. ?!
“Wow! That was so cool!” the boy shouted, leaping from his chair and rushing toward Starling, who stared off into empty space as though seeing something no one else could.
“Do it again! Do it again! Do it again!” he chanted, bouncing excitedly in front of her to draw her attention.
Starling narrowed her eyes at him, unimpressed. With a flick of her wrist, she retracted her bow into her arm. Her expression remained flat. “You're rude for asking me to perform tricks.”
“I am not!” the boy protested, grinning. “You should’ve told me you had superpowers! That means you’re the one who can fight the bad guy at our house!”
Starling blinked slowly. “You want me to do what, now?”
“There was this weird man—he had powers too—and he attacked our house! He’s so strong, and he had a camera! But Zeus rescued us before things got worse. Zeus couldn’t beat him though, so I wished for a superhero tournament to find the strongest hero to defeat him!” the boy blurted in one breath, hopping up and down with childlike urgency.
Starling’s eyes tracked his movement. “Why not just wish for the bad guy to disappear? Are you dumb?” she replied bluntly.
She turned and began walking toward the cage-like membrane enclosing the area, but her movement jerked as the boy tackled her leg, nearly tripping her.
Starling slowly turned to face him, irritation radiating from her like a static charge.
“Georgie! Don’t do that! You’re making her mad!” a little blonde girl called out. She couldn’t have been older than five, dressed in a pink princess gown, a glittery tiara resting on her golden curls. “Girls don’t like clingy boys, you know!”
“Shut up, Autumn!” Georgie snapped, eyes squeezed shut as he strained to hold Starling back. “We need her to get Dad’s stuff from the house!”
“Meanie!” Autumn shot back. Then after a pause, she pointed. “Um... Georgie? That’s not her leg.”
Georgie looked down and screamed—he was clinging to a mannequin leg.
Meanwhile, Starling knocked gently on the bubble wall with the back of her hand, seemingly searching for something within the membrane.
“I can’t make vague wishes,” Georgie said, rushing up beside her again. “They don’t work if they’re not specific!”
“Hm. Good to know,” Starling murmured, still tapping experimentally.
“He’s super strong—and you’re even stronger than Zeus! That means you can beat him!” Georgie declared, bouncing on his toes. At this, Starling’s hand froze above her head.
“Please step back,” she said, her voice sharp.
Tetsuo and the other captives hesitated, too stunned to react in time.
A jagged black blade punctured the seemingly indestructible bubble, twisting through it like a knife through flesh. A gauntlet followed—fingers plunging in, peeling apart the membrane as if it were skin.
The cell shattered.
Georgie stumbled back as the towering M0NST3R obliterated the bubble.
The blade stabbed into the floor just in front of Starling, narrowly missing her shocking pink trainers. Half her face was obscured by the looming weapon, reflected on the rusted metal. She stared at her warped reflection, unblinking.
“You’re overdoing your service,” she said coolly. “Keep it up, and I might reconsider giving you a leave of absence. Yes?”
The demonic, Memphistopheles-like knight growled, its voice like a revving engine. Then it disintegrated, dissolving into vapour and vanishing into Starling’s forehead.
Outside the supermarket, the world snapped back into grim reality. The searing heat of a desert illusion vanished, replaced by a cold, bombarding downpour over Queens.
“Finally! It’s over!” cried a woman as the remaining survivors rushed across the street, guided by Paradox Movement rebels escorting through the storm. Rain poured through the supermarket’s damaged roof, soaking the floor, the scattered goods—and everyone left behind.
Tetsuo and Lucy, the latter leaning on his shoulder for support, were drenched alongside Sievernich.
“Sievernich to Paradox HQ,” he barked into his Gizmo. “Send Raphael—now. The supplies are getting soaked.”
Nearby, four of the six teenagers attempted to slip away unnoticed. The remaining two, along with four young children, lingered, hesitant.
Suddenly, a yellow laser grazed the tip of the jock’s shoe—the one leading the retreat. He yelped and stumbled backward.
“You’re all staying,” Sievernich growled, turning his harsh gaze on the teens and even the children. “You’ll be held accountable for the squad members killed during your... antics.”
The children huddled together, shrinking from his glare. Georgie and Autumn were embraced protectively by the same woman who’d been targeted by an angry mob earlier. Even though the chaos had ended, she shielded them instinctively.
“Oi, Sievernich!” Tetsuo called out, his voice heavy with reproach. “You might be squad leader, but that doesn’t give you the right to bully kids.”
Lucy stood beside him, glaring at Sievernich with hardened eyes. Her silent disapproval gave weight to Tetsuo’s otherwise emotionless tone.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Sievernich sneered. “Should I tell Brimstone our squad died to an unknown entity? One not even classified as a Void? Summoned by a bunch of children looking for their toy soldier to do the bare minimum and find their junk?”
“It’s not junk! It’s my dad’s stuff! You can’t call it junk!” Georgie shouted, struggling against his mother’s grip as she tried to calm him.
At that moment, Starling emerged from the supermarket, soaked to the skin, her posture low, as if scanning the ground for something. She seemed entirely unaffected by the unfolding drama.
Sievernich noticed and approached her. “Excuse me, miss. I’d prefer if my saviour didn’t catch a cold,” he said, attempting a more respectful tone.
Starling paused and turned. As their eyes met, Sievernich froze. He felt something inexplicable stir within him—a pull, deep and unnatural. Her eyes were cosmic, a shade of midnight blue swirling like galaxies.
“I am not one of those who lie dead in forgetfulness,” Starling whispered.
Though her voice was soft, it carried like thunder through a microphone in a vast auditorium. The words sent a pulse of pressure through the air. The teens, the two adults, even Sievernich and Lucy—everyone except the children—felt a sickening wave wash over them, as if their stomachs had dropped.
Tetsuo stepped forward, having just applied MediBot regeneration bandages to Lucy’s wounds. Thankfully, she had no broken bones—only cuts and bruises.
“Miss Starling... what do you mean by that?” he asked cautiously.
She raised a hand before he could take another step, signalling him to stop.
BOOM.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6ga1Dj1Pxh
A bolt of lightning crashed down on her like a divine missile, detonating in the middle of the street.
The storm entity, once defeated by Starling, had returned—this time pinning her to the asphalt. Its eyes locked on hers as she slowly began to disintegrate beneath the pressure.
“Thorne. We finally meet,” it rumbled. “Give me the Book of Life!”
“You’re not getting anything!” Sievernich snarled, charging the creature even as lightning rained down around him. He launched a punch with such force that it hurled the entity high into the sky, a sonic boom shattering the supermarket’s remaining glass.
Fragments of the entity reformed behind him and attempted to lock him in place. But Sievernich’s very presence began warping the environment. The world reshaped itself around him—cathedral-like geometries blooming from the ground: radiant spires, luminous corridors, golden marble rising like divine ruins. Light bent unnaturally—prisms, halos, and lens flares flickered in his wake. Every movement left afterimages of divine brilliance.
As he staggered the entity with a series of strikes, it chuckled. “You’ve been hiding your true strength, I see.”
“ZEUS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Georgie screamed over the storm. “We need her to beat the bad guy!”
“I’ve already fulfilled your wish,” the entity growled. A swirling sandstorm formed around Sievernich, pushing him back and giving the creature enough time to reassemble itself. It grew into a titan, towering over everyone—teenagers, children, Lucy, and Tetsuo alike.
Large red text appeared in the sky, glowing and unreadable to the world—except to Starling as she faded:
“Please, bring someone strong enough to stop the monster, no matter what it takes.”
The titan ‘Zeus’ glared down at the crowd.
“Now,” he said coldly, “I’m fulfilling another wish—mine.”
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***
Schloss Colditz, Colditz, Germany: October 29th, 1941, 10:49 P.M.
SSoldiers hurriedly unloaded supply crates from a truck outside the castle. Gunfire crackled in the distance. Explosions lit the horizon beyond the forest. Screeches pierced the night sky—followed by screams.
Eva had seen her share of battle over the past three weeks and six days.
***
Three weeks earlier...
“Our town, Colditz, has been cut off from the rest of Germany—and the Motherland’s heart, Berlin,” said Dr Wagner, hoisting the bloated remains of a stomach from a monstrous carcass. The same type of creature Eva had slain upon her arrival.
The gut burst open as he lifted it, spilling onto the cold stone floor of the castle’s basement laboratory. Some of the ichor splattered across Eva’s boots.
“Ah! Forgive the mess,” he said without looking up. “I have many questions for you, but since you’ve aided our troops immensely—especially against the Allied inferno weapon—you may ask first, Fräulein.”
“You said Colditz is cut off from the rest of Germany. What exactly do you mean?” Eva asked, stepping away from the mess as Wagner continued his dissection. Wet chunks of viscera thudded onto the tile with nauseating squelches.
From nearby, Schrödinger flicked his ears and muttered dryly, “When are we going to tell him his work is sloppy? Butchery at best.”
Wagner grunted, yanking out a liver and pancreas and dumping them into a dented metal tray. “Before these demonic creatures arrived, we were winning the war,” he said, voice hoarse with fatigue. “Our forces stretched across Europe and across the seven seas. We were armed with a weapon gifted by God—our brave men empowered by seraphim to strike down impurity!”
He retrieved a mop and began scrubbing the floor, smearing blood and bile into long streaks across the stone.
“But then the tides turned. The Inselaffe—the island monkeys—unleashed hellspawn on our sacred soil. Summoned by a witch they worship. A harpy.” His voice seethed with hatred. “Now Germany is drowning in darkness.”
Eva frowned. “That would explain why Colditz lost contact with Berlin...”
“For eight months now, Fräulein,” Wagner confirmed, bowing slightly. “But I must admit—I’m confused. Your native tongue is clearly English. Not Japanese. Not German. I assumed you were one of ours... but surely, by now, you’d be where you're supposed to be. What exactly are you doing here?”
He stepped closer, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Eva didn’t flinch. “Forgive me. I was trained to speak English natively, to better infiltrate the United States. That way, I wouldn't blow my cover in service to the Reich.”
Wagner didn’t seem satisfied. He stooped to retrieve a scalpel that had fallen to the floor, still coated in yellow ichor. He examined its edge carefully.
“Tell me then, Fräulein. Which of the Führer’s high command assigned you?”
“Generalfeldmarschall Wilhelm Keitel of the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht,” Eva replied without hesitation. “I was in training with the Waffen-SS.”
She looked directly at Wagner’s forehead—not into his eyes. A technique she had learned long ago, meant to avoid triggering aggression while maintaining control.
“I have credentials. You might want to see them.”
She reached inside her jacket and pulled out a worn, folded document. Wagner stripped off his gloves, laid down the scalpel, and took the paper with chemical-stained fingers. He studied the red wax seal and then carefully unfolded the letter.
Oberkommando der Wehrmacht7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ3dARYcj3O
Chef des Wehrmachtführungsstabes7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMcuYGaYnGe
Berlin, den 28. August 1941
Geheime Kommandosache – Nur für den Dienstgebrauch7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvLu9ZwCdGq
(Verschluss-Sache gemäß OKW Befehl Nr. 77/41)
Bestätigung der Sonderzuweisung
Hiermit wird bestätigt, dass SS-Anwärterin Evangeline Weiss, geboren am 10. November 1920 in Köln, im Rahmen der geheimen Operation „Donnerkrone“ in den aktiven Dienst der Waffen-SS übernommen und unter direkter Aufsicht des Oberkommandos der Wehrmacht (OKW) für eine Sondermission ausgewählt wurde.
Nach Absolvierung einer verkürzten Ausbildung in den Disziplinen Spionageabwehr, feindpsychologische Kriegsführung, übernatürliche Gegenspionage sowie Tarnung unter alliierten Zivilbedingungen, wurde SS-Anwärterin Weiss zur verdeckten Infiltration des Feindgebietes Vereinigte Staaten von Amerika abkommandiert.
Die Auswahl und Beauftragung erfolgte persönlich durch den Chef des OKW, Generalfeldmarschall Wilhelm Keitel, im Rahmen der Strategie zur Abwehr sogenannter „Dämonische Kreaturen“, die Berichten zufolge im Ausland verstärkt militärisch eingesetzt werden.
Ihre Einsatzlegitimation ist durch dieses Schreiben vollumfänglich gedeckt. Sie ist befugt, alle notwendigen Mittel im Dienst der Operation zu verwenden.
Im Auftrag des Führers7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡh0JXvBeGas
Für das Deutsche Reich
Unterschrift:7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡALPd7ftpDt
Wilhelm Keitel7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYi1q9dAFbH
Generalfeldmarschall7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgdp4Ay6k9r
Chef des Oberkommandos der Wehrmacht7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7pj4T3kg6S
(Reichssiegel)
[Translation:]7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe8lGeISOKx
High Command of the Wehrmacht7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFZuTUJQVD4
Chief of the Wehrmacht General Staff7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡylZ2KvBj25
Berlin, August 28, 1941
Secret Command Material – For Official Use Only7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYyUmWf4PL5
(Classified according to OKW Order No. 77/41)
Confirmation of Special Assignment
This confirms that SS Candidate Evangeline Weiss, born November 10, 1920, in Cologne, was accepted into active Waffen-SS service under Operation “Thunder Crown.” She has been selected for a special mission under direct supervision of the High Command of the Wehrmacht (OKW).
Following intensive training in counterintelligence, psychological warfare, supernatural espionage, and civilian infiltration techniques, SS Candidate Weiss has been deployed for covert operations within the United States of America.
Her authorization is issued under personal directive of Field Marshal Wilhelm Keitel.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM1U9gvcF47
She is empowered to use any means necessary in service of her mission.
By order of the Führer7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc1A7lZ2jNu
For the German Reich
Signature:7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡB9VL76Yhd3
Wilhelm Keitel7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqPcxCHF4iT
Field Marshal7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4LULAaseou
Chief of the High Command of the Wehrmacht
“I was scheduled to return home within a year,” Eva added coolly.
“You’re three days late,” Wagner muttered, folding the paper and handing it back. Eva tucked it away.
“I still have so many questions,” he said, chuckling softly. “But alas! Welcome home.”
Before Eva could respond, a stern voice rang out behind them.
“Dr Wagner! Miss Weiss! This is no place for a girl!”
Sister Hildegard swept into the laboratory, face stern, posture commanding. She strode across the blood-slicked floor and seized Eva’s hand.
“Come, young lady. I have a proposition for you.”
“Oh please, Sister!” Wagner protested. “She’s SS! My work doesn’t scare her.”
Sister Hildegard stopped, turned, and fixed Wagner with a sharp look.
“Doctor, it isn’t the demons on your table that frighten her. It’s your butchering that could leave a lasting impression.”
With that, she led Eva out of the lab.
In the corridor, Eva couldn’t help but ask, “What’s this proposition you mentioned?”
Sister Hildegard answered simply:
“Become a nun.”
***
“Eva, are you ready? It’s your first day as a nun!” Juliet’s voice called cheerfully through the door, a light knock following.
“Just five minutes!” Eva replied, quickly scribbling into her journal, summarising the last few days—particularly the disastrous dinner and the cook’s regrettable culinary skills.
“Alright! Meet me in the courtyard,” Juliet replied, her footsteps fading down the corridor.
Eva exhaled and glanced at the nearly full journal. “Thank God I packed the books from Belvedere Castle,” she thought, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes as her mind wandered to the events that brought her here.
By the window, Schrödinger sat motionless, ears pricked, gaze fixed outside. He was watching the soldiers below—and one man in particular. The lieutenant. The same one who had attacked Eva on her arrival in 1941.
Schrödinger’s stare was unyielding, tense.
Down in the courtyard, the lieutenant was helping others load ammunition. Just as Eva wrote the final sentence and placed her pen down, he looked up—straight toward the window.
Schrödinger ducked, vanishing behind the curtain with a sudden thud that knocked over a porcelain vase. It rolled precariously across the desk.
Eva spun around just in time to catch it, one hand still adjusting the final button on her novice nun’s uniform.
She glanced at Schrödinger, who was cautiously peeking through the curtain again.
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked, frowning at his odd behaviour. Curious, she looked outside herself.
The lieutenant was still staring up at the window. Their eyes locked—for a full minute. Neither moved. Then, at last, he turned and walked out of sight, disappearing behind the far side of the castle.
“I’m going to be late. No more trouble from you, Schrödy,” Eva chided gently. She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. He gave a soft mewl in reply.
As she stepped out, he stretched languidly and curled into a ball, ready for an afternoon nap.
Eva locked the door and made her way through the ornate corridor. Tapestries of war heroes and imperial crests lined the walls. Halfway down, she nearly collided with a woman—clearly not from around here.
The woman wore a pristine white kimono, embroidered with delicate images of cranes and ocean waves. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, holding a kiseru pipe between her fingers. Her gaze was vacant—lost in thought or something deeper.
“Oh! Pardon me,” Eva said, startled. She offered a nervous chuckle as she took a step back.
“I’m running late. Please take care,” she added politely, bowing her head before continuing on.
The woman watched her go, silently, until Eva disappeared around the corner toward the courtyard.
Then, without warning, she began to cry.
A man’s voice echoed softly through the hall. Stern, but laced with concern.
“Rin, dōshita no? Ano wakai josei ga nanika iyana koto o itta no?”7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuxEucKKH3q
(Rin, what’s wrong? Did that young woman say something upsetting?)
Rin shook her head slowly, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Ā... Kazan... Kanojo wa onaji koto o itta no... mae ni mo... mae ni mo...”7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVsnNKyN9yP
(Oh, Kazan... she said the same thing... before... before...)
She couldn’t finish. She simply wept.
The man, Kazan. Who appears in his late sixties, and wore the decorated uniform of a general in the joint Japanese-German Allied Command. He wrapped his arms around her gently.
“Kanojo wa inaku natta...”7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5qyfl6AaLa
(She’s gone...) he whispered, holding her as her sobs echoed through the ancient stone corridor.
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***
Scrub. Scrub.
Eva scrubbed the floor as fast as she could, broom in hand. The afternoon had been relentless. Returning to the church’s makeshift hospital was always a nauseating experience. Caring for injured soldiers carried not only physical burden—but emotional weight. Some cases were minor. Others were so severe she had to restrain the wounded as the physicians worked, their screams echoing off stone walls.
Outside, the sounds of battle had quieted. The bell tower rang, marking the return of troops from the Dark Forest Battlefield.
Juliet strode between rows of beds, clipboard in hand, pausing as she noticed an empty cot.
“Sister Anne! Where is Sergeant Vogel?” she called out to another nun, who was gently tucking in a patient.
“Hm? Wasn’t he discharged?” Sister Anne replied, her tone uncertain.
“Discharged? The same Sergeant Vogel who lost a leg, an arm, and an eye? Discharged by whom?” Juliet’s voice sharpened with concern.
“Dr Wagner,” Sister Anne answered. “Sister Eva performed a miracle, remember? His pain vanished. Dr Wagner requested his discharge and had him transferred to Schloss Colditz.”
Juliet froze. Her fingers trembled slightly.
Sister Anne placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “Oh, don’t worry, Sister Juliet. Dr Wagner is an amazing doctor.”
She moved along, leaving Juliet rooted in place.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Eva said, approaching with a bucket in hand. Juliet jolted and clutched her chest, startled.
“Eva, you clean so fast!” Juliet laughed nervously.
“I didn’t clean,” Eva deadpanned. “I cut out the dirtiness.”
“Huh?” Juliet blinked.
“This broom can switch brushes.” Eva spun it expertly, showing the underside. “Very efficient.”
Juliet blinked, then burst into laughter.
“You’re surprisingly funny for someone so... gloomy.” She wiped a tear of laughter. “Seriously, thank you. That cut through my dread.”
Together, they packed up the cleaning supplies and returned them to the storage closet.
As dusk approached, the two sisters left the church grounds. Juliet estimated they’d arrive at Schloss Colditz in time for dinner. Along the way, they chatted and gossiped, the tension of the day easing.
But just as they neared the castle threshold, Eva’s body seized with instinct.
“Get down!” she shouted, shoving Juliet and herself to the ground.
A fighter plane roared overhead—too low.
CRASH.
It slammed into the castle courtyard, obliterating the marble fountain.
Soldiers ran to the wreckage.
“It’s our Luftwaffe! The pilot’s alive—get him out!”
Three soldiers pulled the pilot from the twisted cockpit as Dr Wagner sprinted onto the scene.
“Hold him steady,” Wagner ordered, flicking a penlight into the man’s eyes. “Name and rank?”
“Schmidt,” the pilot muttered, barely conscious.
Juliet handed Wagner a spare first-aid kit as Eva helped to staunch the blood pouring from a gaping wound in the man’s side. A jagged shrapnel spike was embedded in his torso.
“What happened?” barked General Kazan, arriving on the scene in full uniform.
Before anyone could respond, the wounded pilot grabbed Kazan’s arm in a death grip. His voice was hoarse, desperate:
“The Witch... the Harpy! She’s coming! Deutschland has fallen...Defeated by the Inselaffe’s Champion...Constantine!”
The pilot slumped into unconsciousness, his hand slipping from Kazan’s sleeve.
Silence fell.
Kazan stood frozen, his face blanched with terror.
The surrounding soldiers watched, stunned. Juliet, Eva, and even Dr Wagner exchanged horrified glances.
Kazan, who had stared down the atrocities of war without blinking, looked afraid. Truly afraid.
And that alone was terrifying.
Then, the night split open.
A burst of light cracked across the sky like dawn breaking violently into the heavens. Everyone shielded their eyes as a searing radiance bathed the earth.
In the sky above: fighter planes and airships, dozens of them, cloaked in crimson banners.
And at the centre of the storm—a levitating figure.
Draped in a long, blood-red ulster coat, wielding a sword and pistol. Their face was shadowed by a tricorn hat. Slowly, the figure turned towards you.
It was Alice.
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