"Major, are we still to initiate the plan as scheduled?"
Warrant Officer Schrödinger asked the question with palpable curiosity, addressing the obese man who seemed as though he had grown into his seat. Behind the boy, a tail swished back and forth, betraying his restlessness.
The Letzte Bataillon—the Last Battalion—had already lost a significant portion of its strength, leaving them with few remaining options. This was particularly true now that numerous paranormal intelligence agencies had fixed their gaze upon them, rendering their original grand strategy effectively obsolete.
The scheme to have Rip Van Winkle distract Alucard, for instance, had been scrapped most thoroughly.
Once they realized that the entirety of Great Britain was investigating the news of the Blood Queen, it became clear that Alucard would fundamentally no longer be baited by their diversions. The threat of the Blood Queen was just as significant to them; Nimue, after all, had suffered greatly thanks to their machinations.
"But of course. This stage is far grander than the one we originally hoped for. Why should we stop now?"
The Major wore a wide, exaggerated grin as he picked up a hamburger and began to chew voraciously.
Even though Zorin and Tubalcain had been sacrificed, such trivialities could not impede the execution of this maniacal plan. Everything that remained of the Third Reich was born of madness; there was no longer any consideration for what was 'appropriate' or 'prudent.'
The Major was, quite simply, a warmonger.
"Then, the time is nearly upon us."
Schrödinger smiled like a Cheshire cat, the ears atop his head twitching slightly.
With his childlike appearance, Warrant Officer Schrödinger looked for all the world like an innocent, naive boy. Yet, this creature was perhaps crueler than any ordinary soldier—not just toward others, but toward himself as well.
"Indeed. The hour approaches, and our allies have agreed to provide some assistance."
As the Major spoke, he glanced toward M.O.D.O.K., who was seated opposite him.
The massive face on M.O.D.O.K.'s oversized head contorted into a distinct expression of disdain. He was in a difficult position.
Born a researcher, M.O.D.O.K. understood little of politics. He simply possessed certain mind-control capabilities, which had allowed him to seize control of A.I.M. (Advanced Idea Mechanics). But here? neither the Werewolf Captain, the fat man before him, nor the child could be affected by his psychic powers.
Consequently, M.O.D.O.K. appeared exceptionally pitiful in this company.
Any one of them could defeat him. There was not a trace left of the insufferable arrogance he had displayed back at A.I.M. He looked like a rat trapped in a cattery, his complexion turning an ugly shade of pallor.
"I say... are you actually human?"
M.O.D.O.K. opened his wide mouth to ask, a layer of fine, dense sweat beading on his gigantic forehead.
From the very beginning, the Major had steadfastly claimed to be human. However, as a man of science, M.O.D.O.K. could detect the anomalies.
It was obvious that Schrödinger and the Werewolf Captain were non-human entities, so there was no need to scrutinize them. But this fat man... his body was rife with the traces of mechanical operation.
No matter how one looked at it, he did not resemble a human being.
"Certainly. Though, why do you ask?"
The Major's lips pulled back, his smile turning radiant. He was never stingy with his voice, nor did he hesitate to offer a twisted answer to those who questioned him.
Although his words often held a strange logic, it never changed his essential madness.
"My mind control abilities are almost impossible for a human to shield against—unless you aren't human."
M.O.D.O.K. watched as the Werewolf Captain behind him took a few threatening steps forward upon hearing this. Sensing the movement, M.O.D.O.K.'s face twisted, and he wisely shut his mouth.
That wolf had nearly cracked his skull open once before; he had no desire to be thrashed again.
A being that could ignore mind control simply shouldn't exist. If he couldn't control them, it merely meant M.O.D.O.K.'s power wasn't strong enough. This villain had recognized his own fragility ahead of time, no longer wallowing in the hubris that came with ruling A.I.M.
"Is one human? What decides such a thing? I recognize myself as human, and that is sufficient."
The Major stood up, took his cane, and walked out of the room.
He had to go out for a while. He needed to see if his dear superior officer was amenable to accepting his leadership.
The Last Battalion was the legacy of a mad empire; they had no need for dissenting voices. His aging superior, 'The Colonel,' needed to state his position, which would then be judged by everyone in the Battalion to see if it was acceptable.
Only in this way could the Last Battalion receive the support that rightfully belonged to Hydra.
There had always been deep historical ties between Hydra, A.I.M., and the Last Battalion. The Red Skull of yesteryear was the best proof of that.
"I thought the Major would be a bit more patient. After waiting all these years, why choose to act now?"
M.O.D.O.K. pressed with another question. He had zero interest in their insane plan, but he had lost the right to choose. The moment the Last Battalion was destroyed, he, M.O.D.O.K., would inevitably face the world's reckoning.
The name 'Hydra' was, in itself, a taboo.
"Because... we felt we couldn't wait any longer."
Smiling, the Major walked directly past M.O.D.O.K., reaching out to pat the side of the villain's massive head.
The cold, metallic sensation of that touch sent a shiver of horror through M.O.D.O.K.
In that moment of close contact, the psychic energy surrounding M.O.D.O.K. finally swept through the Major's body. He suddenly understood the truth of the Major's physiology.
Aside from the brain, almost every part of him had been converted into machinery. The food he had just eaten was currently rotting into a mass in a storage tank within his abdomen.
"Since you've done this to your body... why keep this appearance?"
M.O.D.O.K. asked, genuinely horrified.
He couldn't understand why anyone would modify their body like this yet keep such a form. His own greatest desire was to reverse his hideous exterior and return to his original self. M.O.D.O.K. wanted to shed his identity as a monster and become a man again.
"Because this is what I originally looked like."
The Major left M.O.D.O.K.'s side, his smile unwavering.
With a mechanically augmented body, he could have chosen to look like anything he wished. Yet, he maintained this bloated, powerless physique. The machine merely delayed his aging and death.
The current Major was nothing more than a mobile brain in a jar, controlling a mechanical shell. Chewing and swallowing had long lost their meaning for him; food simply decayed inside his chassis, turning into a pool of foul, malodorous waste.
The Captain said nothing. He simply flexed his newly attached metal arm.
The arm severed by Anderson could not grow back. The Paladin's holy flame had thoroughly incinerated the soul at the point of the injury, and a werewolf's regeneration could not restore the soul.
He offered no opinion on M.O.D.O.K.'s slightly rude psychic scan, as the Major had tacitly permitted it.
A.I.M. was in the same boat as the Last Battalion now. If M.O.D.O.K. didn't want to be swallowed whole, cooperation was his only path. If the Battalion didn't still need the researchers under M.O.D.O.K.'s mental command, he would have lost his value long ago.
A creature that offered little help in terms of combat power wasn't worth much concern to these madmen.
"Major, the aircraft is ready. The Colonel is awaiting your arrival at the designated location."
A vampire soldier saluted—giving the gesture that was banned from the world—and reported to the Major.
The Major raised his hand in response, nodded, and stepped up to the aircraft's hatch.
Following him was a slender woman with a few freckles on her face and round-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.
Rip Van Winkle!
The Huntress!
There was no expensive handbag on the woman's shoulder; instead, she carried an old-fashioned smoothbore musket, with a small cloth pouch hanging from its exceptionally long barrel. Dressed in a neat, tailored suit, she exuded a unique charm. Her long hair flowed past her waist, reflecting a glossy sheen.
Inside the pouch on the gun barrel lay the only bullet Rip Van Winkle possessed.
She needed only one shot, and she had only one bullet.
"Thank you, Rasputin!"
Rip Van Winkle murmured a quiet prayer, then followed the Major onto the plane.
Rasputin's aid to the Third Reich had lasted a long time. That monster, possessing powerful magic, had used a feigned death to escape his original identity. In his pursuit of eternal life, he had provided the Last Battalion with considerable assistance.
This trip was a coup. The Last Battalion needed only one voice.
Thus, combat seemed unavoidable. Even if the Major had already become the supreme leader of the remnants of the Empire, and all the crazed soldiers were drawn to his even crazier charisma.
If all goes smoothly this time, we probably only need to kill one person, Rip thought with a giggle.
" aren't you following your Major?"
M.O.D.O.K. swept his giant eyes over Warrant Officer Schrödinger, who was still standing there grinning.
He had his guesses about this little boy; the name alone revealed much. Even if the original M.O.D.O.K. had been a mediocre researcher, he knew something of Schrödinger, the philandering scientist. Playing with cats, playing with women, then playing with cats again—that was Schrödinger's norm.
"I can appear anywhere. I am only here when you see me. So, when the Major wishes to see me, I shall be by the Major's side."
Schrödinger answered casually, maintaining that naive, innocent tone.
It seemed that no matter the time or place, he viewed everything with disdain. Perhaps for a lifeform that defied description, scorn was the most appropriate attitude toward the world.
"The name Schrödinger... it feels very familiar."
M.O.D.O.K. spoke meaningfully after hearing the introduction.
Possessing superhuman intellect, M.O.D.O.K. was probing, hoping to gain some leverage within the Last Battalion and attempting to ensure he wouldn't be a priority target once the storm passed. He hadn't been the head of A.I.M. for very long, after all.
"I don't want to hear you talk anymore. I might get angry."
Schrödinger's eyes curved into slits as he smiled, making his gaze impossible to read.
Yet, that single, short sentence struck M.O.D.O.K. with a jolt of fear.
Although he couldn't articulate why, M.O.D.O.K. felt that it would not be difficult for this monster in the shape of a little boy to kill him.
And in fact, it was true.
Warrant Officer Schrödinger, who existed everywhere and nowhere, could kill a man simply by appearing inside his brain.
This power, impossible to analyze, made the little boy a terrifying monster.
It was just that he had never used this method to kill anyone yet.
-------------------------------
I've already uploaded 20 chapters of this story on Patreon!
If you enjoy it, come check out the latest chapters in advance.
Here's the link:
[pat*eon*com/DaoistRoeoNQ]
Thank you so much for your support!!!
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"