CHAPTER THREE

NAZIS IN THE CENTER OF THE EARTH

“Nazis. I hate these guys,” I muttered.

Part of it is because I’m Jewish. Part of it is because I’m not a fan of white supremacists in general. But the thing that irritates me most about them is that they just won’t frigging die out already. I don’t throw the label of Nazi around lightly either. On my world, it’s not just an Internet insult.

There’s a bunch of actual WW2 supervillains out there still partying like it’s 1939 and have a distressing number of fanboys. People who fail to realize whether you do it “ironically” or not, waving the red and black flag is pretty much a declaration of intent. Either way, I have a simple rule when it comes to the Sieg Heil crowd. I kill them. I’ve even gone to multiple parallel Earths and killed Hitler dozens of times. Usually, that just meant someone much smarter took his place (Tom Terror and President Omega were the usual candidates) but I still consider it a net positive activity.

“Wait for me,” Jane said, following me around with Mindy in hand.

“What, you want a piece of the action?” I asked, hoping it was a bloody and vicious mission Gabrielle brought to me.

“I’m a part-Native American, so yes,” Jane said.

I blinked. “Did the Nazis do anything to the Native—”

Jane glared at me.

“Welcome aboard,” I said, raising my hands in surrender.

Cindy waved me off while G followed at a discreet distance. My sister Kerri was at the supermarket. As mentioned, I hadn’t seen Diabloman in a year and it was bothering me that he hadn’t even tried to stay in touch. I knew his guilt over his sister’s death—okay, murdering her—was a big deal but she was back now, so hopefully he’d get over it. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the best logic, but I missed the big guy.

I pushed open the doors to the Warren Estate’s study and found myself in a room that looked like a movie set. There was a huge six-foot-in-diameter globe next to the door, two stories’ worth of bookshelves, framed maps, and some black-and-white photos from Uther Warren’s days adventuring with Allan Quatermain. Uther Warren was the least racist Great White Hunter who ever lived (that was serious damning with faint praise) and the architect of the Warren Family fortune.

The room had numerous leopard-print sofas, couches, and chairs that were, thankfully, all fake. Apparently, either Uther Warren wasn’t really that good of a hunter (though a genius at negotiating trade deals) or his descendants didn’t like sitting on murdered exotic animals. I say that as a carnivore by the way.

There were four people present in the room, only one of whom I recognized.

The first of them was Gabrielle Anders, the mother of my second child and one of the three women I’d loved in my life (yes, I’m aware that’s selfish). She was a beautiful brown-haired woman of mixed African and Latino descent. Gabrielle wasn’t wearing her Ultragoddess outfit, but a sweater, headband, and skirt that made her look like a grad student from the Sixties. She was the daughter of the late Ultragod and ace reporter Polly Perkins, as blue a blood among superheroes as you could get. Why she was with me, if she was with me, was anyone’s guess.

The other three individuals were, indeed, characters out of Pulp novels. Well, characters who looked like movie characters based on old Pulp novels. The first of them was a tall, muscular black man with a Stetson hat and a duster. There was an aura about him like I’d sensed in the Death Orb and his shadow had tentacles that moved on their own. Basically, he was something magical and terrifying like the Great Beasts that lived between dimensions.

Standing beside him was a black-haired woman who very much resembled an Asian Lara Croft, the reboot version versus original shorts and tank top version. I sensed an aura of magic coming from her equivalent to my own (i.e. a solid B-lister). Finally, there was a muscular blonde woman dressed in animal furs and face-paint who looked like Frank Frazetta had drawn her, and then given her more clothes. She had a feathered spear in hand.

“Hello, Gary,” Gabrielle said, looking at me as if she half expected me to be covered in someone’s blood.

“What?” I asked, wondering why I was getting the stink eye.

“Ahem,” Gabrielle gestured down to my feet.

Then I looked down at my shoes and saw they were covered in gore. “Oh, right. I should have cleaned off the guy I murdered before I came in.”

Gabrielle felt her face. “Oh, Gary.”

“Believe me when I say he had it coming,” I said, raising my hands.

“Killing people is—”

“He threatened Mindy and Leia,” I said. “He said he was going to put them down.”

Gabrielle stared. “I’m not going to say you did the right thing, but I’m not going to say you did the wrong thing either.”

Ultragoddess was a bit more hardcore than her father, Ultragod. Most superheroes believed the Ultragod Family were paragons of “Thou Shall Not Kill.” The truth was that they tried hard not to kill people, but if it was a choice between killing someone or saving innocent lives, they chose the latter. The difference between them and me was that they weren’t executioners. If you were subdued, be you misguided antihero or monster, they left you alone. It’s the only reason Tom Terror is still breathing. I consider that unfortunate.

“I take it those are your kids?” Asian Lara Croft asked. Wait, was that racist? Woman who looked like an Asian Lara Croft? Okay, I just needed to ask her name.

“Her kid and a half,” I said, shrugging. “Mindy is her child with me and she’s Leia’s stepmother except for the part about not being married to me. We’re a modern Space Age family.”

I wasn’t even sure how our relationship presently stood since she stopped by for booty calls and the occasional date but was soon off to cap volcanos or knock meteorites off their course. It wasn’t exactly the most stable relationship and had disrupted just about every other one I was involved in. I still loved her.

“I love Leia like my own,” Gabrielle said.

“You can have her at a reasonably low price!” Cindy said, walking in. She was wearing her full Red Riding Hood costume and her hair perfect. I did a double take.

Jane stepped away from Cindy, holding Mindy protectively. Gabrielle then snatched her away with a glowing Ultra-Force energy field that gently levitated her daughter into her arms.

“You are like the worst mother ever,” I said, shaking my head.

“Not true as long as my mother is alive and suffering in the shitty nursing home I’ve got her under guard at,” Cindy said. “That reminds me, I need to borrow the car so I can go down there to gloat over her paralyzed form. I also need to whip up the drugs to make sure she stays that way.”

Cindy didn’t like her mom. I don’t know if you, the audience, picked up on that. Something about selling her into prostitution as a pre-teen. Yeah. Her backstory is surprisingly dark for such a fun gal.

“Real bunch of winners you have here,” the tall black man with the creepy shadow said. Okay, seriously, I had to introduce myself.

“Hello, I am Gary Karkofsky, a.k.a Merciless: The Supervillain without Mercy! I make the villains fall down! Also, heroes.”

Okay, not my best introduction.

The newcomers exchanged a glance.

“Yeah, we know that,” the Asian woman said. “That’s why we came here to get your help.”

“And you are?” I asked, wondering who my new fans were.

“They’re John Henry Booth and Mercury Halsey Takahashi,” Cindy said, as if this was perfectly apparent.

“Wait, the protagonists from the Cthulhu Armageddon books?” I asked, surprised. “The cheesy post-apocalypse fantasy novels?”

“Protagonists?” Mercury asked.

“Everyone’s fiction is real somewhere,” Case explained to them. “It’s weird but an actual idea in string theory.”

“A sure sign of why most quantum physics is probably the result of copious pot use,” Cindy replied. “I’m dating like two physicists right now.”

“The Cthulhu Armageddon books by C.T. Phipps?” I continued, surprised. “I hate that guy! He just makes cheesy one-liners and sets his books as parodies of other, more interesting works. Like H.P. Lovecraft and you guys.”

“Huh?” John asked.

“Cthulhuworld,” I pointed out. “That’s where you’re from, right?”

Both Mercury and John flinched at the name of Cthulhu.

“Oh, right, because he’s real in your world,” I said, making finger guns. “He’s not a guy you adapted to plush toys and house slippers.”

“Cthulhu is a monster. It’s killed billions,” John said, dryly.

I grimaced. “Right, I’ll try not to mention him, Yog-Sothoth, Azathoth, Shug-Niggurath, Nyarlathotep—”

Mercury and John looked ready to duck under the nearest table.

“Hastur, Hastur again, Hastur for a third time and yet he doesn’t appear. I always thought that was cool, even if Beetlejuice and Candyman stole it. The Color from Outer Space, shoggoths, the Elder Things, the Deep Ones—”

John pulled out his sidearm and shot in the air. Little bits of plaster from the room’s ceiling rained down on us.

“Oh,” I said, pausing. “Is this bothering you?”

John narrowed his eyes.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said, shrugging. Yeah, it’s true I just can’t stop being a jackass no matter how hard I try—which usually isn’t very hard.

“I absolutely love the works of H.P. Lovecraft except for the racism and sexism. At least he had the presence of mind to marry a Jewish woman.”

“You seem oddly familiar with a semi-famous writer from the early twentieth century,” John said.

“I’m a white male tabletop roleplaying gamer who played in the early Nineties,” I said, shrugging. “He casts a big shadow in my circles even if he never made it mainstream. Mindy sleeps with a little doll of him.”

“I find that horrifying,” John said.

“Idols help ward off evil spirits,” the girl dressed like central casting’s idea of a sexy primitive tribeswoman said.

Gabrielle held Mindy close. “They need your help, Gary.”

“I didn’t think they were dropping by here for a social call,” I said, frowning. “Only my friends do that. Then they never leave. By the way, Jane, Case, I’m referring to you.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Jane said, rolling her eyes.

“So, what do you want, and how does it deal with Nazis I can kill?” I paused. “I’m up for anything involving getting out of the country and killing fascists. Mostly because I’m probably going to be a fugitive here soon.”

“Are you sure this is the guy you want to help us?” John asked Gabrielle.

“He’s usually less…murdery,” Gabrielle said.

“I’m not complaining, just asking,” John said. “Fuck Nazis.”

Okay, I was starting to like these people. Even if they did come from a silly world.

“So who are you?” I asked the blonde woman with the spear.

“I am Reyan,” the blonde woman finally spoke. “I am the Champion of Nub’Ab’Sul.”

“Not familiar with that locale, Swedish-looking tribal person,” I said.

“They’re the descendants of Vikings who descended the tunnels of Hel to the Hollow Earth,” the woman said.

I blinked. “The Hollow Earth?”

“Yes, the center of the Earth is actually a big glowing orb that is surrounded by a hollow sphere that has its own ecosystem built on the interior. It’s a place full of dinosaurs, jungles, lost civilizations, and alien peoples that predate the evolution of humanity.”

“And why haven’t I heard of this place?” I asked, blinking. “I mean aside from the fact that it violates everything we know about geology.”

“Now you’re complaining about the laws of science?” Case asked, glancing at me. “In a universe where people fly?”

“What’s weird about people flying?” I asked, confused.

Case shook his head.

“So, the Nazis are invading the Hollow Earth?” I asked, confused. “Also, how do the Cthulhu people fit into this?”

“Please stop calling us that,” Mercury said.

“I’m just asking—why me?” I’m not exactly the kind of person you’d go to for most of your heroics. Hell, Gabrielle is at the top of the list and she was right there. It’s not like any superhero ever turned down a round of Nazi bashing. Even with the death of Ultragod, the Nightwalker, Nighthuntress (oh, Mandy), Sunlight, the Prismatic Commando—okay, I was just starting to realize that a lot of heroes were dead.

“We’ll get to that. First, you have to know what the situation is,” Reyan said. “Five years ago, our world was invaded by P.H.A.N.T.O.M. Our people managed to drive off the Nazis when they invaded during World War Two, but they made random incursions in between. This time, they came to stay. They brought tanks, gunships, rocket-packs, and energy weapons. Close to ten thousand warriors set themselves up in our land before enslaving city after city. They put the people to work in mines and dig sites, attempting to unearth the ancient Pre-Atlantean ruins in search of something. We think it might be ancient Ultranian technology.”

P.H.A.N.T.O.M was the world’s largest terrorist organization. They were composed of ex-Nazis wielding weapons provided for them to by aliens like the Tsavong and Thran. The group had been kicking around since 1945 and never quite managed to be completely wiped out despite the entire world standing against them. Several times their defeat had been declared, only for them to slither off into their hole and rebuild. The Society of Superheroes thought they’d really been wiped out, five years earlier. I wasn’t surprised to find out they’d just relocated.

“The Ultranians created the Hollow Earth as a refuge for dying peoples,” Gabrielle explained. “Also for species that might otherwise be lost to history. They abandoned the facility centuries ago but left behind much of their advanced equipment. Some of this equipment is capable of visiting parallel worlds.”

Jane and Case exchanged a glance.

“Which is where you guys come in,” I pointed to John and Mercury.

“Yes,” John said, his voice deep and heavy like James Earl Jones. “Our world is a devastated wasteland, but it has powerful magical relics they’re utilizing to harness the power of the Smoky God, their miniature sun. They’ve also taken a lot of slaves from our world. We followed them back through their portal to rescue our people.”

“It’s also an opportunity,” Mercury said. “Once we’ve dealt with P.H.A.N.T.O.M, that world would be a perfect place to settle the survivors of our own. There’s not many left and this planet isn’t overrun by the Great Old Ones.”

“I’m pretty sure the locals will object,” Gabrielle said, perhaps hoping to head off the Age of Imperialism 2.0.

“We will be happy to let some of them stay,” Reyan said. “As long as they don’t bring smallpox, venereal disease, or false religions. We worship the one true god Odin and his relations.”

“Yes,” Jane interjected. “Make sure you give any and all European-descended people hand sanitizer. You won’t regret it.”

“Right, so Nazis in the center of the Earth, stealing crap, and doing their usual Nazi thing. Go kill them. So far, this is very straightforward.”

“You have a different definition of straightforward than I do,” Case said, looking over at me.

I waved him away. “What’s the catch? Why are you coming to me? I mean, this seems like a typical job for the Society of Superheroes. They are, after all, a literal army of good guys meant to take down threats no one hero can accomplish.”

Last I checked, the Society of Superheroes had been taken over by Ultragodling. Ultragod’s foster son and boy sidekick (now a man in his late forties) had replaced Guinevere and taken the organization in a more militant, pro-government direction. He hadn’t gotten superheroes authorized to operate in the United States yet but was close. I didn’t like the guy, since he considered me to have stained Gabrielle’s honor or something.

Gabrielle played with Mindy’s nose before answering. “That’s the catch. We didn’t come to you first, Gary. The Society of Superheroes went to liberate the Hollow Earth last week. I was there. We lost. They’ve all been captured by P.H.A.N.T.O.M.”