Notoriously Nefarious- The Rise of a Neu Reich Read online

  NOTORIOUSLY NEFARIOUS

  THE RISE OF A NEU REICH

  BOOK 1

  LEGACY 1

  By Sergio Black

  And

  T.D. Writer

  First and foremost, I dedicate this book to:

  Two long lost friends. May I see you again in Heaven or Hell, it will be a deathly reunion; in loving memory of Sam Spitzke and Graye Rueppel.

  Marie Escobar

  Killian Grayeson

  Celia Pool

  Jakob Emswiler

  Justin Evans

  Lacey Davis

  Emanuel Sotomayor

  I would also like to dedicate this book to the many artists and brilliant minds that influenced my writing, and provided the many analogies and historical value within my work. This is a nod to you all.

  Thank you.

  J.K Rowling

  HP. Lovecraft

  George R.R. Martin

  Starset

  Theory of a Deadman

  Breaking Benjamin

  Black Veil Brides

  Palaye Royale

  Motley Crue

  Avenged Sevenfold

  Falling in Reverse

  Escape the Fate

  Eminem

  Megadeth

  My Chemical Romance

  Naruto

  Dragon Ball Z

  Detective Comics

  Marvel

  Star Wars

  Disney

  PROLOGUE

  GENESIS

  In the beginning, there was the ALPHA and the OMEGA, now there’s just HIM...

  (January 1st, 2020, 12 AM- Somewhere in the Petrified Woods of Neu Maine) The twilight of my resurrection is the first night I truly lived, and the final night I genuinely died. The source of my Superior-Abilities is connected through a series of bizarre circumstances that can only be summed up to the pressure of destiny’s will. Rescripting through every plausible scenario, death should be my final chapter. Tonight, the Lunar Eclipse is at its highest peak, orbiting its surface is the Star of Vergina that zips around, out of sight, then repeats itself, in rotations similar to an atom depiction. Its Sixteen Rays flare brighter than the sun and gyrate with unchecked velocity, controlling the heavens, with Olympia’s reawakened power. The hellstorm of magnetic radiation, being expelled from Vergina, magnetizes the solar system, and polarizes a thousand stars so they gravitate toward the blood moon. The incoming comets swallow the lunar surface to create the sigil of a Raven, the amped up eclipse sits at the Raven’s bill and collects cosmic energy from Vergina before spitting scarlet-red firebolts from the bird’s beak, directly into my broken, burnt body. The paralyzing lighting jolts my chest then soaks through my skin and revamps my undead veins with renewed life, defibrillating this once dying heart with more proficiency than Deadpool’s healing factor. The sensation of ecstasy I currently feel is most comparable to a scar-riddled dope addict injecting the purest Heroine humanity has to offer, leaving me barely conscious, chilled, in a cold sweat, but ravaged between a lucid state of bliss and surrealism. The bed of ash I lay upon covers every inch of my collagen from head to toe, smelling of burnt skin and singed hair.

  Lying here, I hone the prowess of my reanimated eyes, then dance them to all corners of the surrounding trees, comparing the environment to what was then and what is now. Nothing is what it was. The Petrified Forest where black jungle grew sickly, scared and mangled, had a plethora of horrific legends defiling it. One of the more mythical claimed the trees themselves were actually ancient almighty-heroes belonging to the Knightz of Olympuz, and countless civilians were lured to their death by the sexy temptations of the unholy sex-pot known as the Beast and the Harlot. The irresistible woman would hypnotize her victims by dancing provocatively, then seduce her targets deep into the thicket by whispering empty promises in their ears of a city paved in gold, that would make the wealthiest kings jealous. Promising more wine than can fill the belly, that not all the drunkards on the planet could consume, and hundreds more ravishing beauties in this sinful paradise more bodacious than her, that could satisfy the ejaculations of every adulterer on earth three times over. Once the Harlot secured the next notch on her belt, she would transform into a beast with horns, impenetrable skin, and countless serpent tails. The Beast would coil her unbreakable tails around her prey, then gaze into their eyes with intoxicating pheromones, she would unwind her honey tasting, serpent tongue and multiply the forks on the end, then tongue punch the throats of her conquests. They would become gluttonous with lust and fall to their knees with infatuation, her victims’ skin would grow black as they descended into madness and fought to the death, impaling another with their swords in hopes of winning her hand in eternal marriage. The slain corpses would be devoured by mother nature, cursed to forever live out their last moments as petrified timber. Endlessly yearning to escape the everlasting purgatory, known to the fearful as a City of Evil… The nightmarish urban legends kept trespassers at bay from the dense forest, giving Neu America the opportunity to take advantage of the public's fear, and use the woods as a guise to construct the neu dissection lab in its centerfold. The foliage among the Petrified Woodland is surprisingly well kept in the aftermath of the explosion, but the abominable hospital was obliterated to oblivion without a trace of its existence; good riddance, the place was practically a homing beacon for psychopaths, sociopaths and mass murderers alike. The last few moments preceding my fatal death and my Superior emergence, I remember blaring alarms, a flood of green light, then time stood still and ceased to be, like a body frozen on Mt. Denali, never to be thawed.

  I’m the only survivor amongst everyone at the deplorable testing site... The maimed, bedeviled soul who was mocked and ridiculed by the fortunate, rich, and privileged will no longer be at the mercy of those who deem themselves above persecution. My whole life, I was forced to conceal my Superior genealogy, moving in the shadows, barricading myself within a wall of well-constructed lies from those who wished me ill-will, simply because of my family ancestry.

  Tonight, the floodgates burst. Soon, I’ll reveal my greatest secrets that'll kick-start the cataclysm and usher the greatest apocalypse the Gods could ever envision. Staring toward the celestial sky, my self-conscience subpoenas several forgotten memories that saturate my mind and are now as clear as a cloudless day on a sunny afternoon. The glisten of the twinkling stars reminds me of her... My late beloved mother, Eden Ann Killstar, used to say, “Don’t be fooled by their beauty. The stars themselves are devils disguised as angels.” Her beautiful face was a jaded etching, fading in my memory up until this moment, but now her picture-perfect portrait is recalled with absolute recollection. It was so long ago and I was so little. The only thing in this revival that fills my heart with despair is not having the strength to save her, and all but forgetting her beautiful face as the decades coldly pass me by… Everything happened so fast I feel like it was yesterday, the loving shimmer of her emerald green eyes, the tangled locks of ruby hair that blew in the warm summer breeze, and the sparkle of her smile that gleamed like uncut diamonds. The night she cruelly perished is one memory I’ll sorrowfully re-experience till the day I expire and cease to remain animate… Reminiscing on the many years of hurt, hatred and heartbreak, I feel a lifetime of raw emotions bubbling through my core, that create a marvelous Recipe that brewed a masterful Disaster. The childhood innocence that was pillaged from me, without regard to my humanity, is something that’s far from being reclaimed. The famous last words mouthed by Eden, stick to my mind, never to be forgotten.

  Seconds before Eden practically shoved me from her second story window, she knelt close to me, encasing my adolescen
t hands in hers, and began kissing my tiny, cold fingers, as she whispered calmly and sweetly without panic. Even in the worst of situations, she had the nerve to keep her composure, “Run, far away my son. It’s the man known as HIM; he’s come for you, and please don’t look back or HE will find you. Just know this world is going to need you one day, the sake of the entire human race now rests in your hands. Run, as fast as your legs will carry you and remember never look back. If you hear mommy scream, don’t be scared, just know I love you more than the stars. No matter where you go or what you do, I will always be with you, in here.” She placed her warm palm on my bony chest and felt my tiny heart throb a final time. Leaning forward she pressed her forehead against mine, as a show of love, respect and adoration. The way she smiled at me through woeful, tearful eyes told me it’d be the final night I’d see my mother sprite, alive and in the flesh.

  Crawling through the square window one foot at a time, I clung onto the sill and stared at the black door, my rising anxiety transformed my mild-diagnosis of turrets into a severe TIC that made my normally inept facial spasms writhe out of place. In my mind’s third eye of physical perception, the rectangular door shrunk, becoming narrower and more evasive with every step HE took, under the weight of creaky footboards. Fright crippled my frail body, the hot breaths which became more rapid finally asphyxiated within me like a constricting boa. I decided in that moment Eden will not die alone. Just as I cultivated enough bravery to crawl back inside and take her hand, my foot stumbled and my 100-pound body plummeted through the chilly night for what felt like eternity. I landed on my back in the damp grass and let out a weak groan, my throbbing spine instantly tensed at the current of pain that rippled up my vertebrae. Wind further robbed my lips, as I wheezed with asthmatic effort, trying hopelessly to suck fresh oxygen into my collapsed lungs. Through sheer will I scrapped through the agony and regained enough of my composure to roll onto my side, giving me a front row ticket to the house of horrors that couldn’t have been better crafted from an H.P. Lovecraft novel. My eyes dilated with terror and tears began to spill down my olive cheeks in violent succession. Subtract fear from the equation, at that moment, all the happy memories we had together were quantified to one horrifying momentous moment and flickered through my mind. I imagined the delightful sound of her pleasant laughter, coupled with the sweet scent of cherry blossom perfume, the expression that would rejoice across her face when she said she loved me through meaningful green eyes.

  The heartwarming movie reel that projected through my brain, ended as I witnessed the door creak open, and in reached a black hand with the longest devilish looking fingernails I’d ever seen, slowly scraping the door from the outside in, which left a trail of purple sparks. I could tell by my mother’s worriment that this was truly the end. The wooden door splintered before exploding off its hinges into small bits of wood chips, the lone light bulb dangling from the white ceiling now tangoed and flickered, the tenebrous shadow of a tall man shrouded the doorway. In HIS mouth were a gold pair of priceless incisors that sparkled when he maliciously grinned. The looming man known as HIM stood at least 9-foot, ripped to the eyeballs and wore a dark oval-brimmed hat that cast a dark silhouette over his ghastly face, like the eerie man-devil Jeepers Creepers. Something struck me as peculiar, HE seemed oddly familiar, the way HE moved and laughed reminded me of someone from a distant past time. There was a lengthy exchange of inaudible banter, HE slowly raised both hands forward, and waved them about masterfully conducting a Symphony of Destruction. Immediately, my mother was harshly thrown and jerked every which way, before a succession of overwhelming lights began cascading from my mother. The divine energy pulled from her being was the separation of souls parting from her physical body. I watched as not one, but seven, dynamic spirits were stripped away, each incarnation of Eden portrayed a different emotion, then whisked away into the tips of his radiant, gold fangs.

  Eden ceased to be strewn around and staggered forward but a few paces until she was unable to move, her knees cracked under her own weight and gave way, she knelt to the hardwood floor, awaiting death at the hands of this mysterious madman. Glancing back at me through the open window, her flawless face was growing saggy and wrinkled beyond repair, her skin turning darker than black. The collagen on her body finally peeled away, flakes of skin floated in the air like specks of snow. She smiled at me through perfect teeth, a single lily-white tear rolled from her eyelid, streaking her cheek; the droplet never hit the ground, before she scattered into a pile of white ash. I was demoralized; the distress at seeing her killed with such ease was real yet unbelievable. My broken heart sank through the pit of my stomach. I reached for Eden and yelled, but my soft voice cracked under my own inner agony. “No! Mother!”

  The man known as HIM lifted his head, following the call of my frugal voice as HE focused HIS apex gaze on me. HIS eyes magnified and sparked with replenished magic, HIS rainbow eyes rippled over with untold force and sang a song of unforgiving evil. The shiver that slithered up my bruised spine was so horrific it was paralyzing. I felt HIS eyes piercing through my skull and straight into the life of my soul. HIS eyes smiled with a cruel menace as HE mouthed the word ‘RUN,’ lifting HIS hand to HIS lips, HE regurgitated a quaint shiny bead into HIS palm and kissed it then levied the silver forward, a white energy manifested and levitated from HIS hand. HE let the orb float to the center of the small beige room, and upon touching ground, the illuminating ball transformed into a spitting image of my mother, the replica sprinted forward and broke out the glass window with a deafening SHATTER! I blinked rapidly and allowed myself to breathe then I began running through the forest of dark shadows that surrounded the red brick house.

  The clone gave chase and copied my every move, she was so fast. As I sprinted faster, she would outmatch me with Olympic expertise. I looked behind my shoulder and not to my surprise, she was gaining on me, her outstretched arm was so persistent, it seemed she would snatch my flailing red shirttail at the blink of an instant. Then, just when I was all but, in her embrace, I turned around to shield myself from the arduous impact and she dispersed into thin air right in front of my eyes. I looked around curiously, then out of nowhere, an echo of vile laughter zoned in on me from all sides of the compact woods. I spun around and tried to find the source of the raspy cackle. Scared out of my wits, I sprinted forward in no particular direction if only it led to safety, and stumbled over slippery shrubs and fallen tree limbs, but somehow kept myself from tumbling over and continued to run for what felt like eternity before I saw a lit open-hearth illuminating a modest log cabin on the other side of the forest. The promise of salvation provided false relief. My escape from the man known as HIM was successful, but destiny was a cruel mistress, fingering my cards with the hand of fate. Just when I was about to sprint across the street, the Eden duplicate came out of nowhere and wrapped her visceral arms around me, her immense strength easily overpowered my insignificant mortal bones. Squeezing me tightly, she opened her mouth and breathed her lifeforce into me. Eden’s vigor invaded my body and pricked my skin with a thousand needles of pain. Fighting against her with all my might I tore myself free, slipped and ended up tumbling into the street. The sound of a diesel engine, and the agonizing thudding of my head off unforgiving asphalt, would mercilessly dictate how I lived my life for decades to come.

  Two days following those preordained events, I woke up in the children’s ward of Neu Mary’s Pediatric Hospital with blurry, stifled vision and a thumping headache that felt like a cerebral aneurysm. Severely deformed and now one-eyed, my once angelic graceful face now resembling that of the ugly Sloth creature from the Goonies. I rested on a small aluminum gurney that was surrounded by white walls coated with green dinosaur graphics. Several tall, beefy Gestapo detectives stood around my bed wearing black uniforms, accompanied by short, elderly physicians in white sterile, tailored lab coats who whispered inaudibly. Rolling my stiff neck to meet my bandaged left shoulder, I rested my deficient sight out the window, looking
into the enchanting field of green, then to the leafy colorful trees into the great beyond, my mind slowly ruminates to another happier realm. I tried not to focus on the agonizing reality of my situation.

  The words MOTHER and DEAD snapped me back to my pitiful existence. I hoped the recent turn of catastrophic events was nothing more than a child’s overactive imaginings. The Gestapo police told me Eden perished in a house nova and everything was burned to ash and therefore nothing was left to bury. My intentional accident left me permanently paralyzed from the waist down, and accurse with long-term memory dysfunction, but also blessed me with a mega-brilliance that rivaled some of the universe’s most prominent intelligence...

  The day of mother’s funeral was sordid and miserable, and I was the sole attendee aside from the temporary guardian appointed by the Neu Bethany Christian Services, whose custody I was placed in. The numbing snowfall of Midday September nipped the cold air, lashing my face like tiny weeping willow whips. Immaculate ice crystals poured from the sky in anger as I had never witnessed, immense black clouds rolled from a distance, claps of wrathful thunder cried through the atmosphere for miles around. Large cyclones of wind blew rapidly around my rusted hand-me-down wheelchair. I liked to think that the freak storm was the heavens weeping for Eden, that she was somehow with me at this very moment. Propped next to me was a collapsible brown metal chair, a colorless cheap boom box playing Breaking Benjamins- Ashes of Eden; I let the melodic voice of Ben’s relatable music teleport me to another dimension of pleasurable memories. I stared into the brown wood casket that smelled like dread, and held a large bundle of black thorned roses. The Gestapo detective who watched over the funeral was a stout man wearing a classic leather uniform who sort of resembled Harvey Dent from the Batman comics, minus the chalky skin and huge beard brandished by Sergeant Chad Bradford of the Neu Lawrence Police Department. He tenderly clasped his humongous hand on my shoulder, his polish sausage sized fingers engulfing my clavicle, looking down on me. I was more accepting of this gesture, knowing his actions came from human kindness and not out of duty, pity or a sense of self-righteousness for the Gestapo’s murderous reputation, the stranger was awfully kind.