ic Codex Immortus: Comrade Frost

[Supercape]

West Berlin, 1948

A Cold Winter Night

 

The snow fell lightly through the streets and whilst the air was still there was no denying the chill in the air. This was a defiant city but the blockade was biting, and there was a taste of misery floating in the air. 

 

Mr. Murk tapped his way through the streets. This was no place for a blind man, for charity was drying up even if not gone. And yet, here was an opportunity. He had money to buy on the black market, and a target in sight. Nevertheless, he felt the cold and his stomach rumbled. 

 

One nasty soul had tried to mug him. A blind man. Mr. Murk was a merciful sort by nature, but he had punched the man much harder than he strictly needed too. 

 

Counting the steps, clicking his cane, he knocked on the door of Hertzmann Fine Cigars. Not much call for cigars now. Not much coming in and out of Berlin. It had transformed, by necessity, into a smugglers shop. But it still sold cigars, and Mr Murk's nostrils flared at the sweet aroma as he entered. It was warm, too. 

 

Bathed in the bleak dimension of the Murk, he wore the look of a tall thin German man complete with well groomed blond hair and strong jaw. Best not his real appearance. 

 

He sat down, ordered a pair of cigars, and lit one for himself, waiting for the cold immortal he had seen in his visions to enter. Surely it would not be long now...

Edited December 16, 2017 by Supercape

[Avenger Assembled]

Comrade Frost had very little sympathy for the admittedly-beleaguered citizens of the Soviet zone - in his opinion, if they disliked the feel of the Soviet boot on their chests, they should have done more to throw off the fascist boot before their leader had plunged the world into the worst war the world had ever seen. But he liked old Hertzmann, maybe because the tough old Jew had made a point of reclaiming his shop three years earlier only weeks after Hitler was dead, proof that not all Germans had had the soul beaten out of them by their predecessors. Hertzmann had friends across the border, too - and with walls going up between former allies, it served his interests to have a contact who knew some things. So he'd smoothed things over with the Handelsorganisation and the Red Army, and Hertzmann's friends in the American zones helped smuggle in enough goods for the shop to stay in business - in return for a comfortable place to spend the evening away from his fellow Soviets. 

 

"Satan's balls, it's cold out there!" he declared in accented German as he stormed inside the shop, the temperature of the store dropping noticeably the moment the Soviet ice vampire walked inside. He wore the uniform of a physician in the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs, though his pale skin and the ice on his clothes. Cursing vigorously, he strode up to the counter - the faux-marble tabletop having been salvaged from a dead SS officer's mansion, and dropped a substantial bundle of Soviet rubles onto the table. "What have you got for me today, Leo?" Hertzmann, smiling enigmatically, swept the rubles off the table and provided Peshkov with an American cigar - the Americans always did have the best tobacco. Smiling, Peshkov took out his petrol lighter and struck it up, immediately feeling better (and looking a trifle more human) against the heat. "Good man!" 

[Supercape]

"Gent over there wants a word" replied Hertzmann, giving a wiggle of his eyebrows. "German fellow. Has that look about him" he said in a hushed tone. 

 

"May I offer you a cigar?" asked Murk, pointing his spare cigar roughly in the direction of Frost. He too spoke fluent German. 

 

Whilst roughly pointed, it was clearly not on target. The cigar indicated a point a good foot or two to Frosts left. Mr Murk could of course sense the most peculiar soul of Comrade Frost, but could see not a thing. He was blind, and was playing a blind man. 

 

"If you would be so kind, I would enjoy the company of a fine fellow such as yourself. Russian?" he asked, cocking his head. "I might be mistaken, do forgive me if so. I have an ear for an accent..." he explained, giving a puzzled face. 

 

"These are strange days, and some conversation over a cigar would be a fine way to unpick them, say I!" he smiled, raising his cigar in salute to these very strange days. 

 

"And if you could spare a bottle of brandy and a couple of glasses, Hertzmann, that would be splendid!"

[Avenger Assembled]

Dimitri hmmed. Most blind men in the Soviet zone were that way because of Soviet power. Oh well - what am I worried about? If the man had a weapon to use against him, he would use it and they would see what happened after that. It wouldn't be the first time a friendly conversation in these parts had turned to murder. "Ah yes! Always happy to share a drink and cigar with good German comrade," he said, irony laden in his voice as he walked over to join Murk. Something off about this fellow, he decided after a moment or two. Oh well, if this was one of Kantor's assassins, he was one of Kantor's assassins. He took the cigar and lit it with a great flourish, basking in the heat of the tobacco as he sat down across from Murk. The smoke was exceedingly warm - and the weather outside was cold, something that was if anything less pleasant than it had been before he'd died. This close, Murk could feel the walking cold front that was Frost, as if the heat had been leeched right out of the circle of air around him. 

 

When the brandy arrived, Frost raised it for a toast. "Na Zdorovie!" he commented. "To a truly liberated Berlin, eh?" 

[Supercape]

"Liberty, yes" replied Murk, rather stone faced and equally ossified of tongue. It was fair to say that the Soviet regime was a step up from the horrors of the Nazi one, but there was, he thought, room for improvement. After fifty thousand years, he had come to view democracy as the own safeguard against power. The Soviets proclaimed noble intentions, and of these he approved. But he was not hopeful, and his obscure visions of the coming years did not console him on the matter. 

 

"Any sane man must toast the end of the Nazi blight" he added, a touch of warmth to his voice slowly creeping back in. He took a liberal sip of brandy for further heat. 

 

"But what say you to the years coming? A divided Berlin seems a vexatious situation for the World, does it not?" he inquired. "I confess I see ill fortune ahead. And the world is still scarred from the war behind us...." he mused, sadly. 

 

"You are Russian, I take it?" he asked. "I suppose there is an official answer. And maybe I could press you for an unofficial one, too. This is Hertzmann's after all..."

[Avenger Assembled]

Dimitri considered the man's words, eying him carefully. He doubted his fellows at the NKVD employed fellows such as this to act as agents provocateur - but still, a wise man kept his words to himself. "Our host has enough burdens to carry without adding the burdens of unwise words, I think," he commented dryly. "As for the current situation in this unhappy city, well, if the West seeks united Germany with such vigor, perhaps they could at least wait for us to finish counting bodies of those killed by last one, eh?" He smiled thinly, then realized that of course the blind man couldn't see his face. "I doubt there will be another war," he finally said, studying his brandy as the glass in his hand gradually began to ice over. "We have no appetite for further conflict and our measures are defensive - and the West has no real stomach for carnage. The crisis will continue until they break, and then new agreements will be made." Privately he was beginning to doubt the  blockade would succeed - but openly communicating such thoughts with a stranger was unwise. "As for the divisions of Berlin, well, the Hitlerites wanted a Thousand Year Reich. Perhaps we will give them a thousand reichs instead. As for who I am," he said, as if coming to a decision, "I am Dr. Dimitri Peshkov, but in the war I was known as Comrade Frost." 

[Supercape]

Comrade Frost. 

 

Yes, this was the man he had heard of. Not every detail, of course, but the man he wanted to speak too. A sensible, astute man. Probably had to be, in these times, with his job. 

 

"I have heard of you. The eater of fire. The Count of cold. The Child of the Chill. And many other whispers, some deserved, some not. But from what I hear, Sir, you are a decent sort, or at least as much as can be expected in such times. We are all scarred from the War" he sighed. 

 

He wished he could have stopped it. He tried, in fact, stepping out from the shadows to influence behind the scenes. But he was but a leaf in the wind of history. 

 

"Your story has a thousand versions, of course. And I doubt any of them hits the truth more than in passing. Such is the way of gossip and whispers. Tell me, would you care to share it?"

[Avenger Assembled]

"You ask many questions, my friend, but provide few answers," replied Frost, the temperature in the room dropping a degree or two. "I would think a man in your position in these times would be aware of the dangers of such a debt, eh? To whom do I speak?" 

[Supercape]

"A fair question" replied Murk. He chewed it over only briefly; he had not come here for deception, although he had no aversion to misleading and lying if need be. 

 

"My name is Erasmus Murk" he answered, as he let the Murk dimension fall of him. 

 

Now, in front of Comrade Frost sat a blind Neanderthal albino in the clothes of an English Gentleman. 

 

Hertzmann did not raise his eyebrows, for he knew that Mr Murk had a talent for disguise of the Eldritch variety. He did not understand it, but dealing in the underground of Berlin included the fallout from Hitler's arcane obsession, and he was aware that the arcane was real. He didn't quite understand that Mr. Murk was not, strictly, speaking, human. But of course it would take a blind man not to note he was of most unusual (and ugly) nature. 

 

"I am a Lawyer. English, as it happens" he said, keeping to German. It would not do to let Hertzmann know too much. 

 

Erasmus was quite aware that Comrade Frost could easily overpower him. Freeze the blood or chill the brain. He was not unduly concerned; Comrade Frost did not seem the kind of immortal that did such a thing. And besides, even if the worst came to the worst, Erasmus could dig himself out of whatever grave that buried him in. 

 

"I hope you are not overly alarmed. I suspect you are, as they say, a cool customer" he grinned. 

[Avenger Assembled]

Frost considered this turn of events carefully, glancing quickly over at their host to make sure he wasn't afraid. "Hmm. You have remarkable look," he said, his German growing considerably more accented. If Murk had confessed to being a German citizen from the Soviet zone, it would have been Frost's responsibility to draft him into the service of the state - but a conversation with an Englishman (if man this was, and he was not so sure) carried no such obligations. "Well. I will tell tale." Need to start carrying ways of sniffing out magic, he mused. "In early days of war, Germans laid siege to Leningrad, but we proved of sterner stuff than the believed. I was captured and subject to certain fell experiments at hands of German would-be wizards. But they did not like what they found." He continued speaking, reminding himself that the man across the table could apparently not see his smile. "And your story?" 

[Supercape]

Erasmus nodded, listening carefully, and judging Frost honest. Up to a point. Everyone deceived to a degree, the liar to his friends, the honest man to himself. 

 

"I was born a very long time ago, when the world was brutal and beautiful" he started. "I could not to justice to the long days of my life, at least without driving you mad with boredom. I  have been called by many names. The Godhammer, Blindeye, and so on. As you surely note I am blind, but am able, in a manner of speaking, to see what will come. A prophet, an oracle. The future is obscured and shadowed, but I see it still"

 

He sighed, not entirely happy about his visions. 

 

"And I see times of great change in the decades to come. In the centuries, even. Invasions from other worlds, from cities beneath the seas. A Roman and a Tyrant from other dimensions clash to save or enslave this world....and much much more..." he said, frowning. 

 

"In all this, the life of the immortal is a strange one. And, If I am right, you now will not die? You will live to see the strange days in centuries to come?"

[Avenger Assembled]

"Some would say I am a dead man now, friend Erasmus. My heart does not beat, nor do I breathe save by tricks - but here I am before you." He hmmed again, then said, "I have been told I will live until the end of days," which was true enough for Hel's plan for the world. "Many have tried to kill me, by spells, or bullets, or fire, but - here I am before you." He'd met other immortals during the war, both the recently changed who could not die and beings far older than human wars, but chose not to comment on that at this time. "So far is overrated. Men and women live, they die, and are gone. But - here I am before you." He waved his hand, thinking of the Allies of Freedom, three years in their graves. "The good die young, and the bad. I have seen enough to know that." 

[Supercape]

"Dead, are you?" answered Erasmus carefully. This was more of a tricky matter. A grey area, so to speak. 

 

"Yet you seem to move, seem to speak and think. What then, is death? The chill of an unbeating heart? The stillness of blood and breath? If you are dead, then it seems to me there are many different forms of death, and many that do not deserve that name" he said, finishing his brandy and continuing his smoke. 

 

"As for me, I cannot consider you dead. No, you are alive, Sir. Just transformed" he explained, which was his normal take on those in Comrade Frost's position. That said, many of those in his position were of vile and callous disposition and would very much be better dead. 

 

"I wonder then, what perspective you have on the endless days ahead? If one lives for ever, it is not a question of when you will some deed of noble or ignoble quality, but simply a matter of when. No vice you will not try? No love you will not experience? No horror you will not inflict? Is this, do you think, the nature of the infinite? Anything that it is possible for you to do, no matter how infinitely small in probability, will come to be..."

[Avenger Assembled]

"Porheps a man who lives forever may act forever - but he too may suffer forever." That was one thing Dimitri's patron had discussed with him in intimate detail in the last few years - and one thing he had imagined, for whatever he got his hands on Wilhelm Kantor and the other survivors of the Thule Society. "So such benefits do balance in long-term. There is much suffering in the world." He had seen enough in the war, and before that, to know it with intimate detail. He fell silent, holding his cigar in his hand as he held his palm just above the still-burning tip. "There are ends to everything," he finally said. "Gods die. Stars fall from the sky. Is vanity to speak of true immortality. For myself, I will survive - and do what I can to make that survival mean something."

[Supercape]

It was, thought Murk, a good answer. He had heard plenty worse. 

 

"You reassure me, sir. Vanity and hubris are, by my estimation, the most insidious and dangerous of enemies" he nodded, chewing the smoke in his mouth and the words in his mind. 

 

"For at the end of the day, even if our days stretch before us endlessly, one can only live one day at time. The rest is speculation" he conceded. "But on this matter, I am concerned. What if an immortal is encased miles beneath the earth, to live out endless days in black despair, or worse, torture and agony. The peculiarities of our condition allow horrors to be inflicted on us beyond imaging" he said, a thought that had worried him for many centuries. He had suffered plenty himself, and sometime for long periods (he shuddered at the brutality of the Spanish Inquisition, surely the worst he had had it). 

 

"I have mulled the matter over for some time. I am of the mind to do something about it. I doubt mortal kind can be relied upon to protect us, even if most would shy from inhumane tortures, not all would. And the nature of immortality, even if unbidden, breeds resentment. Even if, as you say, it may not be entirely justified..."

 

He sat back, serious. "What say you? Mayhap it is only immortals who can look after immortals..."

[Avenger Assembled]

"I am, of course, a loyal defender of the Soviet Union and its allies," said Comrade Frost immediately, not troubling to make his lies particularly opaque. "And could make no treaties outside of bonds of fraternal comradeship that are basic to human condition." He hmmed, considering Murk's words. "Have known immortals that deserve eternal suffering. When the good die, and the bad live, what then? What bonds do we have with those whose immortality comes from bathing in the blood of the innocent?" It was a personal metaphor.

[Supercape]

Mr Murk

 

Mr Murk was an astute fellow, and could see through most lies (even the ones the teller believed); when somebody barely made effort to conceal his true feelings, there was a clear understanding. He wondered - Frost may have some loyalties to the Soviet Union, and not without reason (for in his long experience the imposition of communism was a goodly step up from the tyranny of monarchy but lamentably a goodly step down from democracy). But Frost was astute enough to see the failings of the Soviet Union too - its biggest failing, thought Murk, was its inability to recognise its failings. 

 

"You have?" he answered - concerned. He, for himself, did not believe in eternal suffering. "But no crime or demeanour is infinite, surely?" he asked, keen to understand Frost. "And would it not follow that no suffering should be infinite either?" he asked. 

 

"I do not say that the immortal is morally superior. If anything, quite the reverse. My concern is, however, that they are vulnerable. In a unique position to have inhumane treatment imposed on them" he explained, kindly. "What if the Soviet Union, for instance, erroneously decided that your loyalty was lacking, and decided to inflict their worst punishments on you? For the mortal, there is at least the solace that the punishment will be finite" he said, by way of example. 

 

"Incarceration, of course, I would be in full agreement with. Some Immortals are not safe for society". 

[Avenger Assembled]

"Some would call murder an infinite crime, friend Murk. The dead are dead, and ever shall be so - an infinity of possibilities snuffed out at a single stroke." Unbidden, images of the other Allies of Freedom, all dead now, filled his mind. "We can visit the shades of a precious few, but they are - what is what your Dickens said? 'Shadows of things that have been.' Consider the deeds left undone, the stories left untold, the songs left unsung. The children unborn. Now multiply those crimes a dozenfold - or a hundred. Or a million." He smiled thinly. "As for myself, well. I have been damned now for quite some time. A wise man has no illusion of such things." He studied Murk, then said, "And you? What you have you done?"

[Supercape]

"Perhaps murder is" agreed Murk. "I have mulled over that very philosophy many years. And yet, for all its plausibility, I cannot help but wonder..."

 

He paused, stubbed out his cigar. He felt the urge to get drunk, and that was a rare urge for him. But he had not forseen how he would feel, and never did. It was this brooding disgust at the world. 

 

"Forgive me, after so many years, cynicism is my greatest enemy. And, perhaps, in relation to your question, my greatest mistake. You see, I have my deepest regrets not for the things I have done, but for those the things I should have done, and did not. Inactivity. Cynicism. Apathy. Despair..."

 

The emotions tingled at the fringes of his soul. But he held onto hope nonetheless. 

 

"And this has lead me here. What should, we, immortals, do? Proactively, that is? I fear that the mortal soul will tend towards resentment and fear. And this brings hate, and cruelty. I would not excuse the wickedness of our own kind for one moment, but I would protect our kind from wickedness..."

[Avenger Assembled]

"Are we of a kind?" inquired Frost, with frankness in his tone. "I wonder. If you have seen the ages you claim," and it was a claim, he judged, to have that face and all it implied, "you are of an age with the fossils in Zoological Museum of Moscow University. I have seen things." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "But I am but age of a man. I was born not long before the beginning of the war before this one, you know?" He hmmed, tracing an icy finger across the table between them in a way that produced a faint trail of ice. "Ancient powers moved beneath the surface of the last war. That you were not one of them speaks well of you. But what did you _do_?" Frost asked, his tone serious. "Were we pawns on other immortals' chessboard, a little click-clack to listen to while you played your own game? You will pardon my frankness, sir, but these are times that call for them." 

[Supercape]

Mr Murk

 

For a poignant moment, hanging in the Berlin, air, Mr Murk did not reply. Instead, he wept honest tears. When he spoke, he spoke slowly, deep, and true. 

 

"Am of the same kind as man? I have to be. I saw my people die, slowly. All that is left of my race is the genetic echo in yours. I have to believe I am of the same kind as man, or am alone" he said. 

 

"My race is now bones, displayed in museums like you mention. I am the last. And yet, for all this loss, I value life as exquisite and beautiful. How horrible it is, to see the future but obscured, to see the pieces falling into place of war, and yet be unable to stop it. Ah...you see, I cannot do what you can, I can only try to nudge a little here, push a little there, and all from the shadows" he explained. "No man can say he is never a pawn, I am sure. Only Gods can. On the other hand, one must try to be something more"

 

He leaned back, ignoring his tears. 

 

"I play the long game. Perhaps it is all I can do. And perhaps I do not play it well". 

[Avenger Assembled]

"Perhaps we are alike, alike as mirror images. I have lived too much in this world, though not in years - while you have spent too many years in this world, but have been in the world too little. I cannot praise my way - anymore than, I think, you could praise yours. But I will tell you what," said Comrade Frost seriously as he considered the grim implications of the Neanderthals, "we will work deal, you and I. You will spend some time in the world and acting in it - and so will I, in my own way. In some time, if I have not been destroyed, nor you, we will talk again of immortal ethics and what we must do to survive." 

[Supercape]

Mr. Murk

 

"You speak the truth, Sir" replied Mr. Murk. "For the world is changing now faster than it ever did before. And I forsee dangers, perils, and, yes, wonder, greater than ever before a hundred years hence. The Stars themselves will be in the hand of man". 

 

"I have sat back, trying to nudge the future this way or that. But this will no longer suffice, it is true. The future must be pushed one way or another, to avoid calamity. And yet...." he sighed. 

 

"I have the vision, not the strength. You have much more than me, and there are others stronger than you. I operate away from sunlight, not in it. But what strength I have, what influence I have, I will use in form more bold or daring than before. I am, you might say, making preparations...." he said, gravely. 

 

"So, when the net of inter has been laid on the world, when the valley of silicon is holy, and the finger print becomes a helix, then I say we meet again, and wonder upon what to do..."

 

And so...

Edited December 31, 2017 by Supercape

[Supercape]

Much much later...fifty years in fact (give or take)...

 

Freedom City, New Years Eve, 2017, Early Evening. 

 

Mr. Murk

 

Lo! For the preparations had started and nearly finished for the celebration of new year. 

 

Neoannual Jocularity, everyone!

 

Mr. Murk never saw the fireworks, but was assured they were a splendid thing. By and large, he enjoyed the fizzling souls, sparkling around the city, caught up - mainly - with celebration and good will. Yes, there was gloom and frustration, even an anger turn inwards at another year passing without progress. But, as days went, this was a delightful one. 

 

He sat in the club of Club Immortus, Freedom City, enjoying the revelry. The doors were open to various immortals and friends. Free Brandy, free cigars. He had made sure a particular brand of cigar was available today, to smoke on the rooftop. The Freedom City branch of Club Immortus was the most modern and recent. Glass and steel and function, although with hints of elegance and antiquity to keep it in line with its purpose. 

 

Mr Murk did hope Comrade Frost liked it. He had sent the invite by old fashioned post, and was confident that Frost would come - even if just for the Cigars....

 

Maybe I should open up a club in Moscow...he mused to himself. He would certainly need Frost's help on that one...

[Avenger Assembled]

Murk had heard much of Comrade Frost in the decades since their first meeting - and this time was no exception. First came that same distinct drop in temperature, as if the heater in the club had gone on the fritz, then the sound of a Russian-accented voice whose vocal stylings sounded a bit like an actor heavily emphasizing a "stage presence" - then a cold, gloved hand briefly gripped his shoulder. "Ah! I wondered if I would find you here, my friend." Frost took a seat by Murk's side as he looked around the room, the ready smile on his face wasted on the blind Neanderthal but by now force of habit in these situations. "Happy New Year!" he said warmly as he struck a match.