The Masterson Chronicles
( by Vintagetales)
(This series of stories is set in an alternative past of the 1930s. It was a time of scientific breakthroughs. Of superstition. Of witchcraft. Of Zeppelins. Of ocean going ships. When the telephone was cutting edge. Of Fedora hats. Of Can-Can dancers. Nightclub singers. There were men, there were women and there were Futas... oh boy were there Futas. A time of adventurers and explorers. Of inventors and scientists. Of villains and mad Doctors... A time for Heroes...)
Chapter 1: A Break with Tradition.
August 1931. Somewhere in the Bavarian Alps.....
The rain drummed a steady beat on the windowpane. Doctor Hilda Kassenberg watched the headlights of two cars as they laboured to ascend the switch back mountain road. Castle Strassenhiem had a particularly good view of all the approaches to its gates, but then again the purpose of its construction had been to dominate this particular Bavarian valley. Its towering visage above the steep valley cliffs made it look like it had been taken from the pages of a child's fairy tale. Multiple turrets, great halls, gently curving marble staircases and of course deep and foreboding dungeons. In the bright summer sunshine it could be the home of a beautiful Princess. However on dark overcast evenings like this one it took on a most nefarious aspect. It was the ideal headquarters for a secretive reclusive organisation.
She had acquired it with a minimum of fuss. It hadn't been for sale, but then again it hadn't truly changed hands. Hilda was vaguely aware that the owner, Contessa Strassenhiem, was still somewhere about the premise. Her newly acquired memories allowed for such flexibility when it came to history. Currently, as far as the Contessa understood, the good Doctor had always been here, as had all her entourage. It was so nice to work with the weak minded, the easily led, the highly susceptible. The ones coming to visit now would not be so easily manipulated. A different form of leverage would have to be used. Hope. Perhaps the greatest lever of them all. In a laboratory several floors below research was being carried out that would provide such hope. As well as countless useful by-products for her other endeavours.
Her spy in Stuttgart deserved a generous bonus, her information had been exemplary. Their visitors Zeppelin could only have arrived yesterday evening, and they would not have appeared on the manifest. Yet she had received the telegram late last night detailing their number, mode of transportation and likely route. Good work, very good work indeed. Her rewards were lavish for outstanding performance, as could be her punishments for failure. Various pieces were now falling into place, she only had to give them the right.... motivation and the results would be inevitable.
She lit a cigarette and placed it in a long stemmed holder before taking a puff. This was how the sophisticated movie stars in Hollywood did it. She caught sight of herself in the window's reflection. The tight white double breasted military style tunic was a snug fit. Her small breasts barely made any impression on it's line. Crossing her arm and she cupped the opposite elbow framing her face. She liked what the pose did for her. The shadow, the contrast, it made her feel powerful, yet thoughtful. A face worthy of the aristocracy of Bavaria.
She herself was born in Lucerne Switzerland. Sharp blue eyes, heavily lidded. Ruby red lips that could be described as sensual on the rare occasions she smiled. Her skin was alabaster pale, contrasting with her glossy jet black hair, which she kept shoulder length for convenience. Turning away from the window and strode to the huge polished wooden desk in the centre of the room. It, like everything else, was formerly the Contessa's. Well technically it was still the Contessa's, but like so many things, she no longer remembered that. The boot heels clicked on the marble floor before stepping onto the thick dark red carpet. Black leather riding boots, how she loved the feel as they gripped and hugged her calf muscles. Above them, tight form fitting trousers caressed her thighs and encased her large shapely hips and buttocks. They rotated and gently swayed as she moved. Her tunic did nothing to cover them, in fact if anything they drew attention to them. Nature had dealt her few physical cards. Mentally the deck was stacked, but in this one instance, she had been played a perfect shapely heart shaped ace. Sitting at the desk picked up the telephones heavy receiver and dialled a single number.
Misaki Nakamura sat patiently waiting, she had not moved a muscle for twenty minutes. Wilhelmina, Doctor Von Kassenbergs blonde haired assistant, had offered her and her entourage the customary 'drinks and refreshments' that passed as courtesy here in the west. Natsumi, 'her' assistant, had refused on their behalf. The Geisha now stood silently behind her chair to the right. Natsumi was pleasant with outsiders and answered all their inquiries, rarely needing to refer to her mistress for instruction. She spoke multiple languages but in this company, she had been instructed to speak only English. It was always good to let people think you were more limited than was true. About five minutes into their wait her other 'assistant' Kaida, chirped up."The European witch seeks to insult you with this delay Mistress!"
She wasn't wrong, but there was a time and a place to voice such opinions. Misaki sharply raised the first finger of her left hand in response, but it was enough to silence Kaida immediately. She quickly retook her place behind her mistress and to the left, with her head bowed in shame. Such impatience. There would be retribution for the outburst. There was an order to things. One must know one's place in that order. Misaki Nakamura had recently risen to her position, but others still needed to learn. Lessons could be... rigorous..... demanding.... but ultimately the results were satisfying.
The trio made for an interesting group. Natsumi, the translator, was dressed in a traditional Kimono with her hair styled accordingly. Her posture suggested she was the perfect subservient geisha. At least outwardly. Kaida was similarly dressed, but her long dark hair flowed freely down her back. On her left she wore a Katana, Misaki also knew she had a concealed Mauser C96 on her. She was not so much a servant as her apprentice. Kaida was young, the youngest of the group. Misaki Nakamura had held that same position not so long ago, but time had moved on. Things had changed, and change was good.
She sat comfortably relaxed in the arm chair, dressed in a black tuxedo. Her hair was in a modern bob cut with a streak of purple off centre. She was every bit the modern woman, the cutting edge of modern society, utterly at odds with the appearance of her two companions. Only one thing evoked the traditional position she had inherited. Only one trapping had survived the transition to the modern world. The world of Oil, electricity and industry. The Katana. It stood perfectly upright. Its blade, hidden from sight by a glossy ebony sheath. The golden hand guard shown in the light, the handle clasped firmly in her right hand. The hand of a Samurai.
The door to the reception room opened and Doctor Hilda Van Kassenberg entered. She took in the trio and glanced to Wilhelmina.
"Our guests have no refreshments?" It was more of a statement than a question.
"No, mein Doctor, I offered, but they refused," replied Wilhelmina, before asking, "vould you care for something yourself?"
The Doctor considered the etiquette of the situation and inwardly smiled.
"Yes, the Château Margaux Wilhelmina," she answered. Wilhelmina poured the red and quickly passed it over.
