Metamorphosis

Chapter One: The Clothes Maketh The Man

Richtofen slowly awoke before becoming aware of his body's aches and stiffened joints. He must have been out for quite a considerable period of time. As he opened his eyes to assess his surroundings - his vision was flooded with darkness.

He seemed remarkably unfazed by the lack of visibility; opting to calmly begin raising himself up into a sitting position before trying to make sense of the situation. But as Richtofen did so, he felt a weight laying on his right arm. The sudden realisation caused him to instinctively stop moving and lay back down. Though, strangely, he did not seem concerned by the weight itself or even what it was.

Richtofen just lay there - stilly and without moving a muscle. Beneath him, he could feel the hard stone floor as he became aware of the biting cold of his new environment. The frigid air slowly seeped through the reduced layers of his spacesuit. Which caused him to tense and shiver slightly.

However, despite his predicament, he did not seem to be bothered by the sensation. He cast his mind back to the sweltering heat of the fever he experienced back at the cosmodrome - which seemed to instantly put this situation into perspective. After that awful night, he thought it best to shed some of the layers of spacesuit - lest there be a repeat of what happened last time.

In all practicality, the purpose of the extra layers was really better suited to the harsh inhospitable temperatures of space. But on Earth, they merely provided unnecessary weight which only served to make movement more cumbersome. And truthfully, Richtofen was looking forward to being back in his uniform - which was far better than this spacesuit.

Though, the more he thought about it, the more he realised that he had spent years parading the emblems and insignias on his uniform without much consideration until now. Whilst he may have pledged his allliegance to the Nazi party - his allegiance and loyalty was only superficial. It was merely a means to an end to secure funding for Group 935's research - and ultimately, his far grander goal.

Initially, he was vociferously averse to the idea of collaborating with the Nazi administration. But when Dr Maxis broke the news that the decision had already been made he was forced to push his reservations aside - for the greater good.

But Richtofen's dislike for Hitler's regime was not for the same reasons as others. To him, they did not go far enough. Where the sight of an SS insignia would instill fear upon those misfortunate enough to see it; Richtofen would feel tediously underwhelmed.

But regardless of his justifications, it did make him feel good to parade around in a Major General's uniform and bark orders at his underlings. The regimented structure was a far cry from his previous life which - until that point - Richtofen had become far too accustomed to with his lavish lifestyle and luxurious tailored suits. And it was a new experience being at the top of the military food-chain than when he fought in the first world war.

The memories stirred up had reminded Richtofen of the first day he turned up at the tailors. The way he stormed into "Fritz & Sons" that fateful day in Berlin after receiving Mr Gernsberg's invitation. The shop staff had loathed his appearance yet from that day onwards; Richtofen had continued to remain a ferociously loyal patron of the shop.

The day he turned up as a senior offical of the German army; he revelled at the fearful quivering of the employees. But it was the look of bewilderment on the elderly Mr Fritz's face which he remembered even more fondly. The old man nearly keeled over on the spot when Richtofen had arrived to instruct the man to craft him his Major General uniform.

The fine linens and satin fabrics Mr Fritz had been so used to working with at the height of the Weimar Republic had become replaced with thicker more practical fabrics like wool. One by one, his patrons had either gone bankrupt, been exiled under Hitler's rule or become assimilated into the Nazi regime.

Richtofen recalled standing before the mirror whilst his elderly tailor hovering around him like a hummingbird - tending to each detail on the uniform. There had been such a momentous feeling of power which emanated from seeing himself adorned with the fine gold ropes and military regalia. The power he held in such a role had civilians and personel alike cowering wherever he went.

It was the sound of his heavy leather riding boots. Each step he took sent shockwaves and thunderclaps which echoed throughout the buildings he roamed. Heads would snap around apprehensively when they heard him approach. Children would whimper softly as they bowed in fear at the heavy aura Richtofen projected where ever he went.

And there was also one strange perk of the uniform that Richtofen enjoyed more than those of his rank. Whilst many saw it as a mere accessory; Richtofen greatly appreciated the black leather gloves that were part of the uniform. They played to his strange aversion to being touched. He despised the thought of the firm squeeze of the masciline handshake or being greeted with the phoney "la bise" women were all too fond of bestowing. But with his gloves, they provided a protective barrier in his mind - relegating every greeting to a brief physically distant handshake.

It was an ironically juxtaposed trait to have when he also craved intimacy. And the clashing of these traits played a role in the formation of his weird habits - which only served to further his already tentative relationships with others.

Back in the present, a sharp ache shot through Richtofen's back as he lay awkwardly to accommodate the weight on his arm. But even still, he made no effort to free himself from it and get up. Instead, he seemed glued to the ground. In his unknown restrainment, he just continued to remain still as he thought about all that had happened to him up until this point. He grimaced as he thought about how his life had been steered and entangled in the strings of kismet.

He had enjoyed his consequence-free lifestyle after joining the Illuminati in 1925; where he had continued to attend Mr Gernsberg's hunting groups and extravagant parties held by his father, Wolf. But once Hitler rose to power; the fraternity had other plans for him.

They had instructed Richtofen to "surreptitiously" encounter Dr Maxis at a party held at Hohenwerfen Castle in Salzburg, Austria. The Archduke Eugen had been in the process of restoring the fire damaged east and south wings of the castle and had been hosting charity balls to raise money and attract those high up in the chain of Nazi command.

It was this meeting in 1936 where Dr Maxis became beguiled by Richtofen's intellect and immediately invited him to join Group 935. This was exactly what the Illuminati had wanted all along. They wanted to know exactly what these great minds were up to in such a secretive group.

Group 935 itself saw an opportunity in the incumbent Nazi administration. The Führer was all too keen to throw money at even the strangest of pursuits such as excavating quarries laden with old Germanic runes or even locating the Ark of the Covenant itself. So when Group 935 presented their research proposal to create an invincible Germany army of super soldiers; Hitler made sure their every funding need was met and more.

As Dr Maxis' assistant, one of Richtofen's tasks was to travel on trips around the world in order to further Group 935's research. The group's alliance with the Nazi regime had allowed them to construct bases even in the most far flung regions of the world. And it was these bases where where he would sometimes be stationed. But there were also times when Richtofen found himself in less exotic places in order to carry out his research.

And in the midst of the second world war, he found himself trawling through the desolation...

End of part one...