The Ritual Site - Scotland
The rain fell in sheets, cold and unforgiving.
From the dry safety of the observation tent, Ernst watched Rasputin strip off his shirt.
The Mad Monk's body was a roadmap of scars and occult tattoos.
Rasputin handed a thick, black book to Ilsa Haupstein.
The Grimoire, Ernst noted.
He knows he might not survive this.
He's passing the torch.
Rasputin walked to the altar.
At a signal from Kroenen, two soldiers hauled a heavy wooden crate forward.
Rasputin opened it and retrieved a massive, articulated metal gauntlet.
He strapped it onto his right hand.
Ernst adjusted his glasses.
A mechanical focus. It mimics the Right Hand of Doom, Hellboy's stone hand.
Rasputin is trying to pick the lock because he doesn't have the key yet.
"Initiate!" Rasputin roared over the storm.
Ernst threw the switch on the console.
The Tesseract batteries hummed, and the massive ring began to spin.
Electricity arced, and reality screamed.
A hole in the world opened above the altar.
It was a swirling vortex of black and red, a window into the Abyss.
"I see them!" Rasputin laughed maniacally, bracing himself against the tremendous suction of the void.
His skin rippled like water, his eyes rolling back into his head as he gazed into the prison of the Ogdru Jahad.
While everyone stared at the sky, Ernst reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a small, metallic sphere, a dimensional anchor he had built using Tesseract tech.
Flick.
With a casual motion, Ernst tossed the bead into the slipstream.
It was sucked into the portal instantly, vanishing into the other dimension.
Beacon planted, Ernst thought with satisfaction.
Now I have the coordinates to the Old Gods' prison. Maybe I'll visit them later.
BOOM.
A grenade exploded near the generator.
The Nazi soldiers scrambled, shouting orders.
"Enemy attack!"
On the ridge, muzzle flashes lit up the night.
The Allied strike team, led by Professor Bruttenholm, was charging down the hill.
"Protect the Master!" Kroenen hissed.
The Clockwork Assassin moved like a spider.
He drew his twin tonfa-blades, spinning them into a blur that deflected bullets.
He danced through the hail of fire, slicing through the lead soldiers like they were paper.
Ernst watched from behind Azazel's protective barrier, unimpressed.
Kroenen is skilled, but he's just a man in a mask.
Then, the air changed.
A golden lasso snapped out of the darkness, wrapping around Kroenen's wrist.
"What, " Kroenen gasped.
With a violent yank, he was pulled off his feet and slammed into a stone pillar.
The impact cracked the masonry.
A figure landed in the center of the courtyard.
She wore red, blue, and gold armor.
A tiara sat on her brow, and a sword gleamed in her hand.
She radiated raw, divine power.
Diana Prince. Wonder Woman.
Ernst's eyes widened.
A crossover. Fascinating.
He quickly deduced the logic.
The Allies knew Rasputin was a magical threat.
They wouldn't just send soldiers; they would send their own heavy hitter.
They sent a Demigod to kill a Sorcerer.
"You again," Kroenen rasped, pulling himself from the rubble.
His mechanical heart clicked loudly.
"I should have killed you in Belgium."
"You tried," Diana said, her voice calm and regal.
"Surrender, Kroenen. Your war ends tonight."
"Never!"
Kroenen attacked. He was a blur of steel, his blades aiming for Diana's throat.
But he was fighting a Goddess.
Diana didn't even dodge.
She parried his strikes with her indestructible bracelets. Clang. Clang. Clang.
Then, she moved. It was a simple shield bash, but it hit Kroenen with the force of a freight train.
He flew backward, crashing through a wooden scaffolding.
Ernst watched, calculating.
Kroenen is outclassed. He is a surgical knife; she is a nuclear bomb.
If I don't intervene, she will dismantle him in ten seconds, and then she comes for me.
He needed data. He needed to know how a mutant teleporter stacked up against an Amazon.
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