FIC: Devil's Salvation
Title: Devil's Salvation
Rating: PG (due to Nazis)
Characters: Johann Schmidt, Abraham Erskine
Genre: Gen, Foreshadowing
Prompt: I like the inner conflict and doubts in the minds of villains, but I'm seriously burned out on all the Loki's-not-so-bad stuff- Can we get it with someone else? Preferably someone generally seen as an unambiguous asshole of a villain, like Stane or Ross- were they always that way, or how did it happen? Do they ever have second thoughts?
I don't want them in leather pants or anything, I want them to still be people who would do horrible things with few or no regrets... just slightly more complicated people.
(Red Skull might be a good one for this, now that I come to think of it- if "bad becomes worse", does that mean he was less bad before?) At Avengerskink
Summary: Schmidt rescues Dr. Erskine.
The first time Abraham Erskine met Schmidt, he was running for his life.
He was not a young man, and he could feel the burn of exertion working its way up his legs into his chest as the drab streets of Berlin sped by too slowly. Behind him, he knew, the Gestapo men were getting closer and closer, gaining on him easily.
He turned his head back for a moment, trying to spot them - and then he smacked headfirst into someone, knocking both of them to the ground.
Abraham stared, wide-eyed, at the man he'd just hit. He saw a scrawny middle aged man with heavy brows and a mouth set into a frown.
The man was staring back at him, and Abraham saw his eyes flick first to the yellow star sewn onto his shirt. The man's lip curled in disgust - but then he glanced up to Abraham's face, and the disgust vanished into shock. "Dr. Erskine - ?" he said, as if he recognized Abraham.
"Yes," Abraham said, taking a chance on this man's good graces because otherwise he was going to die. "Please, the Gestapo are chasing me - "
The man blinked. "Of course they are," he said, and then he pushed Abraham off of him and scrambled to his feet. "Here." He pulled off his jacket and passed it to Abraham. "Cover up the Jew star."
Confused but intensely grateful that this man intended to help him, Abraham put the jacket on and buttoned it so that it hid the yellow star on his shirt.
"Come on!" the man said, irritated. He grabbed Abraham's upper arm and pulled him roughly along.
On the grounds that his situation could hardly get worse, Abraham followed him, and was pulled into an alleyway and then into a twisting, turning path through Berlin's alleys. The other man led the way without hesitation and never came up against a dead end. Abraham couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the first time this man had had to lose the police in a hurry.
Finally, both out of breath, they found themselves in one of Berlin's more prosperous districts.
"Get in quickly before anyone sees you," the man snapped, unlocking the door to a house. Abraham did so, stepping into a bare, sparse living room. He collapsed onto the nearest piece of furniture and took a moment to breathe and thank God that he had survived.
"Thank you," he said to his rescuer, once he'd caught his breath. "I was certain I was done for. I fear I don't recognize you; have we met before?"
The other man's lips twisted into an approximation of a smile. "No. But I know you, Dr. Erskine. Hauptsturmfuhrer Schmidt."
Abraham stared at Schmidt, too tired and too baffled to be afraid. “I don’t recall making the acquaintance of any members of the SS. Certainly not the friendly acquaintance.”
“I know you by your work, Doctor. I was most impressed by your paper - Effects of vita-ray exposure in M. musculus?”
Abraham blinked. “Ah, thank you,” he said, wondering why in the world an SS captain spent his time reading obscure scientific papers - much less those written by Jews. He paused, and then flatly asked, “Are you going to turn me in?”
“No, of course not! A mind such as yours deserves better than to rot in a concentration camp.” Schmidt began to pace. “The Nazis, Doctor, believe that they are the Übermenschen. But you and I know that to be superhuman is to be more than merely Aryan. The man who sits complacent and believes himself to be perfect because of his race is no better than the common rabble. But you - ” Schmidt stopped in front of Abraham, “ - you know a better way, don’t you?”
Abraham knew immediately what Schmidt was talking about, and he went cold. “It’s - I’ve never tested it on human subjects.”
“But you speculated that it could work, didn’t you?” Schmidt said. His eyes were bright.
“Speculated, yes,” Abraham said. “But I don’t know - what do you want from me?”
“I want to see the birth of the true Übermensch,” Schmidt said. “I want to see Hitler struck down and a better order put in his place. I want to see a society where a man is judged on his worth, not on his race.”
“Then why are you in the SS?” Abraham asked, suspicious.
Schmidt shrugged, indifferently. “One can accomplish little without power.”
“Power at what cost?” Abraham said.
“At any,” Schmidt answered, immediately. “Even my own life. Dr. Erskine, if you need a volunteer to test the serum on . . . I will have no regrets.”
Abraham was alarmed by his answer, and frowned. “And if I refuse to help you?”
Schmidt took some time to consider this. “I would hardly want someone under duress putting anything in my veins.”
Abraham swallowed. “And when - if - I finished my work?”
Schmidt frowned. “You are in no danger from me, Doctor. I told you, a mind as brilliant as yours does not deserve to rot away in a concentration camp. With that said, however, I do not necessarily have the means to get you out of Germany. I can offer you a job - working on the serum, or not, as you choose - but that’s all I can do.”
Abraham looked away. “Then I must do what I must.”
Schmidt smiled like a death’s head. “Don’t worry, Doctor. I will keep you safe.”
Rating: PG (due to Nazis)
Characters: Johann Schmidt, Abraham Erskine
Genre: Gen, Foreshadowing
Prompt: I like the inner conflict and doubts in the minds of villains, but I'm seriously burned out on all the Loki's-not-so-bad stuff- Can we get it with someone else? Preferably someone generally seen as an unambiguous asshole of a villain, like Stane or Ross- were they always that way, or how did it happen? Do they ever have second thoughts?
I don't want them in leather pants or anything, I want them to still be people who would do horrible things with few or no regrets... just slightly more complicated people.
(Red Skull might be a good one for this, now that I come to think of it- if "bad becomes worse", does that mean he was less bad before?) At Avengerskink
Summary: Schmidt rescues Dr. Erskine.
The first time Abraham Erskine met Schmidt, he was running for his life.
He was not a young man, and he could feel the burn of exertion working its way up his legs into his chest as the drab streets of Berlin sped by too slowly. Behind him, he knew, the Gestapo men were getting closer and closer, gaining on him easily.
He turned his head back for a moment, trying to spot them - and then he smacked headfirst into someone, knocking both of them to the ground.
Abraham stared, wide-eyed, at the man he'd just hit. He saw a scrawny middle aged man with heavy brows and a mouth set into a frown.
The man was staring back at him, and Abraham saw his eyes flick first to the yellow star sewn onto his shirt. The man's lip curled in disgust - but then he glanced up to Abraham's face, and the disgust vanished into shock. "Dr. Erskine - ?" he said, as if he recognized Abraham.
"Yes," Abraham said, taking a chance on this man's good graces because otherwise he was going to die. "Please, the Gestapo are chasing me - "
The man blinked. "Of course they are," he said, and then he pushed Abraham off of him and scrambled to his feet. "Here." He pulled off his jacket and passed it to Abraham. "Cover up the Jew star."
Confused but intensely grateful that this man intended to help him, Abraham put the jacket on and buttoned it so that it hid the yellow star on his shirt.
"Come on!" the man said, irritated. He grabbed Abraham's upper arm and pulled him roughly along.
On the grounds that his situation could hardly get worse, Abraham followed him, and was pulled into an alleyway and then into a twisting, turning path through Berlin's alleys. The other man led the way without hesitation and never came up against a dead end. Abraham couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the first time this man had had to lose the police in a hurry.
Finally, both out of breath, they found themselves in one of Berlin's more prosperous districts.
"Get in quickly before anyone sees you," the man snapped, unlocking the door to a house. Abraham did so, stepping into a bare, sparse living room. He collapsed onto the nearest piece of furniture and took a moment to breathe and thank God that he had survived.
"Thank you," he said to his rescuer, once he'd caught his breath. "I was certain I was done for. I fear I don't recognize you; have we met before?"
The other man's lips twisted into an approximation of a smile. "No. But I know you, Dr. Erskine. Hauptsturmfuhrer Schmidt."
Abraham stared at Schmidt, too tired and too baffled to be afraid. “I don’t recall making the acquaintance of any members of the SS. Certainly not the friendly acquaintance.”
“I know you by your work, Doctor. I was most impressed by your paper - Effects of vita-ray exposure in M. musculus?”
Abraham blinked. “Ah, thank you,” he said, wondering why in the world an SS captain spent his time reading obscure scientific papers - much less those written by Jews. He paused, and then flatly asked, “Are you going to turn me in?”
“No, of course not! A mind such as yours deserves better than to rot in a concentration camp.” Schmidt began to pace. “The Nazis, Doctor, believe that they are the Übermenschen. But you and I know that to be superhuman is to be more than merely Aryan. The man who sits complacent and believes himself to be perfect because of his race is no better than the common rabble. But you - ” Schmidt stopped in front of Abraham, “ - you know a better way, don’t you?”
Abraham knew immediately what Schmidt was talking about, and he went cold. “It’s - I’ve never tested it on human subjects.”
“But you speculated that it could work, didn’t you?” Schmidt said. His eyes were bright.
“Speculated, yes,” Abraham said. “But I don’t know - what do you want from me?”
“I want to see the birth of the true Übermensch,” Schmidt said. “I want to see Hitler struck down and a better order put in his place. I want to see a society where a man is judged on his worth, not on his race.”
“Then why are you in the SS?” Abraham asked, suspicious.
Schmidt shrugged, indifferently. “One can accomplish little without power.”
“Power at what cost?” Abraham said.
“At any,” Schmidt answered, immediately. “Even my own life. Dr. Erskine, if you need a volunteer to test the serum on . . . I will have no regrets.”
Abraham was alarmed by his answer, and frowned. “And if I refuse to help you?”
Schmidt took some time to consider this. “I would hardly want someone under duress putting anything in my veins.”
Abraham swallowed. “And when - if - I finished my work?”
Schmidt frowned. “You are in no danger from me, Doctor. I told you, a mind as brilliant as yours does not deserve to rot away in a concentration camp. With that said, however, I do not necessarily have the means to get you out of Germany. I can offer you a job - working on the serum, or not, as you choose - but that’s all I can do.”
Abraham looked away. “Then I must do what I must.”
Schmidt smiled like a death’s head. “Don’t worry, Doctor. I will keep you safe.”