Darcy  finished rimming her lips with ruby red lipstick and kissed her mirror before picking up the pile of correspondence from a battalion medical officer, Joseph Mengele. He was proposing an alliance with her and her son to choose from the fittest of the chosen to serve the Fatherland. The papers were some thesis he had written on experiments he proposed to do on twins and other delightfully grotesque surgeries if he could get the financial backing. He wanted Darcy to use her influence with the Fuhrer to gain him audience to present his request.<br/><br/>With a shrug and a toss, the tome went into the great fireplace in her still room. Going to the side board, she poured herself a gin and tonic. The grandfather clock struck twelve and she stared in anticipation at the door. With the precision of the inner workings of the clock, the door burst open and a man entered.<br/><br/>Darcy waited, allowing him to approach her. He crossed the room, taking his fedora and sailing it to the velvet chair before the fireplace.<br/><br/>“Darling, you are growing into a fine figure of a man,” Darcy crooned to the man with the strawberry blond hair. She looked into eyes that were the bottomless pits of hell and liked what she had created. “The souls you have taken today have strengthened you. On the outside, you look more  and more like a human but your eyes, my darling, are the eyes of The One. Soon, all of Germany will fall at our feet.”