Masquerade : The Black Eagle

THUD. THUD. THUD.
Like heartbeats from an ancient time, brass horns mixed their deep howls with the marching beat. Something magical floated in those notes - a weird mix of ancient Roman glory and Celtic mystery that shook the city's soul.

"They're coming," whispered someone in the crowd.

Winter air swirled with confetti around black flags showing swastikas. Everyone held their breath looking at hundreds of black-uniformed soldiers, fur coats making them seem bigger against the biting cold.

But their masks got all the attention. Animal faces carved scary-perfect. Sharp-beaked ravens. Shiny-fanged wolves. Mean-looking bulls. Every mask told its own story, each warrior brought old Northern tales to life.

"Look!" shouted a voice. "The SS-Wiking!"

The crowd's whispers grew like a wave. The North's best fighters. Most feared warriors in the Empire. Living proof of the Aryan legend, changed to be more than human.

A man elbowed his friend, pointing at a tall officer leading the parade.

"Frank the fox," he whispered with stars in his eyes. "They say he trapped a whole army base without losing any men. Tricky as the devil himself!"

BWOOOOOOM! The horn blasted deep and proud, telling everyone someone big was coming.

"Ah... Him," breathed a woman. "Lukas the Black Eagle. His eyes cut through snow storms like they're nothing. His targets fall before they see his shadow..."

Giant metal harps made spooky sounds. A huge tank rolled up carrying a slander guy in a boar mask - Dietre the Exalted. You could see his crazy smile even under the mask.

"At the fjord fight," an old man whispered, "he laughed while walking through fire..."

The music stopped all at once.

One drum beat now, matching giant footsteps. Seven feet of muscle and steel, Jurgen the Aurochs of Doom walked forward. His black bull mask seemed to eat up light itself.

"That one," someone shivered, "he don't stops charging till everything's ash..."

• • •

"LUKI! LUKI!"

The child's shout cut through the solemn crowd like a knife. People turned their heads as a small figure in blue darted between their legs. Her blonde hair caught the winter wind and danced behind her.

Under his eagle mask, Lukas felt his heart skip. He watched the determined little girl running straight for him. Emma held their special treasure—Mr. Feathers, the worn eagle plush he'd given her on her sixth birthday.

Those red boots of hers made quite a racket on the cobblestones. The formal ceremony meant nothing to her at all. Her cheeks had turned as pink as cherry blossoms against snow from all that running.

"Luki, Luki!" Those two syllables were all she could say since the illness took her speech at age six. Yet somehow those simple sounds carried more love than any words could express. They were both nickname and prayer for her brother's safe return.

Nobody breathed. The legendary Black Eagle had stopped for a child—emotional attachment is a display of weakness that Wikings despised. Lukas knelt down anyway, forgetting about the parade and the Empire for a moment. Her tiny hand reached out to touch his cold mask.

Their mother stood tall in the crowd, clutching her shawl. When their eyes met, he saw her heart breaking just like his were. Emma tugged his uniform and pointed first to his heart, then to hers—a gesture worth a thousand words.

"SERGEANT LUKAS!"

Dieter the Exalted’s sharp voice shattered everything. His cruel laugh echoed from his chariot. "Looks like our eagle found a cozy nest," he sneered. "Don't dawdle, Sergeant. We have no room for doves among us."

Scattered laughter rippled through the soldiers, but Lukas ignored them all. He gently tucked Mr. Feathers inside his uniform, right against his heart. The gesture had became their ritual—Emma entrusting him with her most precious possession.

He touched her hair one last time as he stood. Behind his mask, he whispered words only she would understand: "I'll come back, little bird."

Later, as he boarded the ship, that small stuffed toy felt heavier than all his battle gear combined.

✽✽✽

༺༻ in the cold sky of Europe ༺༻

The ionic engines made the Kaiserstern shake like a leaf. Nothing showed through the windows except Arctic white, blazing bright. Engine oil and metal smells filled up the briefing room where SS-Wiking troops squeezed in, their exoskeletons making weird noises whenever someone moved.

Major Jurgen's boots rang against the metal floor. Light seemed to disappear into his black uniform and that straight scar down his face while he looked everyone over. You could feel electricity in the air.

"Soldiers." His deep voice shut everyone up. "Target: Svalbard Dissidents."

Everyone shivered slightly—their reputation preceded them.

"The Iron Skulls is what they call themselves." Major Jurgen took his time with those words. "Intelligence tells us they're developing dark tech that could mess with Reich military doctrine. We must crush them before they grow stronger."

The soldiers' eyes got huge. Iron Skulls... those drug-crazed extremists who'd do anything.

Behind him, the Major pointed to three spots on a floating hologram.

"Eagle Unit, Sergeant Lukas Adler and his non-commissioned officer Frank Jenkins—Longyearbyen's yours…the frontline."

Lukas just nodded, keeping his thoughts hidden.

"Boar Unit, Captain Dieter—take Barentsburg."

Pride swelled in the armored soldiers' chests.

"As for me..." The Major narrowed his eyes. "I'll handle Pyramiden. We need to check those occult weapons rumors."

• • •

"Well well..." Someone's mocking voice broke the silence after the Major left.

Captain Dieter the Exalted in his shiny exoskeleton, walked toward Lukas Adler with an nasty smile.

"Sending the little bird first? What a joke!" He pulled out a flask.

With a sneering gesture, he took a drink and suddenly— splashed some in Lukas's face.

“How dare you take my place as a frontliner on this crucial mission…Your place is in your cozy pigeon nest with your mute sister. ” he muttered, his smile cold and serious.

Everyone laughed, but Lukas didn't move. He stayed calm, almost stone-like, respecting military rank.

Seeing the insult roll off Lukas like water, Dieter frowned unhappily.

"Acting tough, huh? But your sister... That poor little mute..."

CRACK!
Quick as lightning, Lukas grabbed Dieter's collar, his eyes turning to ice.

"Do what you want to me," Lukas whispered, voice low but sharp, "but don't dare dishonor my sister."

His steady gaze burned so bright it made Dieter look away.

"Never. Speak. Of. Her. Again."

Heavy silence fell. The laughing stopped. Even Boar Unit troops froze. Lukas wasn't one to lose control...

"Watch your rank, Sergeant." Dieter's eyes gleamed wickedly. "I could have part of your exoskeleton removed for this. A proper humiliation. Know what that means?"

Lukas knew. Soldiers without full gear were seen as flawed, inferior—the line between perfect Aryan and bottom-feeding rat got drawn right here on the front.

Dieter leaned close to Lukas and whispered with an evil smile: "Maybe your sister needs a... little adjustment... To learn her place among the weak."

Lukas clenched his fists, reinforced gloves creaking under pressure. Bitter rage threatened to take over.

"ENOUGH!"

The command cracked like thunder through the freezing air.

Major Jurgen stepped from the shadows, his boots hitting metal. Each step made the air tremble. Boar Unit's soldiers turned rigid as steel statues, their exoskeletons making soft whirrs under sudden strain.

In the deafening quiet that followed, only the Kaiserstern's distant engines purred.

The Major's gaze cut through the scene like an ice laser. First at Lukas, who stepped back, then at Dieter, who seemed to shrink under those eyes.

"Captain Dieter Kobold the Exalted..."

His voice felt colder than space itself.

"Have you forgotten how officer contempt breaks our chain of command?"

Dieter straightened up, his exoskeleton growling with effort. His face burned red like ship warning lights, but defiance still lit his eyes.

"Major—" His voice shook with barely hidden pride. "With respect to your rank, I'm Hauptmann here."

He waved dramatically at his men, their heavy armor gleaming under pale lights.

"Look! The Boar Unit! We're an unstoppable strike force! Our armor can't be pierced, our firepower... devastating!"

His eyes flashed lightning.

"So why... WHY give the Svalbard frontline to this... second-rate unit?"

The silence hung so thick you could slice it.

Jurgen didn't blink. A smile appeared—thin as a razor blade.

"Doctrine, Hauptmann. Do you know... the doctrine?"

The words drifted like deadly snowflakes.

Dieter's forehead wrinkled. Doubt started cracking his pride.

"Blitzkrieg."

That word boomed through the room like cannon fire.

"Speed, Captain. Speed." The Major's eyes sparked dangerously. "That's what broke our enemies. What shattered them."

His gaze swept the room like a spotlight.

"Your Boar Unit... is powerful, yes. "But...." he paused to emphasize his words. "TOO slow."

The exoskeleton servos seemed to whisper agreement.

"Eagle Unit, though..." The Major turned toward Lukas. "Fast. Precise. Deadly."

Dieter tried to speak, but—

"This is tactical planning." The Major's voice snapped like a whip. "Not about pride."

The Captain squeezed his fists until his exoskeleton creaked in protest.

"Yes... Major."

Those words seemed to burn his throat.

The Major spun around, his fur-topped black coat swirling like raptor wings. The showdown ended as fast as it started.

Soldiers scattered quietly, just their exoskeletons' whir-click breaking the peace.

Lukas stood still for a moment, face frozen like ice. He knew Dieter wouldn't forget this humiliation.

• • •

Light footsteps echoed behind Luka. The sound played like a child's game.

"Well well... Making waves with the big fish now, Adler?" A shadow peeled itself from the darkness. Frank "the Fox" appeared next to Lukas without warning. His lightweight exoskeleton moved like liquid metal. Those mischief-filled green eyes sparkled in that special way of his.

"You know you're basically a walking trouble magnet?" His grin got bigger. "The brass either worship you or want your head on a stick!" Lukas's mouth twitched into a slight smile.

Frank leaned closer with a conspiratorial gleam, his ginger hair caressed Luka’s face.

"Wanna hear what I think?" He glanced around like a kid with a juicy secret. "They're obsessed with you!" He threw his hands up dramatically. "Either worshipping the ground you walk on or dying of jealousy. Maybe 'cause you snagged their precious Black Eagle symbol - all that power and dominance stuff." He waved vaguely at a wall. "Hell, they even got one carved right there. Talk about on-the-nose symbolism. But hey, not your fault your spirit animal matches their fancy logo, right?"

Then he puffed up his chest. "Know why they call me the Fox?"

Lukas put on a smile. "Maybe 'cause you reek like wet dog and fox crap... damn Frank, how long's it been since you showered?" Lukas mocked, pinching his nose.

"Hey... that's just cold, man. Ever heard of tact? When your buddy stinks, you gotta break it to him subtle-like." Frank waved his arms dramatically. "Like, 'hey buddy... got you this fancy shower gel and high-tech toothbrush for your birthday' or 'here's a ticket to those Japanese hot springs where pretty Asian ladies can scrub your back!'"

"HA! If I did that, you'd start stinking on purpose just to score free stuff!"

"Got me there! That's exactly why they call me the Fox..." He tapped his temple. "Got all kinds of tricks up my sleeve... strategy, hacking, lots of folks up in Northern Europe want this brain of mine!" He puffed up proudly. "So if you need a tech tip or some sneaky intel, I'm your guy..."

Lukas raised an eyebrow. ”Uh, right... Meanwhile, I still don't remember why they call me Black Eagle... Maybe because my first name is Adler and I've got some bird of prey DNA in my blood?' He scoffed. 'That's ridiculous if you ask me.'"

"HA!" Frank's laugh rang like bells in the metallic air. "You're literally the only guy I know who carries that title without knowing why!"

"Then enlighten me."

Frank leaned closer, playing with the mystery, then switched topics. "Word is you're so tight with the brass that you're even... friends with the Führer's son."

Lukas frowned, incredulous. "Wait. What?"

Frank burst out laughing again, leaning against a hall pillar. "It's true! Guys say you had tea with him one day. Little buddy hangout?"

Lukas rolled his eyes. "That's ridiculous... Now what about this Black Eagle business?"

Frank leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with—

Just like that.

Something shifted. Like a shadow crossing his gaze.

"...Forget it," he whispered. "It's nothing."

"Frank?" Lukas kept his voice gentle but firm. "Why'd they call me that?"

The Fox just shook his head while darkness crept across his usually cheerful face.

Overhead, the ship's lights flickered—almost like they sensed the mood shift.

Metal groaned under their boots as they made their way to the hangar. Frank wasn't himself - no bouncing, no jokes. Just heavy steps and heavier silence.

"Lukas..." Barely a sound. More like a breath shaped into words.

His eyes fixed on some distant point. "Something's wrong."

Time stretched like cold taffy.

"The mission?" Lukas watched his friend's face.

Frank's nod was slow, mechanical. "Everything... These Iron Skulls..." A shudder ran through his exoskeleton. "Can't shake it - feels like my last ride."

The ship creaked. Ancient metal protesting beneath them, singing songs of rust and wear.

"Cut it out." Lukas's words came sharp, certain. "We always make it back."

Empty words. They both knew it. Just echoes bouncing off cold walls and colder hearts.

Frank's fingers disappeared into his uniform. When they emerged, they held something—a silver pendant catching the sickly light. Dying stars reflected in dying metal.

"If I die out there..." His voice wavered. "Do something for me."

The pendant changed hands, heavy as a secret.

"Was my mother's." A sad smile played on his lips. "On my grave, Lukas. That's all I'm asking."

Silence roared in their ears.

"Idiot." Lukas's voice came rough. "You're not dying. Not today."

Frank laughed softly, but it sounded like goodbye.

"We'll see..."

• • •

Ship doors burst open, arctic wind howling in Svalbard's night swallowed them like a hungry beast.

As Lukas leaped into the frozen dark, Frank's words echoed: that feeling, that hollow laugh, that unfinished Black Eagle story...

Why that nickname ?

Something dark circled above.

And it was here to collect.