Main Page: Indiana Jones and the Monkey King
​Previous: Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

The man was not known for his patience, but he knew that throwing a temper tantrum would do him no good now. The greatest men in history had always had to struggle, hadn't they? Why should he be any exception? He would take it gracefully. So he sat and stared at the raindrops running down his villa window, stared past them across the darkening streets of Berlin, and lost himself in thought. For ten minutes, for an hour, he couldn't tell.

Mephisto was gone. Gutterbuhg was gone. The strong influx of resources into the Ahnenerbe had been a waste, a miscalculation. The Lost City of Sun Wu-Kung remained undiscovered for the time being. But he was still here, as always, with more men and more resources at his disposal, with more projects underway. He only needed to succeed once. And what a success it would be, after all his struggle – a triumph for him and for all of Germany.

Still. There was the small matter of that verdammt American.

The man's mustache twitched a little as he thought of Dr. Indiana Jones, his most worthy opponent and increasingly the source of his struggle nowadays. Dr. Jones had been more than a match for every soldier, every officer thrown at him so far. Success would be much more likely with Dr. Jones out of the way. And yet that seemed an impossible goal even with everything at his disposal.

The man allowed himself a bit of resentment, but even so, he couldn't help overshadowing it with respect. Perhaps they would meet someday. Perhaps he, himself, would be the one to deliver the killing blow, but not before congratulating the good doctor on putting up such a fight. He closed his eyes and breathed deep as he imagined. Yes, it would be worth the wait, worth the struggle. Maybe he'd even get back all the artifacts Dr. Jones had already snatched from his grasp. They rightfully belonged to him, to Germany.

He didn't want to get his hopes up too much yet. But while the use of technology had failed, a new development had presented itself, one that appealed to him more anyway for its occult nature. Dr. Jones had made himself many other enemies.

The man stood, pushed back his chair, and turned away from the window to where his guest and newfound ally stood waiting. The visitor's eyes burned with darkness exceeding that outside, and his very presence seemed to chill the room more than the draft. Despite their very different appearances it felt almost like looking into a mirror. The translator, standing off to the side, glanced nervously from one to the other.

“I accept your offer,” the man said. “We will hunt Dr. Jones together.”

The translator relayed this information. The visitor nodded, his face remaining blank.

The man nodded back. “Thank you for your assistance. What was your name again?”

The translator finished, but for a moment the visitor didn't respond, just stared straight ahead, unblinking. Then his lips parted and he seemed to force the words out as if from a great depth.

​“Baron... Seamus... Seagrove.”