This story is a remake of my earlier story, The Eve Project, which (with the help of a friend) I realized made some readers uncomfortable. This story will have some of the same characters and a similar story.

This part is thankfully dedicated to the firstborn Ingalls.

The pittering and pattering of the harsh winter rain fell loudly on the dark alleyways of Atlanta, Georgia. But the rain wasn’t the only sound that cold and windy night. The otherworldly sound of cars driving by and streetlights flickering supported the non-stopping puttering of the freezing rain. All of these sounds drowned out the footsteps of man, however. Someone with very peculiar attire. He briskly walked along the alley, never looking up from his well-shined and soaking shoes. He wore large round glasses and a black bowler hat. His hands were stiffly stuck in his long black double-breasted overcoat, fingering a small metal key. The man was small and round, with a bald round head and a small mouth. As he walked, he mumbled to himself in a small, breathy voice. On the lapel of his coat there was a pin with a peculiar symbol on it.

The man walked until he reached a small shed at the end of the alley. The man pulled out the small key from his pocket. The man in the circular glasses put the it into a keyhole that was all but visible in the dark alleyway. He opened the door and looked at a metal circle in the center of the small room’s floor. He entered the shed and flipped a switch. The fluorescent light bulb in the ceiling flickered on. The small man tapped his foot twice on the circle, which he was standing on. The circle made a pneumatic hiss, then lowered the man under the floor, like an alien elevator.

A metal door slid open, and the man in the circular glasses lowered into sight. He exited the elevator, and entered a very large, circular room. As the place was only about a hundred feet underground, it only had one floor, but it was very wide. The room was of black tile, except for a large symbol of white tile that was laid into the floor. The symbol was the same as the one on the small man’s lapel. A tall man in a white lab coat approached the small man.

“Mr. Luitpold.” he said, his accent hinted with a southern drawl.

“Herr Dr. Carmicheal.” replied Luitpold, raising his hand in a offhand salute. His voice practically dripped with a German accent. “Is der operation ready?

Dr. Carmicheal fidgeted with a small squeezable ball. “Um, yes sir. Just some minor adjustments, sir.”

“Ausgezeichnet. Excellent. I feel my experiment vill not fail zis time. Nein, I feel zat ve shall finally accomplish what the Fuehrer started. Continue.”