2016: Journal 7: Miscellaneous Developments (Pages 23-28)
The enmity between Germans and Russians was, of course, exacerbated by the Second World War, and to me, there can be no greater example of said enmity than that between Count Untergang (my father) and Comrade Cobalt.
Cobalt was the rare breed of communist who didn't get behind Stalin's party, electing instead to disguise himself in order to hide from his tyrannical government overseers, all whilst menacing American heroes during the Cold War. Funnily enough, while Cobalt harbored an immense hatred of Stalin, his nationalistic sense of pride went beyond politics. An avid Marxist, he sought to spread communism around the globe just as Stalin had, and while he was a sociopath in equal measure, there's something to be said for his lack of direct cooperation with the communist party. Yes, he furthered their agenda, but he didn't cooperate with them.
Instead, he formed his own sect, the змея. They grew to respectable size, but Cobalt eventually bit off more than he could chew when he sought to sink his fangs into East Germany during the later Cold War years. Otto was not pleased with this Russian interloper, and thus began a half-decade of intense rivalry between the two. Cobalt, of course, met his end at Otto's hands; interestingly enough, he was not incinerated by the Death Ray, but rather bludgeoned to death by some brutish weapon, as indicated by the cracked chrome plating of his mask. As a prize of sorts, Otto retained Cobalt's signature helm and uniform, which I have only just now discovered in one of the Castle's many basements.
Cobalt's true name was never uncovered, and details regarding his rise to power are scarce. I've always regarded Cobalt as little more than a Russian copy of my own father, with his own doomsday devices and deathtraps, as well as a large sect of henchmen. From my research, though, his strike me as being a little bit more...fanatical. Otto's men were paid elites, but Cobalt's are the true communist model of mercenary...which is to say, inferior.
Regardless of Cobalt's inadequacies, I've always found the history he shared with my family intriguing. Imagine my delight when I discovered his uniform and signature helm in the cellar. Curious to see how advanced the display on the interior was, I took the clothes up to my room and tried them on.
Cobalt was not as tall as he claimed, but he had an impeccable sense of style.
There is value in all things, but a name holds as much power as a secret. An assumed name...even more so. Cobalt never revealed his face, and his voice was heavily distorted by his mask. He was reportedly celibate, having no relations at all with anyone; I've heard rumor that more than one man wore the mask at the same time, and there were actually several leaders to the змея party. No matter. Should the need arise, I feel I could adequately pass myself off as the aged communist. Who knows. If I ever need to recruit a team of bloodthirsty ex-KGB agents, I'll fix up the faceplate and throw on the slick blue suit.
It's true, even as I stood before the mirror, bloodstains on my lapel and cracked glass obscuring my vision, I found myself plotting aloud in Russian.