Central Height's Apartment Complex

Alfons opened the window, and with a wink to Mindy, transformed into an pigeon. He cooed at her, before flying to a nearby streetlamp.

Downstairs, Otto couldn't shake the feeling he knew this man. He was portly, short, and much older than he seemed from above. His mustache wasn't nearly as distinct as Poirot's, and he was covered in stress lines. When the stranger turned to notice the one-armed young man, he grabbed his chest, before yelling in German. "God in Heaven... My little Otto... I have found my grandchild at long last..."

Alfons transformed in the middle of the street, a minor miracle in Starcrown Heights. "Christ, Otto... that's Hans Willingham..."

Old Man Otto Rangel, whose son Heinrich had named 'his' secondborn in his honor, had died in the Reign. This was a known fact. Alfons had described the funeral as a major affair for their tiny town. Their mother, Maria Willingham Rangel, was a Munich girl who had left most of her family when she married a dashing young Bundeswehr officer who desired to expand his family business after the war.

Alfons knew nothing of that branch, and said all he truly knew was that they probably still had family there. It had never occurred to either brother that their grandfather might be Hans Willingham himself, pride of the Fatherland.

"One would follow the other, ja." The old man looked about the street suspiciously. "We should not discuss these things here. These American will likely not know e, but it is imperative we move to a more private spot nonetheless. Even on Mount Olympus, gods fear the unknown, nein?"

"No, that will do. My own hotel room is on the other side of Ambrosia." He rubbed his eyes, pushing the large sunglasses, revealing more stresslines than wrinkles.

He looked around, removing his hat and revealing a balding head. "Quaint. Your parents had a home just as small in Munich, before Alfons was born. Your father was a stubborn man, and though he was gone most of the time as an officer, he insisted he was the only one who would pay for my daughter's well-being." He sighed and smiled sadly. "Not your father, but your mother's husband... I imagine you already understand that part."

He walked to the windows and closed the blinds. "Do you have enemies in this city?"

"Are you sure? There's a man trying very hard not to be noticed across the street. I didn't see him before, but I imagine Alfons's transformation threw him off his game."

It was true. A second stranger had appeared, trying very hard to read his newspaper in his nice suit and thick sunglasses. "Oh dear... I told your mother I'd keep you safe, and it appears I have already brought danger to your doorstep."

"My grandsons are knallharts. What a family." He grinned, before taking a seat. "This is a good thing. A very good thing, ja?" He produced a tiny bottle of pills and swallowed one. "Ulcer. Damning the world comes with a price."

"No. Vaughn showed them the door to Hell. I merely carved the doorknob. It was Ogami who lured us through it." He sighed. "Wie auch immer... your mother was living in Munich when your forefathers came. One of them, a Siegfried who many thought was a Fafnir, approached me and demanded I dismantle my life's work. I was hesitant, and Europe's governments were debating over what to do. So this Siegfried remained, waiting patiently for us to see the light. He would often appear in my labs and home, asking questions about our techniques, our funding, even our morals. Your mother would sometimes be there and... I confess, I did not know the truth until Alfons was born. Heinrich had been away, stationed at our more vital installations."

There was a long silence, before imploring, "Please understand, your parents are both good and strong people. But when he was away so long, and this... god before us... was always there, listening to us. Please, do not think less of her. You did not see the effect these beings had on us, on our lives."