by Shad N Freud
“Ich stimme dem kleinen Bruder zu. Aber rette den Hübschen. Ich mag, wie er schreit. (I agree, little brother. But save the pretty one. I like how he screams.)” Krieger smiled maliciously, his filed teeth dripping with acidic saliva as he stepped towards Zeke.
“Aye, cunt!” A voice rang out from the other end of the room as Camilla levelled a bazooka at Krieger. “When yeh get to Hell, tell ‘em Camilla Brown sent yeh!”
“Sheisse,” Krieger swore, helplessly watching as Camilla fired the missile.
Everyone else, including Carl, hit the deck as the explosive made a beeline for Krieger’s jigsaw puzzle of a face. With a deafening blast, Krieger’s moly-steel enhanced cranium, as well as a good chunk of his upper torso, was reduced to flaming meat and metal shards. His body staggered forward before collapsing, his acidic blood eating away at the floor.
Camilla lined up the next shot and pulled the trigger, only to hear a clinking sound, but no ignition.
“Bloody Kraut engineering. Always buy American, me mum always said,” Camilla muttered as she dropped the launcher and picked up the Milkor MGL she’d also liberated from the enemy as Sachi lay prone, lining up her shot with the Barretta M82 on its bipod.
“あなたは娼婦の汚れた男! (Eat all of the dicks, you filthy son of a whore!)” Sachi shouted as she stopped Blitz cold, putting a .50 caliber depleted uranium slug through the center of his left knee, blowing his leg completely off and spraying the ground with more of the acidic slime he referred to as blood.
Zeke saw Camilla sight the grenade launcher on the downed construct and forced himself back to his feet, struggling to grab Jin and get him out of the blast radius of the 40 mm grenades that were about to pepper the area, tucking and rolling as the first one landed. Blitz screamed in ineffectual fury as high-explosive grenades tore chunks of flesh, cybernetics, and armor off his body, leaving him a whimpering mess when the launcher’s firing pin hit spent brass. Camilla then strode over, whistling cheerfully as she drew the scimitar at her waist, reversed the grip, and stood over her victim with the blade poised to strike.
“Any last words, yeh right bastard?”
“Ja. Selbstzerstörung (Yes. Self-destruct),” Blitz ground out before biting down hard on a false tooth, activating his self-termination protocol.
“Ah bugger,” Camilla said as she dove away from the half-ton necromantic horror and rolled with the explosion, laying dazed and doing her best to ignore the burning sensation in her lower back and lack of sensation from the waist down. The rest of the remaining un-undead people in the chamber slowly got up from where they’d been lying injured and staggered their way over. Carl reached her first, as he only had a cracked rib and was in the best shape.
“Right. Listen, love, this is going to hurt. A lot. But you’re a big girl, you can take it.” Carl said as he gently placed his hand above the wound. Not so gently, he ripped the jagged shard of moly-steel out of Camilla’s back and then immediately infused the area with Hellfire. Instantly, Camilla’s entire nervous system lit up, including the temporarily severed spinal cord, and rapidly healed the young woman. Only a small, jagged scar remained where her life-threatening injury had been.
“Thankee mate. Now, if’n ye’d be ever so kind…would yeh mind telling me who the bloody Hell yeh people are? And, why in Lucy’s short and curlies you didn’t get here sooner?”
“Well lass, the answer is quite simple. We’re not a relief mission. We’re here to pick up two people. Two highly trained, problematic, and necessary people.”
“Well, A’m sorry mate, but…ah shite.” Camilla’s eyes widened as she got a better look at who she was talking to, then struggled to her feet as Carl slid his hand into his shirt, the smell of brimstone filling the air as he grit his teeth, his broken rib knitting itself back together. “…Grand Inquisitor Beaumont…my apologies, I dinnae ken it was yeh. As I was sayin’ though, I’m afraid ye’re out of luck. Sachi and I are the only two teh survive this debacle. I’m afraid the entire research team was wiped out by those Nazi cunts or tortured for information and then thrown to the horde when they died. If’n I could have brought a full loadout and a competent security team, we’d have cleared these arseholes out without any issues. But nooo, this was just a ‘cursory examination for heretical artefacts before letting the locals do their research.’ Bollocks.”
“I’m sorry about your team. My condolences. That said, Brown, you two are actually the ones we came for,” Carl told her, reaching into his coat and pulling out two sealed envelopes, as well as his pack of blackjacks.
Sachi made her way over after breaking down her sniper rifle and stepped up onto her tip-toes to look over her friend’s shoulder at the envelopes before grabbing her own. Camilla ripped open her envelope and pulled out the dossier contained within, reading until she got to the parts about the Prophecy and letting loose a string of downright noxious curses in Infernal, some of which made Cenere blush as he stood up on his wobbly hooves. She took several deep, calming breaths before leaning against the nearest wall, and finished reading her file, a deep scowl on her face. She needed a drink.
Jin woke up, and immediately started fussing over Zeke, casting healing spells after meticulously removing every shard of shrapnel from his friend’s back, causing the occasional twitch from the stoic pile of baggage. Zeke, meanwhile, was looking at his broken gourd and was weeping manfully. “There was fifty-year-old Baiju in that gourd. What a waste.”
“Baiju?” Camilla’s ears perked up as she looked at the lizard over her dossier. “Is that like Chinese vodka?”
Zeke swiveled his head towards Camilla and looked at the young woman. Her dark skin contrasted starkly with her bright ginger hair and sapphire blue eyes as she stared at him curiously, and not without a small amount of interest. “It’s quite similar to vodka, yes. A bit sweeter, though. Why?”
Camilla’s anger evaporated, a grin threatened to displace her ears as she took off the pack she ‘liberated’ from the Nazi’s stores, and produced a bottle of pure grain alcohol. “Pretty sure this stuff is 170 proof. Care to wet your snout? I could certainly use a drink after reading that mess.” She pulled out a couple of field cups and started pouring. The lizard seemed to teleport despite his aching muscles and accepted the tin with an almost pitiful look of gratitude in his eyes, quaffing the proffered beverage and feeling the intense burning sensation of 170 proof corn liquor flood his entire being, nigh instantly filling him with vim and vigor. And a more than slight buzz.
“Whoa there, mate. Don’t want to nip the creature too hard. Might end up getting nipped back.”
“S’alright,” Zeke slurred, stumbling back over to his shorter friend and retrieving his mighty sword. “Drunken style. Started training in it when Lama Mercado left a glass of scotch on a low table. After I drank it, things got a bit hazy, but I apparently kicked one of the other Lama’s through a wall. Natural at it.” He swayed slightly before staggering back over to Camilla with his empty cup. “Might I have another?”
“Sorry mate, now’s not the time,” Carl muttered as he walked over to the pillar. “We need to find a way of getting a message out to the nearest Church to send us a ride.”
“Wait.” Camilla said, sipping the high-octane giggle juice, “We need to level this place. Those two?” She pointed at the remains of Blitz and Krieger. “Tip o’ the iceberg. I dinnae ken what exactly they’ve got down below, but nothing good comes upstairs. Also, I’ve a score to settle with the ‘doctor’ they have runnin’ the research side of things in this cesspit.”
Carl paused before turning back and looking at Camilla. He stared at her for a long minute before nodding, then turning back to the group. “Alright, then. How much of the facility are you aware of?”
“They’ve some kind of reactor at the bottom, dinnae ken how it works, as well as several computer rooms that control the lower levels. Then there’s the cloning vats- “
“Cloning vats?” Carl interrupted. “That makes sense. I was wondering how
there were so many of these damned zombies.”
“Most are clones. Clone livin’ tissue, infuse it with darklight, and put ‘em in a uniform. Instant cannon fodder. The ‘doctor’ that runs this place told me exactly ‘ow he’s been doin’ this stuff, as I dinnae ken he was to let me go,” she said, smirking at Sachi. “Unfortunately, me rescue used up the rest of the disruptor rounds Sachi brought and the phylactery is still intact. So, we’re goin’ to be walkin’ into an ambush.”
“Sounds about right. I knocked one of the ranking liches off meself, so they sure know we’re coming. So, gang, thoughts?”
Cenere scratched his head as he looked at the stonework. “Well, they’ve certainly done some reinforcement work on the entire structure. I’m guessing they’ve done a bit of work setting up numerous hidden egress points from below, as well as a blanketing anti-scry on the exterior or we’d have found this place years ago. Of course, blocking scry works both ways. Plus, considering your esteemed ‘host’ kept badgering you for info, that means that whoever is supplying them with tech is deliberately leaving them in the dark. Probably to make them more reliant…” Cenere began pacing as he thought out loud. “Which means that the liches in charge are working on someone’s orders. Building up a massive expendable army. But why?”
“Much as I hate to admit it, Fancy’s right. Someone’s pulling their strings.” Jin stroked his sparse goatee thoughtfully. “I get the feeling we stumbled upon something bigger than a bunch of brain-munching Third Reich rejects. The fact that demons attacked the monastery where we picked up Zeke, anzus tore up the plane, now this temple…someone’s actively trying to stymie our efforts. It can’t be coincidence.”
An incorporeal woman rose up out of the floor, half of her face horrifically burned, glaring intently at Carl as she came to a stop. Cenere to flinched backward in revulsion while the others pointed their weapons at her. “Your little friend is right. There is someone out to stop you. Me. Unfortunately, due to the rules of those beyond your petty gods, I’m not allowed to directly interfere. Otherwise…oh, but how I would enjoy ripping the flesh from your bones and wearing you like a scarf, orc. Your filth has contaminated existence for far too long already. These ‘Nazis’ of yours sacrifice in my name, and that of my master. You, in particular, half-breed, I will enjoy killing when loosed from my bonds. But not until I’ve taken everything from you. Not until well after you beg for death. Not until I stop enjoying your torture. Not- “
“Monologuing,” Carl said, then flicked his spent cigarette through her intangible form.
“What?”
“You’re monologuing. You’re saying far too much and accomplishing nothing. So, kindly fuck off if all you’re going to do is make hollow threats.”
The dark woman smirked as she leaned forward, exposing a bit of cleavage in the process. “Hollow? Oh, Carl, you have no idea. We’ve met before. After all, you gave me this.” She pointed at her disfigurement. “And for that, I will get to ruin you. A little at a time. Like a death of one thousand cuts. Your pain will sustain me until I can take full corporeal form. And on that day, I will eat your heart. For now, though, feel free to enjoy the entertainment I’ve arranged.”
“Entertainment?”
The dark woman pointed at the pillar and the glowing runes grew brighter as the pillar slammed shut. The lattice pattern on the floor lit up and with a flash of blinding light, the group found themselves falling as the floor disappeared.
Chapter Eight
“Da~da!” A toddler with lime green skin and fire engine red hair in short pigtails squealed with glee as she toddled over to her hulking man-thing of a father who scooped her up in a one-armed hug. She giggled gaily as he tossed her up into the air and caught her. Toss, catch. Toss, catch. All the while giggling with the simple pure joy of late infancy. A flicker of red at the edge of his peripheral vision alerted him to the presence of the child’s mother, a drop-dead gorgeous elf wearing an apron that said Kiss the Cook, who was leaning against the door jamb leading to the kitchen.
Tristana smiled winsomely as she watched her husband play with his daughter.
“Yeh dinnae say ye’d be home in time for dinner, Greenie.” Tristana smiled as she sauntered sinuously over to her husband, her green eyes locked on her husband’s face as she stalked forward like a tigress on the hunt. She moved with a casual grace that dancers worked for years to develop and a figure most models starve themselves for. She wrapped her arms around her stout husband, resting her head against his chest. “I wish you could get more time off. Sophie’s growing like a weed, love, an’ I dinnae want you to miss the important parts.”
Carl gave Tristana a wan smile as he sat down heavily on his couch, gently resting his precious cargo on his knee as his wife joined him on the couch, snuggling up to him in a way that caused him to glance at the bedroom with a certain longing. He looked over at Tristana, waggling his eyebrows as he gestured with his head. His wife rolled her eyes as she gave him a rakish grin. “After dinner, you prat. Ye ken, tha’ meal we never have any more.”
Carl laughed softly, bouncing his daughter on his knee. “Can’t be helped, Tryst. 1PP’s breathing down our necks about the rash of kidnappings happening all over town, from the Bronx to Central Park. On top of that, I’ve got a full case load, including a serial killer that’s preying on tourists and l’Orange keeps pulling me away for some Secret Squirrel bullshit every other week. Then, if that wasn’t enough, I go and get myself promoted to Chief Cleric of the precinct without even campaigning for it. Lucy’s pretty teeth but that dear, sainted brother of yours couldn’t resign fast enough when I beat him out for top cop. He took up over in Notre Dame. I heard tell he made Archon.”
“I wish you two would get along. I dinnae ken why you two can’t see eye to eye.”
“Well Tryst, he is a full foot shorter and still finds a way to look down his nose at me.”
Tristana rolled her eyes before she slugged her husband on the arm, then hissed as she shook her hand in pain. Carl belly laughed at her for hitting him and hurting her own hand. “Yeh bloody well ken what I meant, yeh twat. Keep laughin,’ and yer nae goin to join us fer supper. Might even decide yer sleepin’ on the couch.”
Carl immediately silenced himself and reached into his coat, pulling out a pack of licorice gum and peeling off the wrapper before sliding a stick into his mouth. He grimaced at the lack of nicotine. Tristana had, after all, threatened to make the couch his permanent sleeping accommodation if he didn’t quit smoking while at home, due to it being a filthy habit to expose their daughter to. That same daughter gurgled as she stood up and started playing with her father’s face, slapping it as her giggling became sinister.
“Da-da! Da-da! Ca-rl! Carl!”
“Carl! Wake up, you old fucker!” Cenere yelled in his mentor’s ear. He reared back to slap him again and was promptly decked in the teeth, knocking him ass over tea kettle. Carl awoke with a start and sat up before clutching his head in pain. He shrugged apologetically at Cenere, who glared at the Grand Inquisitor as he spat out a bit of blood.
“Anybody catch the number on that bus?” Carl ground out as he got to his feet, pulling out his pack of Blackjacks. He looked at the brand on the back of his right hand; it was still glowing red and spinning, indicating that there were a large number of Chaotic Evil signatures in the area, the star spinning to show direction. “Brilliant. Looks like that bitch wasn’t playing around.”
Carl looked around in the gloom and saw Zeke pluck Jin out of the rubble like a carrot while Camilla groaned as she returned to consciousness. Sachi was perched on a larger piece of rubble with an MP5 in a three-point sling around her neck, staring around the room with her slightly protuberant eyes that glowed a faint green in the gloom, the night vision feature of her contacts having activated on their own. Her eyes rested on Carl for a moment, then he nodded as she continued her overwatch position while everyone recovered from their unexpected naps.
Carl felt the hair on the back of his n
eck rise and dodged left as a shade tried to disembowel him. He snarled and blasted it with a gout of Hellfire, incinerating the shade and casting it back to the Abyss. A sinister giggling caused him to throw a backfist into the space behind him, eliciting a cackle from the wraith behind him.
“Oh, how wonderful! You all survived your little fall. It would have been a shame if your hosts had put together your entertainment for naught. Be seeing you, Carl. Oh, and do say hello to that gorgeous wife of yours for me, will you? Let her know I’ll be paying her a visit as soon as I can figure out where she and your precious little swine of a daughter are.” She cackled with sinister glee as she faded from sight, narrowly avoiding another gout of Hellfire from Carl.
He fought to get his rage under control as he felt the floor rumble, the debris from the floor above shifting as large blast doors in the floor opened, revealing swarms of undead that were climbing the walls to get at their prey.
“Elevator shafts? Seriously? Who the Hell designed this Escher painting of a temple?” Cenere snarked as he began flinging ephemeral steel down the elevator shaft, each blade silencing one of the Rotting Reich below. He belted out a hardcore death metal hymn, lifting the mood of his comrades as they began ruthlessly merking the undead while the platforms grew closer.
Jin shook the cobwebs out of his head and began sparking with raw aetheric lightning as his smile grew feral, annihilating zeds with fire, ice, and lightning. Zeke jumped down one of the elevator shafts, calling dibs as he howled gutturally, leading with his naked adamantine blade and a savage glee in his eye as he fell to meet his foes. Camilla cackled with sadistic glee as she unleashed 9mm death down another hole, her bullets emptying skulls as she wove hexes down into the group of slavering undead below. Sachi fired burst after burst of 9mm perdition into the same shaft, the pair making short work of their portion of the undead.