by Andrew Iddon
Bob told Greg to wait, and went into Friedrich’s room. He sat down with what seemed to be a recorder, and a clipboard of some kind, but he was sure to have had his own methods of writing down notes. He went over some ground rules with Friedrich as most interviewers would, and then began. “First of all, Chancellor, why do you wear that interesting mask?” asked Bob.
Friedrich shrugged uncomfortably, and replied, “When I was young I was severely injured in a war, and have needed this mask to survive since.”
“Ah, yes, you humans and fighting; no matter your similarities and your union as a species, you always love to fight each other. I would like to request you to remove your mask for but a moment. You will find that this room has been designed to fit the environment suited for your survival; it adapts, so you will not feel pain.”
Friedrich paused, and hesitantly reached for his hat. He put it on the table in front of him, and then reached for the locked seams, and clips, holding the four pieces of his mask together. He snapped them open, and his mask hissed, as the air inside was being released into the air of the room. He then slowly lifted the front off, and placed it down on the table next to his hat, and stared at Bob. Bob stared back, and gasped lightly with excitement, as he had new things to learn. Friedrich surprisingly felt comfortable. His eyes did not need the protection of eyelids, and his mouth stayed hydrated, even without full lips to keep the moisture in. He relaxed a little, kind of relieved to finally get some air on his bare face.
“Fascinating. You have managed to defy the odds, and create a piece of technology to imitate the human face. To create the effect of eyelids and full lips, to help your voice, and keep your saliva in check, with some perks as I can see. Heat vision, X ray, the works; I very much am intrigued by you, my friend. I shall continue, if you don’t mind. Now what is this Nazi Regime, this Fourth Reich?”
“The Nazi Regime is an Organization, an Army, and a Political Party, known as the National Socialist Party. It was formed in Earth Germany a few hundred years ago, and resurrected by me now. The Nazis have devoted their lives to ridding space of impure humans and aliens, so that the dominant of the dominant species will reign supreme and unhindered”, said Friedrich.
“So you do nothing but destroy? Destroy everything that you believe is impure and inhuman… including other humans? Spectacular! You truly are an interesting subject. So, tell me more about your people. What are you doing to destroy your enemies?” asked Bob, excitedly.
“Well, we have time. Let me tell you, so you will know the glory of what I have done here, and maybe I will be the topic chapter in your textbooks”, replied Friedrich.
The interview proceeded for many hours, for both of their subjects, and the Cerebronians didn’t waste any time. They asked, and probed, and riddled through the two men’s minds, getting truckloads of information without having to physically open their heads, and look for themselves. They were fascinated by, not only the fact of how advanced the humans were in such a short time, but for the fact that no matter how mankind proceeded to be a unified race, they continued to destroy each other in a massive scale. How, no matter what faced them, whether it is disease, or natural disaster, humans always found a reason to fight each other. The Cerebronians also enjoyed how much humans hate each other, and how much they hate other species, the Nazi Warlord being a prime example. This man has devoted his life to destroying everything he hates, everything his people hate. He is already well on his way to causing galaxy wide extinction, and has no remorse.
Bob then looked at his notes, and then gave a snide smile, as his interview with Richthofen was coming to a close. He looked at Friedrich, and asked calmly, “So who was the girl?”
Friedrich’s eyes immediately glared at Bob, and his fists clenched. Bob got excited; he could see the anger in his eyes. “She seems attractive by human standards; where is she now?” Bob asked.
“Dead,” replied Friedrich.
“Did you kill her?” asked Bob.
Friedrich stood from his seat in an instant, obviously disturbed by the question. He then reached for his mask, and pressed a small button on the inside, which then caused a little light to flicker on and off. It was a homing beacon.
The Cerebronians gave them quarters, and gave them food for the night. The food was a strange transparent purple paste that was easy to shape into anything the consumer wanted. Greg played with it, poking at it with the strangely shaped fork he was given, and watching as it jiggled around, taking on new shapes like silly putty. He had never seen this kind of sludge before, but it was an experience for him, another reason he joined the Imperium military to begin with.
He mustered up the courage, plugged his nose, and took a small nibble. He beamed with enthusiasm, as he found it quite tasty. He then gobbled the rest up eagerly, seeing as how he hadn’t eaten since before he landed on Omaha port, and who knows how long ago that was.
After the strange but satisfying meal, Greg settled down on the man sized cot against the wall of the room. He felt as though he was in a prison cell. However, it was comfortable at that, for he wasn’t a prisoner, but more of an experiment. He stretched his weary muscles, and fluffed his pillow, before laying his head back, and falling asleep within minutes.
CHAPTER 25
Meanwhile, back on the Nazi occupied planet of Baronium, the Skullz mercenary organization was trying to prepare another offensive, to try and reclaim their city from the Nazi oppressors, led by Colonel Ostheim. Vulture, who had just recovered from his exhausting battle with the SS Elite clone, was seated at one end of a small table with a map of the city in front of him. Sabre and Drake were on either side, also examining crude blueprints of the city’s layout. They all sat there, clueless about what to do, not knowing what the next plan of attack should be. They weren’t a full army. They would only have one or two good chances at crippling the Nazi occupation, and they could not fight the entire army at once. Vulture stood up to get a better look, still holding a wound he received on his hip from the fight. He gazed at the map for a while, before finally coming to a realization.
“I got it; I know how to beat Ostheim”, said Vulture.
“And how would that be, oh wise and affectionate leader?” replied Sabre sarcastically.
“Well, the Nazis have this place on a stranglehold; they have unlimited resources, manpower, and weaponry. So, where are we supposed to strike?” asked Vulture.
The other two just stood there blank faced, awaiting the enlightening plan.
“We strike them where any person wouldn’t want to be struck. We strike their wallets”, he said.
“Their wallets?” replied Drake.
“Yeah, we strike their funding, cut off their supply line. We hit them where they get their resources, their primary investor.”
“And where would that be?” asked Drake.
“Universal Incorporated”, replied Sabre.
“Exactly. We attack UI who are funding the Germans according to Greg in a message we received yesterday. So we place one heavy punch to that son of a bitch, the Chairman, and cut off Ostheim’s resources for Baronium”, said Vulture.
“That is ridiculous. UI funds the entire regime, not just Baronium. Having said that, Baronium is pretty far away it; could take weeks, maybe months, to repair a severed supply line”, said Drake.
“Correct, my muscle headed friend. That could give us the perfect time and opportunity to fight back, for, by the time Universal Incorporated gets here to investigate what the fuck went down, we will have control of Baronium, and its planetary defences. We can blow those assholes out of the sky as they come down”, said Vulture, with much enthusiasm.
“Well, where do we attack? Universal Incorporated has quite a few factories here; since the Nazis came into power, Universal Incorporated annexed themselves quite a few establishments”, asked Drake.
“UI has a primary staging
point, a high roller bank. They have all their records, and business partner’s money is all stashed there. If we hit this bank, they could lose all their partners, and their investors on Baronium, dealing a huge blow to their economy in this quadrant, and, more importantly, this planet”, said Sabre.
“So, we are going to rob a bank? What is this, the Wild West?” asked Drake.
“Sounds like a plan to me. I have always wanted a nice mahogany desk, too. Maybe we could punk one of those from the bank as well… before we blow the joint up, of course. We could use the extra pocket money we get from there as well. Okay, so we need a game plan right now. How exactly are we going to hit this place?” asked Vulture.
“Well, recon from the locals, and a few of our guys on the inside, say the bank is located in the old Syndicate mob boss office building near the pier. They refashioned it, painted a bunch of UI logos on the side, and put together a lobby and vault for their money. A rather bang up job, seeing as how it didn’t take them more than a week to get it up and running, so it will have weaknesses for sure. This isn’t their architecture; the old Syndicate mob bosses owned it, and I am confident they didn’t know the difference between drywall and their own asses, so I think I can get us in”, said Drake.
“Well, let’s not forget the two battalions of Nazis that are going to be stationed there; one patrols the streets and alleys around the place, and one is inside at all times, spread throughout the floors. We would need a big explosion to take them out, and that could compromise our escape”, stated Sabre.
“Not if the explosion happens somewhere else. We will do the same thing that we did to that propaganda centre”, replied Vulture.
“If we blow up half a city block, and start shooting random assault rifles and pistols in the air near there, they will have to send some of their men to investigate. We could send out a false mayday frequency, saying there’s a massive rebel attack going on, and they need to send a lot of reinforcements immediately. By the time they get down there, set up their equipment and defences, we could be in and out with our pockets full of money, and a desk in my hands.”
“Sounds good, seeing as how we have little other options. So, where are we supposed to get in?”
“The pier. You said it was in the old Syndicate mob boss HQ, right? Well, the sewers connect our hideout to the surface, and all the manholes there. We follow the sewer system, go into the water, and climb up from behind; go straight up their ass”, said Vulture.
“Well, pitter patter, let’s get at ’er”, said Sabre.
“What the hell was that?” asked Vulture.
“You know, let’s get going? Um, let’s fuck shit up?” asked Sabre, embarrassed.
“That’s more like it. Let’s go, get the teams together. I want two squads with an ass load of C6 explosives ready in twenty minutes”, ordered Vulture.
The three then separated, hastened towards their armory and barracks, preparing for the battle ahead. They gathered their equipment, their loyal followers, and their Ecclesia serum, and briefed all the men on their missions.
Team A was responsible for setting off the explosion in an uninhabited section of the town, near the office building. Team B was responsible for keeping the three captains safe. After the money was secured, another bomb would be placed to cover their escape, but this bomb would be set off in the office building itself. It wouldn’t be enough to just take Universal Incorporated’s money; they would have to take down their property, forcing them to rebuild, granting the Skullz even more time.
The mission was afoot; the men all in place, the explosives were all rigged to blow at an abandoned apartment building’s support beams. Vulture, Drake, Sabre, and fifteen Skullz members eagerly awaited Vulture’s signal before jumping out of the drain pipe into the canal.
Vulture peeked above a mossy ledge to see the Nazi infantry running drills in the former parking lot of the makeshift bank. He opened up his radio frequency, and gave the order. Not two moments later, a massive boom rang out through the city, as the building came crashing down a few blocks away, followed by small arms gunfire that lit up the sky behind it.
The Nazis immediately stopped their drills, and looked towards the smoke in the distance. They all rushed for their vehicles and weapons, before blitzing towards the mess. This was the opening they needed.
Vulture and his companions all charged the main entrance of the bank, throwing aside any Nazi straggler who was still there. Vulture walked towards the front door, proud and strong. He punched the Ecclesia injector on his chest, and tackled his way through the reinforced glass doors. Drake and Sabre both looked concerned, as they calmly opened the doors on the other side, showing that they weren’t locked.
Not even flinching as glass and pieces of metal frame fell around him, Vulture held up an automatic assault rifle, and began spraying bullets in all directions. His reflexes and his aim were in check, and he hit many targets, a few of them innocent UI employees.
As Vulture’s bullets flared, Drake, Sabre, and the rest of the team all sprinted through, splitting into two groups. Half went under Vulture’s right flank, and made their way along the right wall of the lobby; the other half mimicked the same plan, but on the left. Vulture ran out of bullets for his clip, reloaded, and took cover behind one of the teller desks. He looked around, as pieces of concrete and drywall fluttered around from the onslaught; he also seemed surprised at how fast Universal Incorporated was able to convert a drug cartel into a rich man’s bank.
The bank was on full alarm, but no Nazis were close enough outside to answer the call. The Skullz had them pinned down where the diversion explosion took place. There were women screaming, and people scattering all over the main lobby. Vulture and his men were barking orders to each other trying to maintain organization. Sabre’s team went up the stairs, and Drake’s went up the elevators, floor by floor, to clean out any Nazis that infested the building. Vulture went straight up the main elevator to the top floor by himself; he was going to get the jackpot, alone.
He stood there in the elevator, watching the numbers light up as he approached his target. He slowly bobbed his head to the calming elevator music, trying to drown out the gunshots, and people’s screams from the outside. Finally, the elevator came to a stop, and the bell dinged as the doors opened. He ran into the hallway with his weapon drawn, but eventually came to a stop.
This hallway was strange. It was long and grey; the carpet was a pale red and the doors all were made of what seemed to be nice rosewood. He slowly crept down the hall, not knowing what to expect. He continued to cautiously walk down the hallway until a loud buzz halted his progress. All at once upon the ceasing of the buzzing sound the doors of the hallway opened. Every single one simultaneously, and from inside the doors came the rest of the Nazi battalion stationed to guard the bank.
There had to be thirty doors on each side of the hallway, and each door seemed to spawn multiple Nazis. The Nazis all crowded the hall, which was wide enough to fit three of them standing side by side, all of them mingling amongst themselves before one finally turned towards Vulture. He stared straight in Vulture’s eyes before finally yelling out to the rest of the soldiers. All of them raised their weapons, and aimed at Vulture. Vulture’s world stopped around him; everything froze but his brain.
He thought to himself that he was done for; he knew he couldn’t survive this. This wasn’t going to stop him, however; he merely stood there staring back at his enemies. He grinned sadistically, and slowly reached for his Ecclesia button. He pointed one finger, and pushed it, slowly and calmly, then lifted his own weapon, before letting out a loud and glorious howl.
The Nazis were stunned, and didn’t know how to react. Vulture used this opening, and charged them head on. While snarling, he pulled the trigger of his gun harder than he had before.
All time seemed to slow, as Vulture charged his way through the hall, with his we
apons blazing ahead. The Nazi infantry were so flustered, and so baffled at this attack, they all opened fire in all different directions. As Vulture pounded his way through the obstacles, he could see the bullets fired by the Nazis zoom past him in all different directions. He tackled the first group of Nazis. As they fell backwards, they knocked over the dozens that were standing behind them. With all their weapons still firing, sending bullets all around them, the floor became almost impossible to walk on, with all the bullet casings that were riddling the carpet.
Vulture shouted with triumph, as his body became a bullet in itself, piercing the flesh that was the German battalion standing in the hall. Bodies fell left and right; men were screaming in both German and English.
Vulture was still charging, trying to maintain the momentum. After making it halfway through the gauntlet of Germans, Vulture’s guns ran out of ammo. His fingers were still pressing down on the trigger, hoping that the harder he pushed, more bullets would magically appear. He pressed so hard that the trigger cracked under his strength, and the entire handle of his guns shattered and fell to the floor like freshly broken glass.
He finally came back to reality, realizing he had no weapons, and maybe another thirty Germans to deal with. He pressed his Ecclesia button once more, cracked his neck, and raised his fists.
The bewildered Germans tried regaining their composure, still shocked by the amount of gunfire and people falling everywhere. Vulture didn’t want to waste this window of opportunity, and he approached his first victims. He threw his right fist towards his first target, smacking him in the jaw. Another Nazi threw a punch of his own, but Vulture grabbed his arm with his free hand, and tossed him over his shoulder. He plunged his foot into the stomach of a third, and back handed a forth, jumped and kicked off the wall, and round housed a fifth in mid air. He then kneed a sixth in the groin, grabbed his hand, and used the gun in the Nazi’s hand to shoot himself in the face. He pulled the gun from his hand as the corpse fell to the floor, and fired three rounds into the seventh soldier. He threw the pistol at an eighth, knocking him off his feet, and then Vulture stomped with his right foot, hard into the eighth’s face, denting his helmet, and breaking his skull. As the ninth charged, Vulture stepped to the side, and swept his leg, tripping him, and then punched him in the throat in mid air, throwing the German’s own weight behind him, turning him into a human cannon ball, as he knocked the tenth and eleventh on their backs.