by Shad N Freud
“Monologuing,” Carl muttered distantly as he buried the Major’s blade through his right eye socket and into his brain, shutting the lich up as the light went out in his eyes. He then looked up at the General, who stared in shock at how easily Carl had dispatched his minion. He pointed at the lich, then ran his thumb across his throat, clearly indicating the General was next. Carl watched as his people dispatched the zeds between them and the bunker, and reached into his coat, pulling out his trusty flamethrower.
“Burnin’ in the morning, burnin in the evenin’, burnin at supper time!” Carl sang tonelessly as he swept his flame thrower left and right, incinerating the zeds as he made his way over to Jin and Zeke to help abort the giant toddler.
∞∞∞
Cenere winced as he watched Carl dispatch the Major with greater ease than opening a bag of crisps and looked up to see the bunker’s barriers falling faster than American Public School standards. He placed his hand on Camilla’s shoulder and she turned to look at him. “You get the Doctor, I’ll take Stitcher?”
Camilla stopped to consider his offer, then nodded. After all, it wouldn’t be fair to hog both of her hated foes. As the pair scythed their way to the bunker, they saw the General flee, running away from the pair of murder-clerics as they bore down on the pair of lichs. Camilla’s hammer came down on the last barrier and it shattered like glass, getting lichs attention. She and Cenere stepped into the ruined bunker and both smiled darkly as they parted ways, Camilla and the Doctor having unfinished business.
“Ah, Liebschen. You couldn’t wait to see me again, could you?” the Doctor said as he fired a burst of hot lead at Camilla who juked behind a support pillar while the doctor tried to retreat. “I do so look forward to having you under my care again. I think you’d look much better without those breasts of yours. They’re the first thing I’ll cut off. I was too gentle with you last time.”
“Shut yer dick skinner, ye dunderheaded cunt, and fight. I'm in nae mood to play yer fuckin' mind games tonight.”
The doctor leered as he swapped magazines. “Is that because you’re menstruating, frauleine, or because you missed me that much?”
Her eye twitched and she grit her teeth. Her monthlies had ended that morning, as a matter of fact, but her uterus always cramped for a day or two after her Aunt Flo went home, and she refused to admit that he’d been near the mark. She waited for a pause in her foe’s assault, then screamed as she jumped out from behind her pillar, and flew at him with a fierce Scottish warcry, swinging her hammer for his head. “Git fucked ye Kraut faerie!”
∞∞∞
Cenere dodged a lash from Stitcher’s whip as he let fly a handful of throwing knives. She giggled in a raspy voice as she spun out of their path, the knives burying themselves in the concrete as she flung scalpels that he narrowly dodged. “Such a pretty man,” Stitcher mused as she looked at him with her “good” eye, her rotting mouth drawn up in a rictis grin. “And such soft skin! I can’t wait to have you under my knife, little tiefling! Oh, such music you’ll make as I cut off strips of your flesh to add to my babies!”
“Maybe when Dis freezes over, you ugly bitch,” Cenere snarked as he snapped his blade back, the segments lining up into a solid blade and allowing the whip to wrap around the “teeth” of the blade. He smirked as he swung the blade like a whip and shredded Stitcher’s lash.
She simply smiled as she whistled; the shredded ends transformed into fanged leech-like creatures who lunged at Cenere while her “whip” grew back to its previous length. Cenere smirked, then shrieked an impossibly high note and the tiny pests fell to the ground as sonic blades carved them to pieces. The leeches crumbled to dust, and he spun to avoid another flight of scalpels.
“This is going to be my whole day, isn’t it?” Cenere sighed in resignation. This fight was going to take a while.
∞∞∞
Zeke struggled to free himself from the agitated infant’s grip after the ridiculously large construct had finally grabbed him and was staring at him dumbly for a moment. “Baaaaaa.” The infant gibbered discordantly, then raised the lizard to its mouth, filled with row upon row of serrated teeth. Zeke snarled as his hands sprouted three-inch claws from the fingertips, diamond coated blades that were normally stored in his forearms, activating their high frequency vibrational function. He then ripped his way out of the tyke’s grip, severing a couple of fingers, and giving himself enough wiggle room to free his arms before he began hacking at its wrist.
The infant screamed in pain and brought its other hand down on the lizard, stunning Zeke and temporarily breaking the lizard’s neck before tossing him in its squalid mouth and biting down. The rheumy eyes widened as it tried to chew the lizard, then spit it out. The infant clutched at its mouth with its good hand as acidic blood gushed, shattered teeth laying on the ground around Zeke who seethed in impotent anger while he waited for his spinal cord to knit itself back together.
His eyes widened in terror as the tyke grabbed him with its good hand and tried to crush the lizard. “N-not again,” he murmured as the tyke gurgled, and smacked him against the pavement a few times before tossing him away, the lizard cursing colorfully in Chinese as he flew through the air.
Meanwhile, Jin came in for a heavy landing, various wounds on his body streaming with blood. Some of the smarter undead had grouped together and had been firing upward at the dragon, and the sustained fire from the zeds had finally injured Jin enough that he needed a moment to regroup. He sighed in relief as Carl strode towards him, shifting back to his gnomish form to make healing the varied bullet holes easier.
Carl nodded to him as he looked up at the biggest bastard on the battle field, then did some quick math in his head as he put his flame thrower away before pulling out some shaped charges. He was done playing around; he really wanted to go take a shower and drink himself to sleep. If Jin could read minds, he likely would have agreed.
Carl sighed, setting the shaped charges for a single remote detonator and began flinging the bricks of C4 at the massive toddler. He waited for Zeke to get thrown to the ground again by the furious toddler, then pressed the button, annihilating the construct’s lower half and spraying the area behind the big baby with acidic gore, dissolving dozens of zeds where they had been shuffling about aimlessly, as if they were no longer being controlled. The upper half of the baby’s flesh was badly shredded by shrapnel from the destruction of its lower half, and the twenty-five-foot-long half-baby dragged itself back towards the bunker, screaming for its “mama.”
Carl paused, then grit his teeth as he pulled out more shaped charges and primed them for remote detonation. Booze might not be enough tonight.
∞∞∞
Heinrich watched his undead army crumble, the remaining zeds a fraction of their former numbers. The deuce and a half the toddler of doom had been in finally caught fire, it’s container utterly shredded when the temporary space extension enchantment failed when the infant woke up. His army was beginning to shamble aimlessly, the General's control over them lost. And, to top it all off, that damned orc had destroyed half of the infant in an almost nonchalant fashion, further reducing the number of zombies still on the field. He reached the edge of the wards and sighed with relief when the tingle faded. He began to laugh as he pulled out another emergency gate device and turned to face the battle. He may have lost the battle, but he would-
A gauss round tore through his hand, and destroyed not only the gate device mid activation, but also the entirety of his arm. The gate device discharged its energies all at once, and blew the general to pieces, leaving him a partial torso laying on his back, part of his skull missing. His broken body tried to move, but the desiccated spinal cord in his neck was severed, preventing his damaged brain from communicating with the rest of his body. All he could do was watch in horror as his hopes and dreams crumbled to dust before his eyes.
∞∞∞
Cenere dropped to one knee struggling to catch his breath as he looked up at Stitcher, her
filthy smile growing more sinister. “Such a pretty face. I’ll be sure to remove it carefully when you’re dead. I have quite the collection already.” She stepped forward, and lifted Cenere’s chin with the tip of her boot, leering down into his eyes. “I-”
She heard the explosion that reduced the baby to an upper torso, and her head whipped around. The orc was looking over at her, holding up a remote detonator with one hand and flipping the bird with the other. She shrieked in rage as the baby screamed for its mama.
She turned back to Cenere, who laughed as he forced himself to stand. He coughed up a mouthful of blood and spat it on the floor. “I…I think it’s about time we end this little game. So…” Cenere swayed on his feet. The scalpels and likely that damned whip of hers were coated in some come of anti-coagulant, which is why his wounds were still bleeding. He fell back to one knee, this time feigning weakness. Well, partly. His head was swimming due to whatever poison she’d used on him. But, he thought to himself as he calculated his odds, she was distracted by her twisted maternal feelings.
Another wail drew her attention back to her creation and Cenere smiled as he made his move. He pinned her foot to the floor with a throwing knife, drawing her attention to the blade in her foot as he struck. An upward cut with his sword sliced Stitcher from groin to left shoulder. She screamed with rage as another throwing knife pinned her remaining hand to the ground. She glared up at the tiefling as he struggled to breathe. Cenere looked down, into her good eye, then drove his blade into the empty socket hidden by the leather wrappings covering most of her face, and channeled Hellfire through the blade, causing her to shriek in agonized fury as the flames consumed the undead bitch.
He collapsed to the floor, rolling onto his back and staring at the flickering shadows cast on the ceiling by the burning lich. He smiled faintly, and laughed as he slowly lost consciousness.
∞∞∞
Camilla staggered as she fought to remain standing. Blood pooled around her feet as she leaned against a pillar for support. She found it hard to keep her eyes open, feeling very tired as she poked her head around the corner. The Doctor smiled that ugly rictus grin of his as his gun clicked, the ammunition having run out. He laughed as he tossed the gun on the ground. “Still alive, Liebschen? I’m afraid my gun is all out of bullets.”
Camilla shook her head to try and clear the cobwebs out of her brain. “Is...is that so? I suppose it's a good thing yeh got another gun behind yer back, aye?” Camilla shook her hands, seemingly to shake the numbness out of her hands as she fought going into shock, the contraption up her sleeve primed to pop out with the proper hand gesture. The Doctor stepped forward.
“Guilty, Liebschen.” He laughed as he brought his hand out from behind his back, revealing a luger. “I will so enjoy dissecting you soon, to see if you are as pretty on the inside.” His broken smile was absolutely hideous, Camilla thought to herself drowsily. Which is why the look of sudden shock on his face was so priceless to Camilla after her own hand snapped upward.
The derringer up her sleeve slid into her hand as she raised it, the hair trigger pressing against her finger and the .45LC silver bullet flying out of the barrel buried itself in his skull as runic engravings on the bullet activated. It detonated violently and painted the ceiling with congealed blood and shriveled gray matter as the top of the Doctor's head fragmented. The shocked look frozen on his face would be a cherished memory for the rest of her life.
Camilla felt cold and sank to her knees, pressing her hand against her chest and pouring her remaining strength into channeling the powers of Hell to try and stop the bleeding, but to no avail. She fell to the floor, bereft of consciousness, as the body next to her crumbled to dust.
∞∞∞
Zeke watched the two humanoid life signs dwindling in the bunker and forced himself up onto his elbows. He looked over to Jin and pointed at the bunker. “Cenere and Camilla need help.” Carl looked down at the lizard and strolled past the squalling giant baby, tossing bricks of C4 at its neck and face as he walked.
Jin was breathing hard after healing himself. His contribution to the battle had been far more draining than he thought, especially after healing all of his wounds. He staggered over to Zeke and looked down at the lizard’s back before cringing at the sight. While the teeth hadn’t broken his skin, the blunt force from its gums had flattened his spine, severing his spinal cord in numerous places. Jin grabbed a wrist and dragged the metal lizard, who looked like he’d been run over by a steamroller, away from the coming splash zone.
Carl rubbed his jaw with his free hand before pushing the button on his detonator and silencing the brat as he splattered the tarmac with acidic blood, viscera, and ruined machinery. He slipped the detonator into his pocket, then fished out his flip lighter and smokes, lighting a fresh cigarette as he strolled over to the pair in the bunker. He sighed and ignited his hand to heal his minions before remembering just why he had to use a lighter for his smokes. He rolled his eyes then fished around in his pocket, withdrawing a syringe of Lazerus Compound. He had only one other syringe in his coat and would need to start carrying more of them from now on.
He stooped down and jabbed the syringe in Cenere’s neck, squirting half the brown sludge into his neck before pulling it out, and moving on to Camilla. Seconds later, Cenere bolted upright, screaming as his bloodstream was flooded with adrenaline, the poison burned out of his blood, and the necrosis that had started to settle into his vital organs reversed. It burned like Hell as it did its work.
A moment later, a deep alto scream answered his own before being followed by a litany of curses in a thick Scottish accent, and Cenere smiled. He crawled over to Camilla and stared at the myriad bullet holes in her clothing. He then looked over at the remains of the Doctor and noticed the derringer clutched in her hand, the mechanism to retract broken. “Huh, guess it really was a one shot. Good thing you had it.”
Camilla nodded, looked down at her clothing, and rolled her eyes as she got to her feet. As she did so, she felt her ruined combats rub against numerous bullets just under the skin and sighed. She was going to need to lance a few lead boils before the day was over.
Jin dragged Zeke into the bunker and stared at the pile of dust. “Who was that?” Jin asked as he let go of Zeke’s arm.
“The Doctor,” Cenere said as he watched Zeke’s body slowly unflatten itself in morbid fascination.
Jin’s face scrunched up in confusion as he scratched his head. “Doctor Wh-”
∞∞∞
Carl stared down at the remains of General Heinrich Himmler. “Hello, Heinrich. It’s funny, you know…I actually looked up which generals escaped punishment during Nuremberg. You were the last one that hadn’t been nabbed in Argentina. So, as you can imagine, this is going to be so very cathartic for me.”
Heinrich’s remaining eye glared up at Carl as the orc squatted down and ashed his cigarette in the lich’s open skull. “Beaumont. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to let me go in exchange for the location of Adolf Hitler’s corpse?”
Carl paused for a long moment then took a nice, long drag on his cigarette. He then flicked the cigarette at the lich, the cherry breaking off on the edge of Heinrich’s skull and falling into his cranium, the hot cherry sizzling for a moment on the exposed, desiccated brain. “If all else was equal? I might’ve just taken you up on that. The very thought of desecrating your precious Fuhrer’s corpse? Almost priceless. But you…you helped give Ink her body back.”
Carl felt the call of nature, unzipped his fly, and pissed on Heinrich’s face. “And because of that, she tortured my wife and daughter for three days. Three fucking days! And when she was done, she killed them horrifically. The part that hurt the most? She made them watch. SHE MADE THEM WATCH!!!”
Tears streamed down Carl’s face as he stared down at Heinrich’s face. The look of dawning horrified comprehension on the lich's face as Carl zipped up his fly almost made him smile.
“She…she’s already killed me, I just
haven’t realized it yet,” Carl mused as he squatted down and ignited his hand. “You see this? Baneflame. It surprised me when it ignited while I was killing Ink, on account of it being so rare for anyone to have it. It burns the soul as well as the body. If you were still mortal, death would spare you, and possibly allow you to go to an afterlife. But you went and put part of your soul somewhere ‘safe.’ And, call me crazy, I get the feeling that your friends’ phylacteries are in the same place. Argentina, maybe?”
Heinrich’s eye flared in abject terror as it stared at Carl’s hand, then back at his face.
“And you know what? I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if your precious Fuhrer’s corpse is resting in the same chamber. Especially since his body was never found.” Carl looked at his hand, then balled up a fist and threw a vicious right hook at the General’s face, only to stop an inch short, the General screaming in terror.
Carl leaned closer, his dark eyes boring into Heinrich’s remaining pinprick. “Two for flinching.” Carl laughed ferally as he smashed both of his fists into the screaming lich, crushing dry bone and cracked leathery skin, setting him ablaze with his hands. The body kept screaming as it burned. Carl stood and stared down at the body as he lit a fresh cigarette. “Brennt, du hässlicher Ficker (Burn, you ugly fucker).”
∞∞∞
In a hidden bunker in Argentina, a silver Nazi stiletto melted as black smoke poured out the cracks that romed on the blade, the red ruby twitching rapidly as it cracked from the inside and black smoke poured out with an inhuman scream. The flames grew, setting alight the red velvet the blade was displayed on next to the other stilettos. The black flames grew and the other knives vibrated, twitching in horror as the flames grew closer. Watching from within a tank of formaldehyde was a short man with dark hair, brown eyes, and a moustache styled to fit perfectly into a world war one era gas mask, the body’s only mark a red spot at the temple where the brown shirted man had taken the coward’s way out.