In February of 1945, the Nazi war machine is getting desperate. Enter "Die Glocke".
In February of 1945, the Nazi war machine is getting desperate. From the west, the combined weight of the British and American counterpush from the Battle of the Bulge is gaining steam. From the east, twenty million Russian soldiers are marching onward towards the destruction of Nazi Germany. The Germans are attempting to find any way to turn the tide, and one avenue they have chosen is science. In two locations, one in Poland, and one in western Germany, two machines are being made. The Germans have discovered how to use them, and have discovered a new subject of interest through the gates of the machines......
I've been writing the rough draft of this for about two weeks now. The first few sections are ready, so they're up.
Abe Hansen banked his P-51 Mustang fighter as he crossed the border into Germany. His job was to collect information. Enemy troop movements, positions, supply lines, anything that the Allies could use against the Germans. But so far, all he had seen was snow and trees. A lot of snow and trees. It was getting very tedious. He checked his watch and then glanced at the sun to make sure his watch was somewhat correct. He sighed, then shivered. The cold was biting even with his flight jacket. He swore he could feel it slowly freezing his bones. As he mentally complained about his woes, he glanced at a road barely visible behind the trees. He did a double take. He could see something moving down there, what looked like whitewashed vehicles. He passed it, then came around for another pass, this time with his binoculars. This time there was no mistaking it; there were vehicles down there. At least a dozen half-tracks. The two in the middle of the column had tarps pulled over them. On the hood of one of them, he glimpsed something that clicked in his mind. There was a flag tied to the front of the vehicle. It was blood-red, and it had a small white circle in the middle. He couldn't make out the symbol in the circle, but he already knew.
It was a swastika.
He mentally noted the location and direction of the convoy, and what it consisted of. Then he immediately broke off and flew towards his home airfield, wishing he had enough fuel for at least one strafe.
Lieutenant Friedrich Keppler was in a panic. No one outside of his division or the Führer himself was supposed to know of his convoy's existence. They had been moving at a steady clip for the past half-hour, and had made good time. His cargo was secured, and well-protected from the elements. But he didn't realize the sound of his engine was drowning out the sound of the American plane. When he saw it above, he ordered his group to scatter. They did so, but they were either unlucky or just not fast enough. As they were moving under the tree canopy the plane did a second pass. That was when Keppler lost any hope of secrecy, and ordered the convoy to make full speed to their destination. But one thing bothered him. The plane was obviously a fighter, and the pilot had spotted them. But it hadn't strafed them. If it had, the parts in cargo would have been shredded to pieces, even with the lead lining. Either way, they had to make it to die Fazilität soon, before more American planes appeared.
**************************************************************************************** "So you're sure these were German vehicles?" "Yes sir, as plain as looking down at a blooming sunflower patch." "I see." Captain Henderson stood looking at the point on the map where Hansen had viewed the German column. "What doesn't make sense, Lieutenant, is that there are no Wehrmacht bases in the area that we know of. And that column you saw sounds like it wasn't even a full company. There is no reason a German halftrack group would be randomly wandering the wilderness." "Respectfully sir, but when desperate, who cares about authority? Maybe they're deserters banded together trying to reach home." "No, German soldiers rarely abandon their posts, and never in those numbers." Henderson tapped the map while Hansen watched. Henderson thought for a moment, then turned to Hansen. "Lieutenant, how long have you been flying?" "Er, since I was about fif-" "No, I mean recently. How many recon missions have you flown?" "In hours or flights?" "Hours." "Um, about forty." Henderson nodded at that. "That explains it. You are probably suffering from fatigue. Also, the snow probably threw you off. I'm going to get you sent back to England for a while for R&R." "But sir, I can still fly!" "Not after two days' time of flying. Go pack your things." Defeated, Hansen slumped and walked out of the building to his barracks.
Night had fallen across the land, yet one regent stayed awake.
Princess Celestia sat in silence, staring at the papers in front of her. They covered her desk, and the subject was frightening.
They were missing pony reports.
There were around fifty of them. Most of them had come from Ponyville, but a few were from the road between Ponyville and Canterlot. What made them so disturbing is that they were mostly unicorns, and that they had all happened within the last three weeks. Each report was about the same: The pony would go for a walk or would depart on a trip. Anypony nearby when they disappeared witnessed nothing. There usually was no trace, except for a large scorched area, and around that area there was churned dirt, with the grass or any plants removed. Also, reports of strange figures a few miles outside of Ponyville were given by pegasi who happened to fly nearby. They all said that they saw large things moving in the forest beneath them, attempting to keep track of them, but the pegasi would always fly faster and escape from whatever was below. Many strange things were happening in the area around Ponyville. But it seemed the Princess was powerless to stop it. She had assigned some pegasi to patrol Ponyville's outskirts and keep watch. Two days later three of them vanished, but this time no one knew where. Princess Celestia had changed the assignment after that. No flying at night, and each pegasus must fly fifty feet above the tallest tree. She called for any pegasi from Ponyville to help search for the missing ponies. None had been found so far. She turned and looked at the moon. Nightmare Moon's outline was visible on it, yet it would still be a few more decades until she returned, and Celestia could find a way to set her free. She desperately missed her younger sister, Luna. She- "Princess!" Two ponies rushed into the room and quickly bowed. One was a pegasus, a guard of her court. The other was an earth pony, an adviser to the Princess. "Yes? Bountiful, what are you doing awake at such an hour?" "Your majesty, we have a new development on the disappearances!" She shifted from hoof to hoof. "We found one of the three pegasi!" "Who was it?" "Her name was Thunder Wind." "Was?" "Yes, your highness....she's...she's dead." Celestia's eyes widened slightly at this. "Take me to where her body lies." "Yes mam! We've left the body where it was found. There is something wrong with everything there." "Well, let me see for myself."
Princess Celestia's chariot landed softly in a large clearing. She could see clearly by the moonlight, although it didn't reveal everything. "Your majesty, we found her over...there." She turned to see a small pegasus standing there, looking in the direction she pointed in with fear. Celestia slowly made her way over to the area. As before, there was a large circular area where all of the grass was dead. But instead of a ring of missing grass, here the grass was white. It was also completely dry, there was no moisture left within it at all. Her first thought was of Discord. But then she thought more about it. Discord had never killed anypony before. That reminded her of Thunder Wind. She walked over to where the body lay, taking care to avoid stepping on the grass. She reached the body. It was white, not unlike the grass. Offhoofedly she asked Bountiful, "What color was she?" "She was yellow, your highness. Her cutie mark was a cloud with lightning under it, and a sun above it." Celestia's gaze shifted to Thunder Wind's flank. It was blank. There was no cutie mark. Celestia's thoughts began to spiral. She regained her composure, then used her horn to see if any magic had been performed there recently. Nothing. She looked back to the body. At that moment, two pegasi flew up and moved the clouds so that the Princess could get a better look.
What she saw shocked her.
Thunder Wind's eyes were glazed over. But the shocking aspect was that her eyes were crystallized on the outside. Also, some patches of yellow remained in her fur and mane, but everywhere else was white. Finally, she also noticed the wings. The wings showed Celestia something she had not realized: This pony had been in intense pain when she died. Her left flank was upturned towards the sky, showing a perfectly bundled wing. But her other wing was crumpled underneath her, broken and useless. Then Celestia noticed something even more horrifying. There was a hole right above Thunder Wind's left eye. Something had killed this pony with precision. As she stared at the body, a tear rolled down Celestia's cheek. Even during the times when Chaos reigned, she had never seen anything as cruel as this. This was apparently done in a manner unknown to her as well, which made it all the more frightening. She turned and walked slowly back to the chariot. "Bountiful, I want a doctor to look at that body, and find out what happened if they can. I want to avoid any more of these incidents if I can." As she climbed aboard her chariot, she breathed in. She smelled something...strange. She had never smelled that scent before, and knowing this made her skin crawl, and the fur on the back of her neck raised. She shook it off and dismissed the ponies bowing before her. A pony had died this day, or a recent day, and this was cause for mourning.
Sergeant Lewis Atwater of the U.S. Army's Rangers trudged through the snow behind the Lieutenant. The rest of their squad followed behind. They were all exhausted, and were shivering. They had been walking for about two hours now, and the snow was thick and deep, making the walking in itself a tiring experience. Soon they reached a tree line, and dug foxholes for a short rest. They broke out K-rations, and started a small fire. Atwater mulled over their task while he ate. Their objective was to probe the German defenses in and around this area, even though everyone knew there was nothing here except an abundant amount of possible firewood. They were supposed to take up a position and monitor the area. This would be simple enough.
Atwater stood watch. The squad was sleeping behind him, and the fire was long dead. He clutched his M1 Garand rifle to his chest in a desperate attempt to conserve body heat. He sat, shivering even with the newspaper stuffed under his jacket and blanket. 'Woe be me," He thought to himself. 'I knew Jackie was right. This is Hell frozen over.' He shook his head, chuckling to himself. As he gazed into the forest, he heard something. As it grew louder, he realized it was someone muttering. He quickly realized it wasn't English.
Vater unser, der du bist im Himmel, Geheiligt werde dein Name. Dein Reich komme. Dein Wille geschehe auf Erden, Wie es im Himmel ist. Gib uns heute unser tägliches Brot....
He recognized the sound....then two things clicked at the same time. First, the speaker was reciting the Lord's Prayer. Second, and most importantly, he was reciting it in German.
Atwater turned and punched Jerry in the arm. Jerry jumped. "Who the hey the what the f-" "Shut up! Wake up the others, there's a Kraut out there!" Atwater hissed. Jerry nodded and moved off. Atwater turned back towards where the voice had come from.
And saw the German soldier standing there. With his back turned. Urinating on a tree.
Atwater slowly got up and began to move towards the unsuspecting German. As he approached, the German buttoned up his trousers and turned around.
And took a bayonet through the heart. The man slumped to the ground quietly. Atwater stood there staring at the body. He hadn't ever killed anyone before, and the fact the man had been a Christian strained every nerve in his body. He just stood there in shock at the blood on his bayonet, his mind numb. He felt something on his shoulder. He sat there a moment longer, until the Lieutenant tapped him on the shoulder again. "Sergeant, what happened?" "I saw a lone soldier approaching out position. I alerted Jerry, then realized the man-" he choked a bit as he remembered he killed another human being. "The man was unaware of my presence, and his back was turned. I pressed the advantage. Sir." The lieutenant looked at the body on the ground. Suddenly, they heard a voice calling in the distance, accompanied by the sound of treads grinding. "Ralf? Ralf? Wo bist du?" The grinding came closer. The Lieutenant took cover behind a tree, and Atwater did likewise. "Ich sehe etwas! Da drüben!" The Lieutenant raised a finger to his lips as he looked at Atwater. He responded with a nod. The others were too far back to see. As they watched, they saw two men reach the body of 'Ralf'. "Was zur Hölle? Er ist tot!" The two Germans brought their rifles up. Both toted MP-44's, and they each racked a round. He heard them move off after a brief period, one carrying the body. The grinding had stopped, and he heard voices. Suddenly, the lights of the half-track came alive, blinding Atwater and the Lieutenant. The lieutenant instinctively covered his eyes with his arm. Atwater did likewise. He heard shouting, and it was coming closer. "Da sind sie!" Atwater lowered his arm as quickly as he could, only to see the butt of a rifle approaching his face. He fell to the ground as reality faded away...but not before he heard the gunshot.
Chills. Up and down his spine. Vague shapes moved between half-shut eyelids. Hearing slowly came to him. He opened his eyes slowly. A face was staring down at him. The man's face was haunted, by things he had seen and experienced. He was gaunt, and had thick stubble all along his chin. He blinked once, then backed away. Atwater rose from the steel floor. He looked around, and saw more men huddled around him. He realized he was in a large steel cage. Everyone in the cage, including himself, wore grayish-white suits, with a number above the left breast. He glanced around, and the men just stared at him. "Hello, do you understand English?" They stared at him numbly. A man pushed his way to the front. He spoke with a heavy Russian accent. "Privyet, American. What brings you to this fascist prison?" Atwater glanced around and realized he was in a sterile room. The walls stood about fifteen feet from each side of the cage, except for a wall the same height as the cage, that seemed to be a partition. He heard whimpering and soft crying from the other side of the partition. He turned to the Russian. "My name is Jacob Atwater, U.S. Army Rangers. Who are you?" The Russian seemed taken aback by his statement. He scratched his beard, then replied. "My name is Sasha Lopotev, Corporal in the mighty Red Army." Atwater nodded, then looked at the partition. He nodded in the direction of it. "Who's over there?" "We don't know. We've tried Russian, Dutch, Polish, and German. No luck. Only reason we haven't tried English was because we thought the Americans were farther away." As soon as he finished speaking, the faces around Atwater lifted. "Amerikaner?" They repeated again and again, and he just nodded. They immediately began cheering, then realized that an American soldier was imprisoned. At this moment, a iron door opened in the wall. Three men stepped into the room and two shut the door behind them. One went over and drew an previously unseen curtain across the opening to the other side of the partition. The crying ceased. Obviously those on the other side knew what was happening. The Germans were in the well-known black uniforms of the SS. One was clearly an officer. He surveyed the crowd of prisoners. He then clapped once. Immediately two slits opened in the walls and MG-42 barrels were pushed through, giving a lethal warning to any prisoner who tried anything. He then unlocked the door and gestured to three men. They exited, heads low, as if heading to an execution, which for all intents and purposes they might be. Then the officer closed the gate again, and opened the room's door. Four soldiers entered and took the prisoners away. The door closed. The officer then walked stiffly past the partition, through the curtain. Then, Atwater heard something strange.
"Please, sir. What is going on? Why are we here? Did we do something wrong?"
Atwater then heard the gate open and close again, and heard a distinct clop clop clop before he heard the gate close, and another door open.
"Where are you taking me? Please!"
The door slammed. The officer appeared through the partition like a wraith. He glared at the men in the cage, then exited through the door. One man came to give two loaves of bread and a water pitcher to them. The men around him orderly lined up and began to each take a small portion of bread and a sip of water. Atwater was shocked. How could men so thin and starved eat like this? He then looked back at the wall. The MG-42's were still pointed at them. Atwater got in line.
Atwater rubbed his stubble. It irritated him. He prided himself on being well-groomed for most occasions. But on this occasion his pride was not applicable.
Since the first Selection, he had wondered about many things. First and foremost was his squad. He was the only one of them here. Either they were dead, or in some other holding cell. Second was escape, which he and Sasha had spoke of. Third was what was behind that partition? The people on that side spoke a form of English, but not with an accent he was familiar with. He had argued with himself for the past hour about if he should call out to them. He decided not to.
That day's selection started. The Germans came in. The gate opened. But this time, the officer gestured to him. He walked out of the gate.
And punched the man in the face.
He grabbed him and spun him around, drawing the officer's Luger in the process. He aimed it at the two soldiers. One brought up his gun and was promptly shot. The MG-42 slits ripped open and started firing. Many prisoners fell before all of them ducked down to save their life. Atwater turned and shot the other man. The prisoners on the other side of the partition were screaming in terror. Atwater knocked the officer unconscious. He then shoved the Luger through the slit and fired. The gun immediately stopped and he heard a scream of pain. The other gun stopped firing as well. Atwater stopped. He walked over to the curtain and drew it back.
He stopped in surprise and confusion. A small creature that looked like a candy-colored miniature horse stood in the cage, surrounded my many others. He then realized they had horns. And some had wings. Then one said, “Hello, my name is Sugar Bun, what’s yours?”
Princess Celestia worried for three days. She waited for the report back from the doctor. As she waited, a combined report of two missing ponies arrived. The situation was deteriorating. The citizens of Ponyville were starting to panic. Many were moving away. But a new break had appeared: a pony that had attended the School of Advanced Mathematics. He had discovered there was a pattern to the disappearances. Each time somepony disappeared, it was a certain distance and angle away from the last one. The next time, her guards would be waiting, and watching.
Keppler had his lead vest on. His mask and helmet was ready. His men were prepared. This would be his team's first excursion since the botched attempt. He went over the last excursion in his mind.
It started off normally enough for a trans-dimensional trip. Die Glocke started up, and before the radiation began to be generated, he and his team entered through the hatch on the device. They buckled in. There was a mind-jolting rocking of the whole device, and then the feeling of vertigo. This lasted for about thirty seconds. Then it stopped. They sat in the seats for the designated one minute. They then unbuckled and grabbed their weapons. Keppler climbed out and checked the clearing they had landed in. His men climbed out after him. "Okay. Just find one of the horned ones, and we bring it back alive. Ja?" They moved through the forest, clearing various obstacles. After about an hour, they saw one of the flying ones overhead. Johann lifted his MP-44. Keppler grabbed his comrade's rifle and shook his head. They kept moving. As they were moving along, they heard voices in the distance. They found the source. Three of the flying creatures were hovering in a clearing, talking. Keppler told his men his plan. They could capture three of the fliers. That would make the colonel happy. Keppler went back to watching the creatures. "So what do you think we're looking for?" said the red one. "I don't know, Cloudy." This came from the yellow one. "Thunder, how about we split up. We can cover more ground." The one called Thunder immediately tensed. "No, BAD idea. Guys, if we split up, then whatever it is that's kidnapping everypony will be able to get us one at a time!" Keppler's eyebrow raised. He made his face neutral, then stepped out. All conversation between the three immediately ceased as they looked at this strange creature who had suddenly appeared from the forest. "Hello, my name is Keppler. Who are you?" He put a friendly tone in his voice. They looked at him with worry. One began to back up. "No, please. My friend is hurt very badly. I need your help. Please." They looked at him, then nodded. He made his way back to the forest. As they slowly flew in after him, Johann and Peter jumped up and drew bags over the creatures' heads. Keppler got the yellow one under a bag. They brought them back to Die Glocke. But as they were getting close, the one he had bucked him in the stomach. She jumped free, and while she was trying to get the bag off of her head, he jumped for her. She dropped right as he did. He landed on her. He cringed as she cried out and he heard a muffled crunch. He knew immediately what happened. He stood slowly. She sat on the ground, the bag lying in the grass. Her eyes were puffy as she looked up at him. "Wh...why?" He blinked away a tear, took out his Walther, and put her out of her misery. The other creatures panicked. Keppler's comrades shoved them into the storage area in Die Glocke. A tear ran down Keppler's cheek. They weren't supposed to kill these things. They were completely harmless. His job was only to retrieve subjects for study. He wasn't responsible for them after that. But this...this was just against the laws of this place. These things weren't supposed to be killed in such a way. He climbed back into Die Glocke's transport chamber. Johann hit the lever, and the machine turned on. As the jolt started, he remembered something. The grass. They were supposed to remove the grass.
Johann hit the lever. The machine jolted, and then the familiar vertigo hit like a wave of water. They sat, then when they reached their destination, they waited one minute. Then they exited. The moved about forty feet before they ran into something. Keppler put his hand out. He touched an invisible wall. He backed up in shock, and ran into another wall. He realized he couldn't hear anything. He put his hands out. He was completely enclosed by this invisible box. He looked over at his men, and saw that they were likewise trapped. He drew back and smashed the stock of his rifle into the wall. All it accomplished was to put a fracture in the wood of the rifle. He saw that there was no use. He sat down on the grass. He looked over at Johann. Johann brought up his rifle and fired. The bullet completely vanished. Then Johann's jaw dropped. Keppler followed his stare. Then he stared himself. A larger version of the creatures they had been finding was approaching from the forest, flanked by multiple of the regular sized ones. It came closer. Its mouth opened, and Keppler heard a female's voice, but stronger and nobler than the females they had encountered. "Who are you, and why have you been taking my subjects?" Keppler just sat dumbfounded. She must be queen. "M'am, my friends and I are just mere explorers, and-" "Lies. I know what you did to Thunder Wind." This put serious strain on Keppler. He had had multiple nightmares about that, about putting the pistol to that creature's head. He regretted ever making the mistake that broke its wing. "I know you killed her after breaking her wing." He sat in silence, and an unbidden tear rolled down the same cheek as the last one. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Johann stood up and shouted something at the ruler. She turned. "Silence, you obnoxious foal." She turned back to Keppler. "Why have you come?" Keppler just sat there for a moment to collect his wits. He then responded, "To find subjects to study. We thought maybe we could find something to save our land." Her eyebrow raised slightly. "And you thought that by taking my ponies from their homes, you could find a way to save your land? I don't think you know what you're doing." "What?" "You are only doing what you're told. You know nothing of what happens to my little ponies, do you?" "I am assured-" "You don't. Now. I want you to leave. Drop your weapons on the grass, get back in your machine, and leave. Then I want you to bring my subjects back to me....as many as you can. Then I may forgive you of this sin." Keppler nodded dumbly. Johann was shaking his head no and shouting something at her. Suddenly, he vanished. Peter tried to flinch away but was blocked by his containment. Keppler turned and stared at the imprint in the grass, and the rifle lying there. "Wh..where did he go?" "Moon." She turned and walked away. He got up, and dropped his MP-44, and Peter did the same. They climbed back in Die Glocke. They jolted. Peter was in shock, and so was Keppler. Johann was gone, and they had been threatened with the same. Keppler began trying to figure out a plan.
[Unknown], 1945 [Unknown] Local time [Unknown Location]
The black slowly gave way to a dull, blurry gray. The light was dull, and there was only the sound of his breathing. He tried to move, but ropes tied to the chair restricted his movement, as well as the handcuffs. He rattled them again and again. No use. He sighed, then relaxed. He sat for an undetermined amount of time, alone with his thoughts.
He was awoken when the door opened, and three men came in. Two had very strange weapons, but the third was unarmed. The man was clearly of some rank. The man stood in front of the prisoner, and took off his gloves. He grabbed them by the openings, then slapped the prisoner across the cheek, drawing blood along the cheekbone. The prisoner flinched. "Sergeant Atwater, Jacob." He coughed. "U.S. Army, Seri-" He was slapped again. The officer reached into his pocket and withdrew Atwater's dog tags. "I know who you are. My question, though, is vut you are doing here." "Sergeant Atwater, Jaco-" The next slap drew even more blood. Suddenly, a knock came to the door. The man looked up. Another German soldier walked in, wearing the rank of lieutenant. he snapped to attention. "Herr Gustav! Es ist eine Nachricht für Sie!" "Ich verstehe. Beobachten Sie ihn." The officer left the room, and the lieutenant closed the door after him. He looked to the American and nodded politely. Then one of the guards walked over to the other and calmly shoved a knife into his chest. The man looked at him in shock, then slid to the floor. Atwater looked t them in horror. "Herr Atwater. We need your help." "Why? What's going on? Why'd you kill him?" "We're rescuing those creatures." "What? You mean those horse-things?" He laughed before realizing again the situation he was in. "Why are you going to save those things?" "Because we want to live." He walked over and cut the rope with his Hitler Youth knife, then pulled out a Luger. "Lean as far away as you can." Atwater did so, then heard the gun fire, and then felt intense stings throughout his wrist. He held it up. It had multiple shrapnel entries on it. "Let's not do that again." They all looked up when the door started pounding. The traitorous guard opened the door and pulled the trigger on the strange looking weapon. Atwater heard screams and the sound of crackling electricity. The guard closed the door again. He turned to the lieutenant. "Beeilen Sie sich, Keppler!" The Lieutenant sighed, then shot the other chain. Atwater yelled as yet more shrapnel was flung into his other hand. The lieutenant drug him out of the chair. "You are the one who killed the guards and incapacitated Herr Gustav, no?" "Uh, I guess." "Can I trust you?" "Can I trust you, is the question." "The feeling's mutual, then." The German handed Atwater the other guard's weapon. "What is this?" "The DG-2. We got a crate of them from Der Riese with the last convoy." "Lost me. But as long as it shoots, I guess I can use it." "Good." The lieutenant nodded to the other man, and he opened the door. He stepped out and checked the hallway. It was clear. They began making their way through the hallways. They were empty. Then they started hearing the gunshots. They sounded unlike German or American weapons. An explosion rocked the base. They all looked at each other. As they walked, a door ahead to the right was flung open. A German came rushing in, only to be cut down by whatever was behind the door. They slowly walked over. Suddenly, a man in a white parka and pants appeared holding a Thompson submachine gun. A gas mask hid his face. He saw the man in the uniform of a prisoner and stopped. A voice rasped through the mask. "Are you Atwater?" "Yes, who's asking?" The man pulled his mask up. "I'm Captain Jerrod, British SAS. I'm here to get you the bloody hell out of here." The Germans just stood there, looking at him. He stared back. Finally Atwater spoke. "Go. We'll meet you by the entrance. We've got to do something." Jerrod looked at the Germans one last time, then nods and leaves. The Lieutenant beckons Atwater and the guard along. The base is getting quieter, and the gun shots are bleeding away. They encountered many dead bodies on the way to the holding center, many of the German, but there were also many bodies of SAS soldiers. As they ran, they saw signs pointing them to the holding chambers. As they got closer, they could hear solitary gunshots. The Lieutenant kicked down the door and brought up his Luger. General Gustav was looking at him, a smoking Walther in his hand, and all of the human prisoners dead at his feet. He smiled, then started to say something.
He was cut off by a single nine millimeter bullet.
The body fell, and screaming began from the other side of the partition. Atwater ran through the curtain, then stopped. The creatures were sitting there staring at him. he looked down at himself. Blood was on his hands and some was on his face, most likely from the General. He also left bloody footprints. He winced at his appearance. The creatures just stared at him. "My name is Atwater, I'm here to help." One stepped forward. "Really now. Last person who said that was him." The creature pointed at the Lieutenant. he shrank back away from the winged creature. "Please, no, I didn't, I don't....." He collapsed under the stare of the creature. He began to cry. Atwater looked at him in shock, then back to the winged creature. "What did you do to him?!?" He brought up the DG-2. "Ask him what he did to Thunder." Atwater looked at him. The man was a wreck. His pistol was in his hand. He started to raise it towards his head. The guard jumped and grabbed it from his grasp, and efficiently unloaded the weapon. The lieutenant shook his head. He was sputtering. Atwater pulled him to his feet."What is wrong with you?" "Ich habe nicht zu bedeuten! Es war nicht meine Schuld!" The lieutenant choked this out through his tears. "What? I can't speak German!" The lieutenant looked at Atwater. "I killed her. I shot her dead in the field."
[Unknown], 1945 [Unknown] Local Time [Unknown Location]
Atwater just stared at Keppler. The man who, in Atwater's eyes, was the face of the enemy he had been fighting. At least, until the man and his friend had freed Atwater. But still. The man was a wreck; his eyes were locked shut, and he was bawling into his fists. "Lieutenant!" The man just continued to cry. Atwater seized him by the shoulders and shook him. "Dammit, Lieutenant! Tell me! What is going on?" The man just repeated, "I shot her...." again. Atwater dropped him to the floor. He whirled around to the small creature. "What did you do to him? And also, what are you? How did you get here?" He slapped himself on the side of the head. "And why am I talking to taffy with wings?" He sat down on the cement floor. The red creature walked over to him and held out a hoof. "I'm Cloudy Day. I'm a pegasus pony, from Equestria. And he-" the pony pointed, "killed Thunder Wind. I don't know how, but he killed her with that thing." He pointed again, this time to the Luger in the guard's hand. Atwater leaned back and massaged his temples. This wasn't making any sense. "I'll work it out later. Now though, is not the time for you all to go." A hand fell on Atwater's shoulder. "But it is, Herr Atwater. Mine and Sergeant Peter's redemption rests upon it." Atwater turned to see the tear-streaked face of the Lieutenant. The man had a look of grim determination on his face, put there by the remembrance of the Princess's words. He pulled Atwater to his feet and handed his DG-2 back aftre picking it up on the floor. "And you will help us. Please." Atwater shrugged. "Will it help to get me out of here?" "Yes, it will. We will lead you out once we are finished." "Fine then. Let's get these things out-wait, how are we going to do that?" "You'll see, Herr Atwater."
They sprinted down a hallway, and found a large steel door. Gunfire was rife throughout the halls as the distant battle between the Allied Special Forces and the Germans continued. As they moved, they heard less fighting sounds, and more movement. As they were running, they heard voices, and skidded to a stop. The pegasus hovering behind them flew back around the corner to tell the others to stop. Atwater risked a look around the corner. Three SS soldiers with MP-44's and one soldier carrying a DG-2 were in the intersection just ahead. He looked to Keppler. "Lieutenant, how do I use this?" "Point and pull." Atwater nodded. He slowly eased around the corner, took aim, and fired. An electrical bolt ripped through the air and attached itself to the closest soldier. He shrieked in agony as he burned to death. Immediately, the other three brought up their weapons. Atwater shot another as he fell back into cover. He heard the man's cries from around the corner. The odor of burnt hair and ozone wafted into his nose, and he fought down bile. He looked at Keppler. Keppler nodded. "Hold on." He opened a pouch on his belt, and took out a German stielhandgranate grenade. He uncapped the end, pulled the primer, and flung it with flourish at the intersection. A scream, a thump, then nothing more. Atwater cautiously went over to where the men had been. Two charred skeletons and two bloody bodies were all that remained of four human beings. Atwater leaned over and threw up on the floor.
A few minutes later, they arrived at a large steel door. Six men were standing in front of them, wearing olive drab uniforms and carrying a variety of Allied weapons. All of which were pointed at Atwater and his two benefactors. "Drop the bloody weapons, or we'll shoot!" Atwater nodded, and slowly set the DG-2 on the floor. The two men alongside him followed suite. As they straightened, the men before them rushed them and knocked them to the ground, planting a knee in their backs to keep them pinned. Atwater lifted his head from the cement floor, and began speaking as loud and forcefully as possible from that position. "My name...is Sergeant Jacob Atwater, of the United States Army Rangers. I-" "Shut your hole, I know who you are. You're one of those Yanks they sent us to rescue. Bring 'im over here!" One of the British commandos lifted him to his feet and pulled him over to the door. The others kept their weapons trained on the two Germans that sat, not resisting, on the floor. "My question for yeh, is who are these two jerries, and why are they following you?" "These two men rescued me. We're trying to...solve a problem of sorts. You see-" He was cut off as shouting began down the hallway. The quick sound of boots falling also echoed towards them. The commandos immediately lunged into whatever cover they could access. "Lassen Sie sie nicht in der Nähe der Kammer!" One of the commandos leaned out, and started to speak, only to be cut off as bullets began to zip past. He ducked quickly. "Sir, there's a lot more of them than there are of us!" He shouted back to the man who was obviously in charge. He nodded. "I can see that, Rupert!" He hit the deck, taking aim with a small, wicked-looking submachine gun with a magazine protruding from the side. Keppler and Peter got up and hurried to the gates, then started inching them open. They pulled with all their might. "Oi! What do you think you're doing?" One of the commandos rushed Peter, and was given a swift punch into the jaw, knocking him to the ground. Atwater was on his feet seconds later, and kicked the gun the commando was raising away from him. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay down, friend!" He began to help heave the doors open. As they did this, the fire increased. Rounds pinged off the walls, and he noticed that two of the six were injured, one of them seemingly dead. He grimaced, and they finished opening the door. Atwater turned to Keppler, who was entering the quarantine room. "Lieutenant! Toss me one of your grenades!" His order was followed, and he turned, pulling the chain at the bottom of the handle, then flinging it down the hallway towards the German soldiers. The roar of its detonation followed shortly thereafter, and the British nodded in satisfaction, before tending to their wounded. Atwater turned to the captain and spoke plainly. "Listen, you're about to think you've gone insane. Just don't scare them, and it'll be fine, 'kay?" The captain rose to his full height and glowered at Atwater. "Insane? I think you're the one who's in-" Atwater whistled loudly, cutting him off. A soft fluttering sound was heard, then the pegasus came carefully around the corner towards them, scrutinizing the British commandos. He turned and looked at Atwater with distrust. "Who are they?" The captain stared, slack-jawed at the hovering pony. He quickly regained his composure, although continued staring. "Sergeant....what in God's name is...that?" "This is Cloudy...Cloudy something. He's from some place I've never heard of. You want answers, talk to Keppler." He motioned towards the German Lieutenant, who was now being watched by a corporal wielding a Lee-Enfield. They walked over to Keppler and nodded to the pony that followed. "Lieutenant, we've got a respite for a moment. Now tell us, what is going on?"
A/N:God....I finally got some time today to finish this chapter. I believe I could do better, but life is kind of getting in the way of everything right now. I'm going to be moving next month, and my time is being spent packing and trying to figure out a place to stay. I know it's been a really, REALLY long time, and I feel like It's probably going to take a while to get the next chapter up as well. Sorry, guys.
