Hey everyone! I've decided to replace the previous chapter with this one because, well, when I sat back and thought about it, the more I realized just how OP I made Kurt and I joust grew more and more unhappy about what I wrote. I only recently got the time to update it, and for that I apologize. Also, would any you be interested if I started another story crossing over the main character from Spec Ops: The Line with Mass Effect? Do comment and let me know. Other than that, enjoy!
Dreams filtered through his pain-subdued mind. They came and went. Memories surfaced as well, both pleasant ones that Kurt reminisced and ones that he wished would go away. However, it was when he woke up periodically that he would long for the depths of darkness, good memories to be had or no. Bright lights, and shouting. Both injections to and of his blood were taken to the point he thought that his arms were being grasped and sawed off.
I would kill for some morphine.
He drifted in and out of consciousness, wishing that his body would make up its mind. But it was when he felt the final injection of chemicals into his bloodstream, he knew he was going out. His vision had started to darken rapidly, the pain subsiding, until Kurt only had one last thought flash through his mind:
This isn't going to be good..
...
"Ah, Kommandant! A pleasure to see you in such well being!"
Kurt opened his eyes. There he stood, in a memory of his fighting on the Eastern Front. He remembered clearly where this had once taken place, as the setting was that of a command bunker, drab and grey with radio staff bustling about and swastikas hung from the ceiling.. Looking around, he felt himself and discovered that he was wearing one of the now outdated Reich service uniforms, old assault rifle and all. Artillery shrieked in the distance.
"Kommandant?"
He briefly looked up to his former commanding officer; Herr Beltzen, if he remembered right. Short, wiry, wearing glasses, just looking at him again made the former soldier clench his hands.
How he hated Beltzen now for what he had made him done.
Before he could say anything, however, Kurt suddenly felt his body stiffen. Losing control over himself, he, uncontrollably, felt himself smile and eagerly report, "Heil Hitler!" while raising his arm in the standard salute.
Beltzen smiled, albeit frostily, returned the salute, and, upon his signal to relax, past-Kurt did so.
"Formalities aside, I'm sure you know why you've been brought here in such a rush," he said, all the while smiling. "You're service to the Reich has been undeniably contributing to our successes against the Russian counter offensives we've seen as of late."
"Danke, Herr-" Kurt began, but was quickly cut off by Beltzen himself, saying, "Now now, we needn't such drab addresses on an occasion such as this, do we? We stand here today to acknowledge your serve and achievements at such and essential time for the Fatherland."
He paused.
Kurt watched as he turned suddenly, stepping to a table with a small, ornate wooden book set on top of it. Reaching inside, Beltzen quickly pulled out the medal that was so highly coveted among Germans troops; the Iron Cross, First Class.
Turning back and stepping to Kurt, he began to smile that despicable, smug grin Kurt so dearly wanted to wipe off his face. However, despite he knew what was coming next, Kurt could do nothing except watch as Beltzen began to speak.
Shaking Kurt's hand, he continued, "I doubt we need go through what this medal l is or why you deserve it. After all, taking out an enemy trench single-handedly, with no team support, air support, or else is deserving of praise."
Beltzen paused, before adding, "No to mention over fifty enemy combatants were in that trench. Taking them out cleared the way for the Fuhrer's much desired advance into Lesser Russia."
Past-Kurt remained silent, and Kurt could only feel his dread building up as he knew what Beltzen would say next. Sure enough, as the diehard Nazi began to reach out to pin the medal on Kurt, he stopped. His eyes were suddenly cold.
"There is, however, just one thing you must do to prove you are willing to commit everything to our great cause. It's nothing too difficult, you see. If you'll come with me, Kommandant."
"Ja, Herr Beltzen."
Even though he had just addressed him formally, Beltzen only smiled coyly, and led Kurt further in the bunker.
...
"You see, to prove you are willing to do anything for the Great Leader, I need you to do the Reich a service most could not."
Beltzen lead Kurt into a small cell, a bare, flickering bulb providing the only lighting for a room cut off from sunlight.
However, it was what was on the other side of the cell that caught Kurt's attention. For there, stock still, were three former Red Army soldiers, handcuffed, and still in their tattered uniforms facing the wall.
There were two grunts, who Kurt didn't much remember, but it was the one in the middle, who couldn't have been older than fourteen. He was shaking slightly, and was muttering what might have been prayers, even holding a small cross.
The air suddenly became much colder as Beltzen said, simply:
"Execute these men."
Unholstering his Luger and putting it into Kurt's already outstretched hand, Beltzen stepped back, hands behind his back, his face a mask.
Kurt knew what happened next, but even as he tried hard to force himself to leave the dream he was in or turn away, his eyes were glued to what was unfolding before him. And trying as hard as he might, he couldn't turn the pistol on Beltzen instead.
He would have loved to have said he hesitated, fighting a moral conflict in his head of humanity or orders when he was told to execute the former soldiers.
The truth was that, as it had happened, moments after Beltzen had told Kurt to execute the prisoners, the handgun was raised.
Three bullets left the chamber.
Three bodies hit the dirt.
Beltzen stepped forward, afterwards, smiling, pinning on the Iron Cross and saying something Kurt couldn't have made out either in the past or now. Then, he had been so euphoric and delighted in his rewards that he couldn't wait at all to show the others his medal.
Now, Kurt knew exactly who he was. He was a murderer. He was once proud of it, too.
The guise of being a soldier could have covered up his killings for a time, but in the end, either way, Kurt had killed in cold blood. The boy with the cross would forever remain a part of Kurt, to remind him of the blood he had on his hands.
His medal, how he despised it, Kurt kept to serve as a reminder of what he done, and how he would never serve blindly to another again.
Kurt Meyer, once a soldier of the Reich, was and forever would be a murderer.
Then his world was dissolved, sucked into a blinding white.
...
"I want to know where these men came from, and I want to know now!"
Captain Lasky was never one to lose his temper, but with the recent amount of servicemen killed, including Crimson team, he just couldn't help but direct his fri
subtraction towards Palmer and Halsey, both of whom had been called to his office for a conference on the recent chain of events.
Halsey was the first to respond, saying, "It's entirely likely that they are from an Insurrectionist group we've yet to encounter on the Outer Colonies, but that still doesn't explain how they managed to use a Forerunner artifact to get onboard."
She paused, before adding, "Or what their intentions were."
Palmer glanced at Halsey before looking back to Tom. Her words had only slightly affected him, as he was still visibly upset.
Before she could make a move to comfort him, however, Roland appeared on his desk whit a slight bow.
Lasky, brow going up, turned to Roland. "What is it!"
Roland, seemingly brushing off the brusque remark, said, "I would like to inform you that Unknown One is now conscious and in stable condition in Medical. He hasn't said a word so far."
Lasky looked at Palmer.
"Let's go formally meet this newcomer, then."
...
Ever since gaining consciousness, Kurt had remained silent, ignoring the nurses and orderlies that had come up to him. He rested with his eyes closed, contemplating what he should do or say, if he should look for an escape or play along.
When he had woken up, he was instantly subjected to a variety of tests and blood samples before he was, quickly, left alone. A nurse had handed him what was labeled as a "UNSC Serviceman's Data-Packet," to pass the time, as the smiling orderly had told him. When Kurt had begun to read just what the extraordinary touch based data packet contained, tentatively touching and scrolling the screens, more than one nurse had rushed to him to check on his vitals.
The nurse who had given the pad to him had gone away, muttering how the entertainment value in them needed serious changing or else more patients would die of boredom rather than wounds.
How wrong she was.
Being the quick reader as he was, he was able to sift through a massive amount of information extremely fast. It was no small surprise to him when he learned, for example, he was actually on a spaceship, and not a ground side hospital. The year was 2558, and no mention of the Reich was to be found. This faction's name was the USNC, formally the United Nations Space Command, formed to protect Earth and all of her colonies from the Covenant...
The further he went in, the more and more interesting things became. It was only after he had explored everything unrestricted on the data-pad that he finally began to look at his surroundings, still recovering from the shock of learning where he was.
It appeared that he was in a medical wing of some sorts. No windows, but still brightly lit with nearly everything in sight being white colored, and though it wasn't drab by any means it still looked rather.. bare. Rows of medical beds lined the walls to his left and right, and it seemed as though he was in the center.
His armor was also gone, and he was in nothing but a patients gown, he wouldn't last a moment against security personnel. Though there were somewhat cheerful nurses and polite doctors in the long, empty ward he was in, at either end there stood two heavily armed and armored soldiers in blue, holding what seemed to be vicious looking machine guns.
Escape wasn't viable at the moment, it seemed.
Still with eyes closed, he contemplated his team, and how they were most likely dead. Truth be told, it was possible throughout any part of their escape from the Reich that any one of them could be killed, and he had so steeled himself for that possibility.
It would honestly be tying up loose ends.
As he thought, he heard a commotion at one end of the ward. Opening his eyes, he turned to see multiple soldiers and scientists, apparently, bustle through the opened glass doors that had previously been locked.
And I caused all this.
It was when a multitude of them, including the trio he had seen in that hangar, made their way towards him he simply resigned himself to the fact that he would have to bear through a great deal of questioning.
Internally sighing, he simply thought, Here we go, and faced the oncoming crowd.
...
As Lasky approached the man, his escorts, aside from Halsey, stopped and waited at a respectful (yet close) distance, in case the unknown would try something. As Lasky approached, though, the man, laying on the hospital bed that had been provided to him, simply watched, not so much as moving a muscle.
Stopping just a few feet from the newcomer's bedside, he examined the man, albeit briefly. He had dark, regulation cut blond hair, icy blue eyes, and an overall stoic disposition. His face was sharp, not being overly pointed but not flat, either. He had a good build as well, suggesting former intensive training, like that of a soldier, who couldn't have been more than thirty.
All the while, the newcomer seemed to be examining him the exact same way, slightly unnerving Lasky. So he decided to cut right to the chase.
Clearing his throat, he began, "I'm Captain Thomas Lasky, Commander of the UNSC Infinity and task force 101. I'd rather not this be an unpleasant experience for the both of us, so I'm going to ask that you identify yourself and how you got onboard this ship."
The man remained silent, raising an eyebrow. Lasky tried again.
"I know you can speak, like you did to Dr. Halsey here," he said, motioning with a wave of a hand to Halsey, who merely nodded, "and I'm asking you identify yourself and explain how you managed to get onboard the best ship the UNSC has near undetected."
The man shifted a bit, before speaking in a semi-smooth voice, accented by something even Lasky couldn't place.
"Kurt Meyer," he began. "And I do believe you're the one who had my men killed and myself shot." His tone unexpectedly became much colder, his gaze icier. "I don't know how I winded up here with my men, but I find it rather rude you have me shot without explanation."
Lasky, for his part, managed not to look sheepish and rather put on placating tone. "I assure you, Mr. Meyer, such things are not commonplace onboard this ship. Your sudden arrival, onto this ship, however, is another matter entirely, and though you look human to me, your armor and weapons are both unregistered and unrecognized. Your men, also cost me quite a bit of personnel who-"
"-were firing on my men, no questions asked," Kurt dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Lives were lost, but that does not change the fact you started what you did."
Lasky, growing slightly irritated, tried a different approach. "And your equipment? The markings? How do you explain those?"
At this, he pondered for a moment, before leaning forward. "I will explain to you what it is and where I come from under certain conditions, Captain Lasky, if you will."
Lasky, raised an eyebrow. "And what would those be?"
Kurt appeared to smile lightly, without humor, before continuing, "I wish to have my armor and weapons returned to me, and I assure you I will personally disassemble them. I also request that no matter what, you, and only you hear my story and believe what I say to the best of your ability. And as for my last condition, I would like a separate room for which I may stay. As lovely as this all is-" he gestured, waving to the ward they were in, "I'm afraid this just isn't my taste."
Lasky now had both eyebrows up, and was rather incredulous at what the man had just said.
"And what makes you believe that I should grant you these conditions?" he asked.
At this, Kurt looked him directly in the eye. "Because, Kapitan," mispronouncing the word sharply, "it's the least you could do after shooting me and my men without giving us a chance to explain. Add to this that you will only be able to find out my background through me only, and I believe my request is rather reasonable."
Staying silent for a moment, Lasky looked to Halsey, who had stopped her typing. "I think the demands are reasonable, Captain. Provided he stays true to his terms and remains under watch," she offered.
Thinking for a moment, Lasky sighed, and met Kurt's gaze.
"You'd better have one good explanation for this."
