DAY 1
B.J. Blazkowicz
I'm at a barbecue. White picket fences surround me. Caroline is there, a little girl perched in her arms. A spatula in my hand flipped burgers, using the edge to spin hot dogs. Hot air from the coals climbed onto my hands, and could've boiled my skin if I kept them there.
Back to the real world.
Hot blood trickled down from my forehead, over my right eye and down my cheeks. The cold wind blew against the holes from my lower waist all the way down to my legs; Deathshead's last gift.
The booms of explosions and pops of rapid gunfire soothed me.
"Blazko?" A scottish voice climbed into my ears, "Do you read? Am I clear to fire?"
A somber tone said all; Fergus knew where I was.
My lungs draw a breath, chest filling up. One, two, three- gah! Needles drove themselves into my chest, my teeth clenching together to bear through it.
...Four
Keeping my eyes scrunched shut, the tip of my index and middle fingers meet the headset. My voice gives Fergus my blessings. "...You're clear."
Goodbye….
My eyes shut off the world. The warmness traveling down my face disappears, the gunfire gives way to silence. The pain disappears…
I'm standing?
They inch open. My hands sprung up, blocking the blinding light.
I'm not alone.
Vision reveals people all around. People of varying sizes, shapes, colors, and...
Monsters…
A giant green man. A red creature with scaly skin like a rattlesnake. A monster with a horrifying maw…
Four armored men formed a perimeter around each other.
Soldiers. Heights are identical. White armor. Space Marines.
Nazi.
Their rifles erupted sparks of blue fire. Weapons from the Lunar bases. The world around me morphed into a tunnel, guards at the end of it. My legs sprung forward.
I pulled a blade out of my coat pocket, and hurled it at the one covered in red markings. The blade embedded itself into his left shoulder.
My hand slapped the barrel of his gun, swinging it away from me. My right arm wrapped around his neck, and his head ends up locked between my arms.
Argh!
I know the feeling of a bullet wound. It formed in the back of my right leg. The space marine took advantage and swung me over his back.
The concrete floor pounds my back, and a blade protruded out of his right hand. The same hand plunged into my throat.
My arms ready to pry it off, grabbing the wrist. But they lost all their strength. Numbness covers my entire body. Can't move. Can't breathe.
The soldier stands above me, shooting at something out of my failing sight. Black dots start to engulf my vision, and consciousness loses its grip on me.
DAY 5
Cole
The soldier climbed out from underneath Chief, away from the hostage taker.
Crunch!
A horrifying shriek of pain filled the hall. The man pounded on the concrete floor.
"Oh my god!" Ms Comstock stood hand over gaping mouth in front of her room, her corset just hanging off her chest.
Akane stood behind the grinning Wrex, her cool eyes watching the scene.
Crack!
Another shriek pulled my attention back to the scene. A leg bent in the wrong direction.
My feet carried me to and down the stairs. I stood behind Jaime and a blue suited man.
The bearded man who started all this sat at a door, treating a crooked bloody nose with a handkerchief. The large bald man was laid out on his back, clutching his chest. A white hooded man- who I could now see was a redskin- was on his back with blood trickling down his head, unconscious.
Chief stood over the hostage taker. "Lock him up."
"Lock him up?" Ms Comstock was rushing down the stairs, tugging on strings from the back of her corset. "He needs splints on his arm and leg!"
The Chief faced her, planting his feet on the ground firmly. "He's a danger, and the faster he recovers the more dangerous he gets."
She ignored the towering man and walked right past him, kneeled down and gently used her hands to inspect the injuries. "I need someplace to hold the injured!"
My hand raised, "I know a place!"
"Stop!" Chief grasped her right shoulder and pulled her away from the man. "What are you doing?"
"Helping them!" She shrugged her shoulder out of his grasp.
His hand went for her arm. "Leave them," he spoke with an icy tone.
"Let go of me!" She started tugging her arm. "You're hurting me!"
My hands tightened into fists, but my feet stayed still.
Jaime pocketed his blade and ran up and gripped a hand on the Chief's arm, "That's eno-"
In the blink of an eye, the arm shot up and struck Jaime's unarmored chest, sending him into the ground.
I stopped my left hand from reaching for an empty holster. Even if it was occupied, it wouldn't have been enough.
"What the hell are you doing?!" The blue suited man kneeled over the loudly groaning Jaime, supporting his back with his hand as he helped him up.
"Enough!" Arbiter growled and maneuvered between Chief and Elizabeth. "Unhand her."
They stared at each other, Chief's free hand tightening into a fist. The silence was mixed with the sound of painful groaning from Jaime and the large Eastern European.
The Chief finally relaxed his grip, and Elizabeth swung her arm out. She squared him up and down with narrowed eyes.
She took a deep breath, turning back to the now unconscious and crippled man on the ground.
She swivelled her head to me, "You said you know a place?"
Marcus was...a very large man. Him and Arbiter easily towered over everyone present, all while having hunched backs. His skin was a dark shade of green, large warts climbing down the left side of his face. His clothes- or armor? - was mismatched and ragged, one shoulder plate being rusted tin, the other coated in chipped orange, and goggles with lenses that didn't match in size. No hair sat at the top of his head.
Massive muscles contracted and contorted as he effortlessly picked up two people- the unconscious hooded man and buzz cut man who took the soldier hostage- slinging them over his shoulders.
The Eastern European- Russian, I realized when he cursed- couldn't move, and howled in pain whenever we tried to move him. We decided to leave him where he was, and come back later with a stretcher. The soldiers- Delta Squad- volunteered to watch him.
The bearded man who started all this could still move on his feet. Arbiter kept a steady pace behind him as we reached the garden.
He stared wide eyed at the scene before him, his bloody handkerchief now stuck to his nose with dry blood. "What is all this?"
"We don't know." Arbiter grasped his shoulder tightly, a cue for him to keep moving.
Me and Elizabeth took the front. Marcus carrying the buzz cut man followed, as well as Jaime, who was sporting a broken rib.
"What's your name?" I shouted back.
It took a good second before the bearded man realized I was talking to him. His voice came out sounding like a duck's wail, "Who, me?"
"Who else?"
"Archibald." His voice, I realized, had an accent to it, but I couldn't make out what it was. "Archibald Smith."
"That's a funny name," I noted.
Blood trickling down over his mouth, he managed a smile, "I'm told my comedic aptitude is also very high."
I briefly eyed Archibald up and down. He wore a black, floral patterned waistcoat with a red back, which matched the color of his bloodstained handkerchief, and gilded buttons over a white and blue pinstripe dress shirt. A golden chain snaked around two buttons. A large belt loosely hugged his lower waist, empty holsters dangling off of it. He looks kinda like…
I reached for my inner jacket pocket- except I had no jacket on. I instinctively patted down my body. Dang, must have left it in Arbiter's room.
"Misplaced something?" My head swivelled towards Elizabeth.
"My notebook."
Her eyes darted aside in thought, and back to me. "You keep everything in that book?"
"It's useful for keeping track of the finer details." The final door was coming up ahead. "This is it."
DAY 2
B.J. Blazkowicz
Faster than they appeared, the black spots that clouded my vision faded. My head felt like all the helium just escaped from it. I realized my feet were touching the ground- again.
Same thing as last time, people all around. What is this Nazi shit?
People and monsters. The guards again, taking formation. Guns are gone.
Fighting broke out again, mostly brawling this time. Their formation was broken up by a large bald man hurtling into them. I sprinted towards them again. My arms reached the one in red markings first, wrapping around his waist.
He tumbles to the floor back first. I blocked his hand- his blade was protruding out of it. I sat up quick, and rammed my elbow into his windpipe. I could feel the bone and cartilage crumpling underneath my arm.
"Get off of him!" I leapt to my feet, narrowly dodging the swipe of a blade. This guard was covered in orange markings. I remembered him. The way the group orbited around him told me he was the leader.
The other two weren't there though, they were preoccupied with a fight with the bald man. Heh, he was punching the shit out of them.
We faced each other, knees bent, fists on guard. Wheezing sounds came out of the helmet mic of the red one on the floor, his hands clutching onto his throat. The chaos of people kicking, punching, and biting all around.
He sent a fist- but I saw it coming. The way his foot moved with his left arm, readying to send force through it.
I leapt back, just as the blade jutted out of his fist. He rushed forward and took a swing, right to left. I ducked and dived underneath his arm, taking a little roll until I leapt back to my feet, gaining some distance between us.
Have to stay on the defense. The tranquilizer on that blade would take me out quickly. Have to find some other way…
I slid a knife out of my front pocket, and my feet began bouncing. My feet brought me to one side, then the other. He kept his guard up towards me. That's it, watch my feet. Don't look at my eyes.
While I was putting up this dance, I searched my surroundings. The one guard I got was motionless now. The one in green was holding the bald man in a choke hold, but that did little to stop him from pummeling the yellow one senseless. You keep them busy, I'll help you after.
I saw a door, and people moving through it. A tall, green armored man followed. Later.
A tattoo covered woman was flinging this...Blue stuff. When one trail of it struck a man covered in metal armor, it sent him flying across the room. Bingo.
I moved to his left, popped forward a little, causing him to jerk a little. A chuckle escaped my lips. Don't get too cocky.
My opponent lined up with the lady. Her back to us, her arms weaving a wall of blue smoke.
Dodge this.
I slung the blade between my thumb and index finger, and swung it towards the guard. He dropped to the floor, rolling into prone and springing into a sprint towards me- but I was already on him.
I locked my arm around his right elbow, keeping him from sticking me with the blade, and sent a fist into his left bicep before he could use his other arm.
I knew my blade had reached its destination, when the blue stuff cracked towards us.
I let him go by sending a strike slightly to the left of his solar plexus, causing him to double over, and my palms shoved him forward. I leapt out of the pathway of the blue smoke, just as he was sent hurtling- towards her?
She punched the air- sending another shot at his head. His head bent back first, and he spun in the air like a ragdoll. He landed on the floor, chest first, all limp. His head twisted too far back. That takes care of him.
I got up but kept my knees bent. Corpses dotted the room, so much that I couldn't find the last two guards in the mess. It took a minute to realize I was wet; blood from the floor had gotten all over me, soaking my jacket.
Violence still surrounded me. A woman in an orange jumpsuit delivered a beat down to a man in a blue jumpsuit, pieces of armor being torn off of him with her bare hands.
A monster with glowing red tendrils impaled a red hooded woman lightly decked out in armor, knife in hand stabbing desperately at the appendage. She probably knew that was a bad idea. Probably didn't car-
My feet disconnected from the floor. My right shoulder and the side of my head smacked into the concrete wall. Everything lit up, a small millisecond spark. Everything was too blurry to make out now. A soft pressure on my bottom was all I could make out; concrete floor.
A voice cracked through, all muffled. "-I didn't see that? You fuck!"
A massive force struck me. The pressure shifting to my right side, and I felt cold drool escaping my mouth, but I know that wasn't just saliva.
"Think you could use me?"
An onslaught began. Pounding after pounding after pounding. I started to lose feeling in my body all over. A violent train had decided to bash me in.
Please God. Kill me now...
The hot air of the barbecue climbed up my arm. Smaller arms wrangled around my waist; a smile reached my eyes, as my hand reached down and mangled the little girl's- my little girl's- hair. Front lawn sprinklers, her giggles, and the sizzling of hot dogs and burgers were all I had to hear. This smile was all I had to see. All I had to think about...
DAY 6
Blue light found its way inside of my eyelids, and like curtains, I rolled them away, revealing blurry scenery before me. I blinked a couple times, an attempt at wiping the vision clean. I called on my right hand to help- Pain.
"Hssssss!" I hissed through my teeth. Pain like electricity dancing all around my arm.
An alarmed voice met my ears. "He's waking up!"
"Lady Comstock!" British accented. A man. "Lady Comstock the man is waking up!"
My arm came into view, a rope wrapped around the wrist, dangling the entire thing in the air above my chest.
"I'm coming!" Another voice. A woman who sounded very young. "And please don't call me that!"
"Turn down that noise!" A familiar Russian accented voice growled loudly.
Clack Clack Clack Clack!
Heels against the floor grew loud, towards me.
A blue silhouette topped with black hair entered my view, leaning in close towards my face. The first feature to clear up were her eyes. Blue as the sky and the sea...
Something touched my forehead- and I jerked back.
Her arm had stretched over to my head. She was just trying to open my eyelids. Count to 4 ...Inhale. Count to 4… Exhale.
Her thumb gently pressed against my left eyebrow, exposing my eye. Her own eyes searching me, up and down, and with firm brows spoke to me without a word: 'You're going to be okay and I'm gonna make damn sure of it'. I've seen that look before, many times.
"Please," Another, deeper voice appeared to my side, standing next to my dangling arm; a tall, scrap armored man, with green skin and facial warts. A mountain of muscle. "Don't try anything."
His tone was polite and soft, but I didn't doubt the warning. "...Yes sir."
Her finger released my brow. "Do the splints feel comfortable?"
I checked. My leg felt fine, but my hand was a bit too far to the left. "Yes ma'am."
"Good." She reached up, grabbing the bar of metal that my hand was tied to, and tilted it slightly to the right. "You're very modest."
"Thank you, ma'am." My vision had cleared all the way now. She was covered in sweat, her ponytailed hair disheveled with straying strands of hair. She's been working herself to death. I could see why when I moved my head up the bed; There were multiple beds around us. The Bald Russian- 'The heavy'- was resting with bandages wrapped around his torso, and the native american was unconscious with his hood down and bandages wrapped around his head.
There was another man right next to me, holding a bag of what must've been ice on his exposed chest. He stared at me with eyes paralyzed by nervousness. Must've been the other side.
"My name is Elizabeth." My attention turned back to Lady Comstock. "This is Marcus." He moved around my arm so I could get a better view of him. Very muscular arms hugged his chest, and one poked out to give me a wave.
"Blazkowicz," I answered before they could ask. "William."
She pulled her knee off the bed, and stood over me. "Are you hungry William?"
I didn't lie this time. "Yes ma'am."
She walked away, leaving me alone with Marcus for just a second, and came back with a see through bag. "I know it's not much, but you can't really eat with a plate." She held up the bags in front of me. "Hot dogs, or Hamburgers?"
Cole
"John Jordan, Miguel Sanchez, and Arthur Shaw," my notebook was laid out on my lap, the pages showing the names lit up by the machine sunlight of the garden. "The respective names of the hostage taker, Aboriginal man, and the Russian, given by Archibald Smith."
Arbiter sat on his knees, ripping open a transparent bag full of food, which looked to be pieces of chocolate. My eyes were transfixed on him, as his tooth covered mandibles grasped a piece, sealing shut and contorting as he chewed. He saw me staring at him, and quickly held the bag up to me. "You trust him?"
"Not even a- Thank you." I picked three pieces out of the clear bag, tiny orbs of chocolate. "The way he speaks, his manner, his clothes...Reminds me of a snake oil salesman."
"Snake oil?"
I popped a piece into my mouth. Sweet chocolate rolled over my taste buds, and as soon as I squeezed the piece between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, peanut butter exploded out from it. The tip of my pencil began etching on a blank page.
"Untrustworthy, trying to sell something," I spoke with a full mouth. "Full of bullshit."
Arbiter produced two more pieces from the bag. "What of the girl?"
"What girl?"
He held a piece an inch from his mandibles. "Archibald demanded to see a girl when he attacked Delta squad."
I popped another piece, flipped a page, and jotted down 'Demanded to see a girl?' under the profile I was constructing for Mr. Smith.
"Never mentioned her." I glanced at Arbiter, chewing the candy with eyes closed. Must be impossible to talk with a mouth full.
After finally swallowing, Arbiter laid the bag gently on the grass. "When do you intend to start the interviews?"
I had etched 'Luxury candy among provisions?' next to my sketch of one of the chocolate orbs, a page reserved for evidence. "I've already started with Mr. Ken and Mr. Smith. Now though, I'm gonna start going door to door."
"Can you start with Glass?"
An image of a purple suit and a wheelchair flashed before my eyes. "The cripple?"
He nodded. "There's something about him…"
I flipped another blank page titled Case Objectives. 'Mr Glass priority interview'.
"Anything else?"
"Yes actually," he brushed his hands clean. "When you start interviewing, can you start a list?"
"What sort of-" My question was interrupted by a door bursting open across the river. I peaked my head over to spot Ms Comstock.
"Mr Phelps!" She called, "Your hostage taker is awake!"
Grass turned to concrete under our feet as we rushed to the makeshift hospital, past the second living quarters.
Rooms were stripped of their beds, repurposed for the hospital, one for each patient plus five just in case. The Aborignal man, wearing ragged white colonial period clothes and now sporting a head bandage, laid out unconscious on his bed. The Russian laid howling in pain, bandages wrapped around his ribs.
Mr Smith got his own private room.
Our hostage taker- Ms Comstock told me his name was William- had his bed situated next to Mr Lannister, also sporting a bandage around his ribcage. William had his arms and legs sealed in makeshift casts composed of random rods and straps, and he was very much awake.
Marcus sat on a stool with cross arms. The nurse's bodyguard.
I grabbed a seat and pulled it up next to the glaring patient, Arbiter standing at his feet. "Ms Comstock here-" I pointed with my pencil, as I produced my notebook along with it- "Tells me your name is William, is that right?" At his nod I pressed my lips together. "Well, William, I have some questions."
I sized him; his bomber jacket had been taken off and left at the base of a bed leg, revealing the grey shirt he wore underneath it. He sported a buzz cut, a scar running along the blonde hair at the right side of his head. "What kind of questions?"
I pressed my lips harder. I didn't know this man, or that woman, or that creature or this creature or the other people and monsters that were here with us. I didn't know what was going or where I was or if I was even alive and not dead in hell, and I needed to somehow find out who this man was and discern the truth?
I took a breath, and I did what I did best; I read him. He was stone faced, which means he wants to look stone faced, which means he's hiding something; That he's scared probably. But why did he attack us?
But he didn't. He attacked Delta Squad.
I realized I had been silent for a good half of a minute. "Why did you attack those soldiers?"
He considered the question carefully. He looked between me and everyone- Arbiter, arms at the side, staring down at him through his helmet.
Marcus, cross armed with a relaxed expression on his face.
Then Elizabeth, who was resting her knee on the bed and looking at him with soft eyes.
He took a deep breath in. He exhaled for what must have felt like five minutes. "I attacked the guards because I thought they knew the way out."
"Guards?" Then it hit me. Armed and armored, work together as a unit, prison-like environment…
"You are very much wrong," Arbiter took over, his hand on my shoulder letting me know, "This place doesn't have guards. Those men are prisoners themselves."
And so we got talking. William told his side of the story; how he woke up in this place, saw inhuman creatures and a group of soldiers pointing guns at people.
"Nazis?" I stopped scribbling for a moment. "The Nazis are still around?"
"More than that-" He pursed his lips on the straw attached to a clear bag full of orange juice in Elizabeth's hand, sucking up the orange liquid. He gulped it down, "They ran the whole damn world."
"Really?" I sketched down a swastika with a question mark beside it.
He painted a picture of a world where the war was won by the Nazis; they used advanced technology and weapons to power their war machine, slaughtering hundreds and spreading their dominion to China, The US, Britain, Russia, Japan, Africa. They even managed to reach the moon.
And where they went, every horrific facet of their Reich came with them.
"Death camps were everywhere." He shifted in the bed, getting comfortable as discomforting memories flew by his face. "Good people were tortured," his breath got faster and deeper as he spoke, "added to mountains of bodies and reduced in furnaces. Fed to monsters…"
I followed his gaze after he left those words hanging, finding the Arbiter, a tall, hunch backed creature with a sharp toothed maw in his view.
He recounted waking up in the resurrection chamber. He had recently been in combat, a soldier, when he found himself in a prison-like room with soldiers pointing guns at people.
"I thought they were herding people." Elizabeth had grabbed a can of beans for William to eat.
"Pointing guns at people, sending them towards...monstrous looking creatures." His eyes wandered to Arbiter, "No offense."
"You were on the defense," Arbiter had found a stool for him to sit with them as they continued the interview, "The blame is not on you for wanting to protect others. I admire that."
She opened it with a can opener, releasing steam. Marcus had been heating it on an electric stove he found in the warehouse.
She readied a spoon, which William reached with his mouth. He maintained eye contact with Arbiter.
"Pardon my bluntness," He said with a mouth half full, "but you look fucking terryfying."
"Many people here share that view," Arbiter seemed to deflate at the comment, "Unfortunately."
Really, I thought, I get it. Razor sharp teeth and a monstrous figure would scare anyone. I leaned back in my seat.
But I've seen men set fire to women and children. A mouth divided into four doesn't even faze me.
"People are already starting to grow on you," Elizabeth interjected, stopping the spoon half way to William's open mouth, "Ever since you took charge."
It lasted only a second, but I caught it; a flash in William's eyes as he darted a look at Arbiter. Him being the leader surprised you? Or are you also taking notes?
I run questions through my head, but decide against saying them aloud. I don't want this to dip into an interrogation.
I leaned forward, "What happened before you took one of the soldiers hostage?"
"I reckon I was left unconscious in that…" He struggles to find the words, "...Place."
"That was my decision," Arbiter revealed, "I wanted to give you all a chance to calm down."
William's gaze was locked, "Shouldn't have knocked me out in the first place then."
Aw geez. Damage control, Cole!
"Easy there," I showed him the palm of my hands, pencil and notebook wedged between the fingers, "We're all in this together."
William wasn't giving it a rest; he could've drilled a hole into Arbiter with his stare, "Still haven't heard an explanation on what this is."
"No one knows," I let out a sigh as I said the words.
"So you keep telling me," The stone face came back in full force.
He was playing along, I realized. He hasn't believed a word I said.
I gave my notebook a tap with my pencil, and closed it.
"I think that's enough questioning for now," I said with a paper thin smile.
With that, we left the hospital. Elizabeth moved into another room, setting up shop in the second living area, close to her patients. Archibald's room was placed on the second floor, and was marked by the bed sheets keeping it shut.
Marcus was thinking about making a proper lock for it. Some sort of brace.
For a moment, I considered continuing my interview with him. But I had no doubt that that man was only gonna give me lies, seeing as how Elizabeth just told me that John Jordan is actually a William BJ Blazkowicz.
I groaned and crossed out the false name in my book as I tailed behind Arbiter, on our way back to our rooms. Will have to go over my notes before I catch some sleep. If I catch some sleep.
Damn. The hot dogs are burning. I reach my hand in- Gah!
Stupid. I couldn't stop my feet from smashing into it. Hot coals spill out, embers spraying up on my legs.
I stomp on it. 1. 2. 3. 4!
I stomp on it, dent after dent after dent after hole.
I stomp it into a pulp on the ground. A squeal stops me.
It's the girls. Anna. The look on their eyes, as she hides them away from me…
Something grabs my leg, squeezed.
I open my eyes to the searing pain.
Gah!
It's him. Orange. The leader.
He stared at me through the glowing blue T in his helmet, "Good, you're awake."
He released his grip on the splinted leg. The pain was still there, but nothing I couldn't hiss through my teeth.
He pulled up a chair. He undid his helmet, and dropped it on his lap.
"I remember you," His accent sounded Australian, "Coming after me and my men."
This man was too brown to be a Nazi. They were telling the truth, weren't they?
"I was told I was mistaken," No, damn. Didn't mean to say it like that.
His smile was forced, "You don't believe it?"
I see what he's doing. I smile in my head. He's doing what'd I do, when friendly fire happens, and you don't know if it was an accident. Make them squirm, see who they are.
No point in calling it out, "There's some holes I can't get my head around."
"Well, we got the time." He stands, drops his helmet on my lap.
"How about I give you a hand?" He picks up his chair, turns it around and brings it closer.
His face is just a foot from mine, "Help you get your head around this?"
Author's Note: It's been a while. When I started this chapter, I went back to rework the previous chapters, fixed some mistakes. Nothing too big of a change. Started practicing with short stories, and then I got sidetracked for a while and life got in the way.
Then I started a new method.
First, I'm not writing this story in order. I'm writing the skeletons of chapters far along the story, dialogue, events, character thoughts. Helps a lot with consistency, and makes it so I've always got something to write, which means the next chapter should just around the corner.
I'm not giving up on this story!