The guns had grown silent and the smoke was lifting; the heavy smell of death hung above the ground, slick with blood

Author's note: This is an Alternate Reality fic, so it isn't the same as the real C6 universe that you and I know of. It's also based on Frundock's own alternate reality fic, "Conflicts." It is also my first C6 fic, so please be nice. I got the idea after reading "Conflicts," and also a few other fanfics that are unrelated to Cybersix. So, I would advise you to read Frundock's fic first, because it's just good. Other good reads I would recommend is Ptah Aegyptus' "Paradise Falling." Although it is not based on this particular topic, it still uses good enough language to be compared with bestsellers like Clancy and Higgins.

More to come, if I can rack my brains hard enough.

P.S Cybersix belongs to TMS and NOA. This fic belongs to me. The pants I'm wearing also belong to me.

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Special thanks to Frundock, for the idea.

And also to Apocalypse Watcher, because that's where Frundock got the idea.

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The guns had long grown silent and the lifeless, gray smoke was already lifting; yet the heavy smell of death still hung over the bloodied ground. Disengaging herself from the ungainly tangle of maimed corpses, Cybersix could see victorious German soldiers, clad in their dark gray uniforms and helmets, emerge from the haze like ghosts.

The Fixed Ideas, with their curious obsession for bright shiny objects, began immediately to loot the bodies of the fallen. Her fellow Cybers, however, lingered around the battlefield, picking off survivors like a pack of bloodthirsty vultures.

Although Cybers were the obvious preference of most commanders, being more agile and presenting less of a target to an enemy than a hulking, monstrous Fixed Idea, the latter were still used as cheap cannon fodder as they were more readily available in large numbers. With the onset of genetically modified troops, the current Wermacht tactic was to hurl as many FIs and Cybers as possible at the opposing force, a far cry from the brilliantly executed blitzkriegs of only sixty years before.

She was tired; more tired than she had ever felt during her youth or even during her training. She stared at her bloodied hands, wondering how many men she had killed, who they were, what they left behind. However, she was sure of one thing, that she had no quarrel with these Americans, that she had done this because of the Füher's orders to create lebensraum in the country of her country's biggest rival. Maybe, she reasoned, if we had met in some other place at some other time, we could have been friends.

Unlike the other mindless drones that surrounded her, she did not believe the propaganda, or the inspiring speeches of her superiors, asking her and her peers to lay down their lives for the Fatherland. Like any other Cyber, she was the product of countless political lessons, yet she refused to let her instructors instill any "Aryan" spirit into her. As a result, she had been dubbed as a "hard case" and "idealistic" by the Nazi officialdom, and shunned to various backwater posts.  

These were strong heady, days. German victory during the Second World War had left it virtually invincible, from the Rhine to the Urals. Yet, however, Hitler had not been satisfied. In 1964, he ordered the invasion of South America, his excuse to the international community being that he wanted to liberate it from corrupting "communist influences." However, the Allied Forces (Britain, a newly-liberated France, Canada, Australia, what was left of the Soviet Union and the United States) had opposed the move, the United States being the biggest voice against the Third Reich. Finally, in 1999, Von Richter, who had superseded Henrich Himmler as the new leader of Nazi Germany, decided to invade America, turning it into Germany's first (and largest) overseas colony. Cybersix remembered the day vividly; it was her first day out of the Academy. Quickly fast-forwarded through the ranks, she had made Fledwebel by the time the invasion began.

Running her hand through her short hair, her abnormally acute sight caught a glimpse of sudden movement. Whirling around, she saw an American G.I, his uniform tattered, his appearance haggard.

 

A moment passed, in which the two of them registered each other with shock and surprise. There was no time to think, only react. The G.I began to raise his rifle into firing position, but he didn't quite make it. Cybersix lashed out with her foot, hitting the man squarely on the chest, crushing his heart between his flak jacket and his breastbone.

By reflex, the dead soldier's finger tightened on his trigger, causing ten rounds to be fired on full automatic into the air. The noise was sufficiently loud to startle some of Cybersix's fellow soldiers. When they saw whom she had killed however, they went all happy and went running over to his body to taking his watch, his boots and all his other "American" stuff.

Who are you?  Wondered Cybersix as the body was emptied rather unceremoniously by a rather large Fixed Idea amid loud grunts of delight. Retrieving his dog tags, she discovered that she had just killed a Corporal Adrian Sheppard, United States Marine Corps. Who were you? She continued to wonder. Digging deeper into his pockets yielded a piece of V-mail, stiff and folded and still spotless. Having taken English lessons at the Academy, she was able to comprehend the contents of the letter:

Dear Edith,

My heart aches for you. It has been indescribably bad. Our armies have seen nothing but the defeat at the hands of the Nazis.

My best friend John Colton fell at the Mexican border yesterday. My friend John who was laughing and telling me jokes hours before; my friend John who loaned me money when I started up the hardware store; my friend John who was with me when I first met you; my friend John who admired pretty girls with me at high school. His death has been difficult to bear.

How I long to hold you in my arms once more, and look into your beautiful eyes. How I long at night to be able to see our two children again.

Pray not only for me, Edith, but also for all the Americans who have laid their lives on the altar of freedom. I may never come home again. I hope that this letter will reach you someday; carried from this place and put into your hands by someone who has the kindness and understanding any human being should have, by someone, anyone, who finds this letter and is -  

Cybersix's head came up abruptly as she heard the sound of motors in the distance. Hours had seemed to past while she had been reading. The military police had arrived, and the looting would soon be stopped by force.

Not knowing what else to do, she pocketed the now bloodied letter, crouching as she disappeared swiftly into the enveloping dust.

As the sound of motors droned closer, rain began to fall over the battlefield. Raindrops ran down the young lover's face, and down his sightless eyes like tears.

The End