CHAPTER 62: INGLORIOUS BASTARDS, PART 6
1:56
There is a threat of a race war hanging over Hellwood with many lives at risk, and those lives hang on the one life of a baby boy named Charles Ronaldson.
The Green Eye and his Hillwood Heroes are the only ones standing in the way of that war, with only a few hours on the clock to see it prevented. With little allies left on his side and many enemies to face, the odds of success are all against him, and the pressure of it all builds up in his mind.
Not wishing for meaningless violence or any deaths on his conscience, he needs a plan to see those parameters met while still achieving their goal efficiently with the safety of the baby Charles in mind. Having a hostage to rescue in a building 14 stories tall, and enemies to face both outside and inside, the task is nowhere easy for him to accomplish, even with his teammates at his side.
Despite having the questionable status as an ally to the Green Eye, the individual of Lars Rodriguez has volunteered himself in a plan to see that they can get in without unnecessary conflict or deaths. Using the little but solid credit he had with Wolfenstein, he offered to provide a distraction to the white warlord, giving the rest of the team time and cover to sneak inside.
Briefly going over the plan, the group came to an agreement, allowing Lars to follow through with the plan.
"So, you should be able to buy us a few minutes." Star of David said.
"That'll be enough time. We just have to get inside. So long as nothing happens outside the building, any guards inside shouldn't suspect anything's wrong, and we should sneak right past them." Green Eye said.
"Or blow right through them before they see what's coming."
"Only if it's absolutely necessary."
"Hey, man, you guys do what you gotta do. I'm the one taking all the risks here; I'm dealing with the Nazi bastard myself." Lars said.
Before departing on his mission, Lars shared a small vial of cocaine to Bad Boy, giving him a stimulant needed for his own fight.
"White Boy, take this. Before you get yourself in a fight, snort this shit. You'll be ready as a motherfucker." Lars said.
"Yeah, okay, sure." Bad Boy mumbled.
"Wait, you're giving him cocaine?" Green Eye asked.
"What? Dude's bugged out of his mind already. He'll need this to be at least partially functional. You need all the help you can get, and you kept me around to keep him running, right?"
Unable to afford any argument against Lars, the Green Eye brushed past the topic, continuing on the mission as planned.
"Fine. Just keep Wolfgang talking as long as you can." Green Eye said.
"Don't worry, jefe, I can do that. Besides, I bet those guys up there are bored out of their minds, they could probably use some friendly conversation." Lars said.
Not too far away from the Hillwood Heroes, their primary enemy in this mission and leader of the Aryan Nation himself, Wolfenstein, passed the time with his fellow lieutenants and guards. With their choice of base being in the heart of the Aryan Nation, and having plenty of guards inside and outside the towering Toran Apartments, the goal of hiding out their hostage seemed all too easy to accomplish.
Having little else to do but wait of news of retaliation from New Mecca, Wolfenstein passed the time with a game of poker with his guards; their game played with cards themed after the Lincoln Loud incarnation of Ace Savvy. Having a winning hand on his deck, Wolfenstein kept his poker face strong on the American flag tattooed upon it, turning to a smile as he revealed his cards.
"Royal flush. Read it and weep, boys." Wolfenstein said.
Looking down on his deck to show the winning hand, the guards all threw their own cards on the table in anger, all losing the game.
"Aw, fuck me!" One guard said.
"Son of a bitch!" Another guard said.
"Goddammit!" A different guard said.
"That's right, boys. That's why I'm the leader of the pack." Wolfenstein said.
Putting her arms around her leader in admiration of his success, She-Wolf giggled as she listened to Wolfenstein affirm his leadership.
"Indeed, herr Wolfenstein. If the führer were still alive today, you would make him very proud. You've led us to victory and shown the world that we are the master race once again." She-Wolf said.
"That I have, Sophie. That I have. Just doing my duty as a white man." Wolfenstein said.
Feeling She-Wolf's playful hold on his body, Wolfenstein began feeling natural urges start to rise from his body, holding onto one of her hands as she continued her play. However, underneath that urge was another natural calling, this one arising from his stomach, the area above the origin of the first urge, and superseding any sort of interest he held in it.
"HEY! I'm hungry, where the fuck's our chicken?!" Wolfenstein called.
"Coming, sir. Just a moment." One guard said.
Escorting a group of slaves towards the poker table, the guard brought forth said slaves carrying a large plate of fried chicken, setting it down atop the completed card game. Wolfenstein and his confederates all took pieces for themselves, but the slaves who cooked the food did not, forced to watch as their captors and masters consumed the food they worked hard to create.
Chowing down on the fried chicken, tearing meat and skin off from bones, the Aryans showcased a carnivorous nature, appropriate for followers of a leader taking the name of 'wolf'. The slaves, conversely, served little more than cattle to Wolfenstein and his subordinates; starved and emancipated with their skin showing the entireties of their skeletons from lack of nutrition.
"Mmm... Mmm-mmm-mmm, that is some damn good chicken." Wolfenstein said.
"You said it, Wolfie. Niggers might be the scum of the Earth, but goddamn if they can't make some good chicken, huh? It's even better than my momma made." One guard said.
Raising an eyebrow to the guard's comment, Wolfenstein paused in his meal, deciding to press on his subordinate's statement to make a point.
"Better than a white could make, huh?" Wolfenstein asked.
"Well, you know, niggers do nothing but eat chicken all day, seems only right that they would know how to make it good." The guard said.
"But you think they can do it better than whites? You think that they're better than us?"
The rest of the guards showed some concern at Wolfenstein's wording, believing that this conversation would not turn out well for the commenting guard.
"Uh... No, no, Wolife, I just... I just really like the chicken, that's all. Like... If you only did one thing for a whole part of your life, only knew that one thing, then you'd know damn well how to make it good, right? Niggers are all lazy and just eat fried chicken all day, so, tasting all that fried chicken, they'd know best on how to make it taste good. That's all I'm saying." The guard said.
Seeming to agree with the guard, Wolfenstein nodded along to his argument, scratching at his chin as he did so.
"No, I see now. You're right, it does seem fair that they would know more about us in this category. After all, they're probably better at us whites in other categories, too; playing the victim, lying and cheating, sucking up welfare, all things a self-respecting white man wouldn't do. But this is just fried chicken we're talking about. I suppose we can give them some credit on this one little topic, right? In fact, why don't we do that right now? Say, which one of you niggers made this here fried chicken for us to enjoy?" Wolfenstein asked.
Wolfenstein's address to the slaves went nowhere with the captives, all looking to one another and staying silent out of fear for their lives.
"C'mon, don't be shy. Here, tell you what..." Wolfenstein began to say.
Taking a piece of chicken out from the plate, he began waving it in front of the slaves, tempting them into cooperating with his request.
"For whoever one of you confesses to making this here delicious fried chicken, you get to taste some of the fruits of your labor themselves. I'll give you a whole piece all to yourself. You all look real hungry after all those long days of work we put you through. I know it's been a long period of trying to get your kind evolved back to the slave days, so I think you deserve a little treat for your efforts. Who's the lucky one?" Wolfenstein asked.
Hearing his tirade taunt their poor work conditions, their hunger being strengthened with his provocations, there eventually arose words from the slaves. One of them had raised their voice to claim creatorship over the chicken, but another one had subsequently done the same.
"I made it." One slave said.
"N-No, no! I made it!" Another slave said.
"Bullshit, you didn't. You were just standing there while I did all the work."
"We were all doing work! I just managed to get it all mixed just right for them!"
"Liar!"
Desperate over the chance to get their piece of meat, the two slaves began fighting one another, one toppling the other of the two to see his defeat and claim the promised piece of chicken. Once before, these two would be considered friends or even brothers, but, for the sake of receiving a scrap of food, they were more than willing to turn their backs on it all for the sake of survival.
Shooting his pistol into the air, Wolfenstein silenced the two fighting slaves, gaining their attention once again.
"Now, I'm gonna count to 3. If the one of you who didn't make the chicken doesn't step back before I reach '3', I'll kill you both. 1... 2..." Wolfenstein counted.
"Okay! Okay, I lied. I didn't make it." The first slave said.
Stepping back with the others, the first slave surrendered, allowing the other to claim ownership over the chicken and victory for his piece. Setting his handgun back into its holster, Wolfenstein smiled at the confessing slave, gaining the rightful cook of the food at last.
"That's better. So, now we get the real nigger who made this very delicious chicken. What's your name, boy?" Wolfenstein asked.
"Andre, sir." The slave replied.
"Oh! Will you look at that? Not only does this nigger have some good cooking skills, but he's also got some manners, see that? He actually called me 'sir'. That's definitely a step up from the rest. No signs of Drapetomania or any smart-mouth to him, just a polite little house nigger. Well, I think you deserve a little round of applause for that, don't you? C'mon, clap for our well-mannered nigger, c'mon!"
The guards watching the spectacle carefully and cautiously clapped their hands, none fully understanding what Wolfenstein was trying to achieve.
"For someone so well-mannered and polite as you, you most certainly deserve this little treat then, don't you? Well, come on and get it, boy. It's all yours." Wolfenstein said.
The slave named Andre began walking towards Wolfenstein, reaching out to retrieve his prize of the piece of fried chicken. Hungry beyond belief from the strenuous hours of work, the promise for some food, even one small scrap of food to eat, was all the focus he could give his attention on at this moment in time.
Just before he could get his hands around his promised chicken, however, Wolfenstein quickly snatched it away, biting down on it and eating all the meat off of it himself, leaving nothing but a bone behind. After chewing down and swallowing the meat, he delivered the next portion of his speech.
"Whoops. You forgot to give the master his due. See, we do provide you with goods and commodities. We give you things to eat. We give you places to sleep. We give you purpose to your little nigger lives, lives that deserve to be snuffed out off this Earth entirely. You should be all on your knees every day thanking us for not killing you all just for fun. We actually give you a life. But that life runs on one simple rule: Whatever we make, we keep. Whatever you make, we keep. Still, I am a merciful man. You can still have your little treat." Wolfgang said.
Wolfgang threw the bone to the ground at the slave's feet, putting it into the dirt and ruining what was left upon it. Looking down at the bone, and looking back up at Wolfenstein, Andre's strong interest on the bone quickly died down to nothing; having no interest in spoiled food.
Wolfenstein, on the other hand, did not take kindly to this, pulling out his handgun and pointing it at Andre.
"Hey! I gave you a treat, nigger! That's a rare commodity for a nigger like yourself. So, whenever I give you a treat, I expect you to eat it, and I expect you to be thankful for it!" Wolfenstein said.
Slowly reaching down to pick the bone back up, Andre slowly put it in his mouth, hesitating before making his bite. Pressing his teeth down against the bone, he crunched into it, chewing on the calcium and feeling it pierce at his mouth. The dirt accumulated from the ground also felt its way around; grinding against his teeth and filling his mouth with a dry, earthy taste.
Seeing his slave become humiliated under his duress, Wolfenstein gave a smile, taking joy in seeing him put under such abuse.
"That's good. Now, isn't there one more thing you forgot to say? Something to show some thankfulness?" Wolfenstein asked.
Swallowing down a bite of broken bird bone and dirt, Andre faked a smile to his master, trying to show thankfulness for his 'treat'.
"Thank you, sir." Andre said.
"That's right. Good boy." Wolfenstein said.
Pointing his gun to Andre's face, Wolfenstein pulled the trigger, ending the life of the slave regardless of his apparent show of appreciation. Not expecting him to kill the slave after all the long speeches that he had shared with him, the guards looked to him in confusion and fear, not sure of what he would do next.
Finding the answer to that question, Wolfenstein stood up from his chair, addressing them all with his final point.
"Let's make something clear. We are the master race. That means we're not supposed to be bettered by anyone else, especially not subhuman creatures like niggers. If there was even one nigger, one spic, one gook or whatever else that bettered us in anything at all, then it's our duty to snuff him out. We'll make ourselves the best the old-fashioned way: By taking out the competition." Wolfenstein said.
Approaching the guard that originally made the comment that led to this scenario, Wolfenstein put himself face-to-face with him, making sure his point was personal.
"You got that? Don't you ever try to claim that a nigger's better than us. Go it?" Wolfenstein asked.
"Uh... Yeah, Wolife, I know that, but... I just meant that the recipe for the chicken was really good. I was thinking we should've gotten it from him before we killed him, that's all." The guard said.
Seeing the misunderstanding of his subordinate's comment, Wolfenstein felt a sliver of embarrassment come over him, having made his speech for nothing.
"Oh. Yeah, I guess I should've. Oh, well." Wolfenstein said.
As a moment of awkward silence settled into the group, one guard took notice of a figure approaching them, coming soon into view as a Hispanic man. Taking his rifle in hand, the guard quickly rushed towards him, with the rest of the group grabbing their own weapons and holding them on the intruder.
The Hispanic man came into view as the one and only Lars Rodriguez, but none of the guards recognized him, only knowing they were staring down a man of a lesser race, which was more than enough to keep their weapons on him. Sarcastically raising his hands to the guards, Lars gave a chuckle.
"Hey, fellas, take it easy. I just wanted directions to the nearest Good Burger." Lars said.
"Don't move, you fuckin' spic! How the hell did you get here?!" One guard shouted.
Stepping towards the affair and raised guns, Wolfenstein approached the scene, seeing towards the situation himself.
"Hey, hey, what's going on over here?" Wolfenstein asked.
"A spic wandered his way over here somehow. No way he can pass for white, so I don't know how he made it past our borders." One guard said.
Leaning in to inspect the intruder, Wolfenstein recognized him in an instant; his initial look of frustration turning to joy.
"Hey-hey-hey! Look who it is! It's my favorite spic, El Cucuy! How you doin', man?" Wolfenstein asked.
"Greetings, my Aryan friend, doing just fine, how about you?" Lars asked.
Meeting their hands in a locking grip with their robotic arms, Lars and Wolfenstein shared a friendly handshake, both laughing as they came in for a hug. Not expecting to see their fanatical leader so joyfully greet someone supposedly of an inferior race, the guards continued to hold their weapons in skepticism, not sure how to process this strange sight.
"Uh... Wolfie? Boss? What the hell are you doing with the spic?" One guard asked.
"Oh, no, no, everyone, lower your weapons. This ain't no ordinary spic. This here is El Cucuy. He saved my ass during the Fall, and helped turn this place to Hellwood so we can have our own little nation. He's cool, he's a friend." Wolfenstein said.
Still skeptical of the brown-skinned man being welcomed into their racist posse, the guards slowly lowered their weapons, obeying the order of their leader. Keeping Lars by his side, Wolfenstein happily escorted him back to his table, ensuring that he was under friendly conditions.
"So, what brings you to my neck of the woods, El Cucuy?" Wolfenstein asked.
"Uh, it's just 'Lars' now, if you don't mind. That whole 'El Cucuy' thing just wasn't catching on." Lars said.
"Fair enough. Still, what brings you to me? Probably a long ways just to find little old me, right?"
Darting his eye to the side, Lars stole a quick view of Toran Apartments, in search of the Green Eye and Hillwood Heroes during their approach to the building. Just as planned, the Heroes continued sneaking their way around the guards, with Lars keeping them occupied as intended.
Putting his attention back to Wolfenstein, Lars kept up their conversation, ensuring that his purpose would be still fulfilled.
"Well, Wolfie, I seem to remember you promising me some good pussy in return for me saving your life back there. I know I was kinda rude by turning down that little girl, but I was curious if I could still take you up on that offer." Lars said.
"Why, yes, you can. Anything for the man who made this whole nation possible. Anything you had in mind?" Wolfenstein asked.
"I was thinking something in a nice white color and make with a few miles on it, you know what I mean?"
"An older woman? I didn't take you for someone into older women."
"Oh, don't get me wrong, I love young pussy as much as the next guy, even more so. But I also love me a good, fat steak every now and then, but even I gotta get some cheap and greasy pizza every now and then, you know? I get too much of a good thing, I start to get sick."
"Variety is the spice of life. I gotcha. Well, you're in luck. I had some whores brought in for our one and only Ape to keep him happy, but I don't think he'll mind if you borrowed one of his toys for awhile."
"Uh... Who's 'Ape'?"
"Oh, right. We haven't properly introduced you. Allow me to do so."
Taking Lars over to the aforementioned Ape, Wolfenstein introduced his guest to the overgrown man of muscle, putting his two acquaintances to meet one another. Aware of Ape's height and size already, Lars was not prepared for seeing him up close; his towering build overshadowing his thin shape.
Feeling Ape sneer at him with an angry snort, Lars gulped at the look he was given, trying to compose himself.
"Uh... So... This must be Ape." Lars said.
"Yes, sir. Ain't he a beaut?" Wolfenstein asked.
"Well, uh... Yeah, he's a specimen, alright. But... he's black. I thought you-"
"Oh, no, no, that's the beauty of it. We tried experimenting around, trying to make some kind of super-nigger-soldier, jacking 'em up with steroids and other shit, and that gave us Ape here. He's a hell of an asset. Ape! Say hi to Lars."
Leaning in and sniffing Lars, Ape once again felt discontent with the guest, growling at him with the intent to attack.
"You know, pal, a little, uh... primatene might help out with that growl you got there." Lars said.
"Lars spic. Ape kill spics." Ape said.
Nervous under the threat addressed to him, Lars gulped in fear, whimpering slightly under the monster's words.
"No, no! Lars good spic. Lars very good spic. Lars Wolfie's friend. Lars Ape's friend, too." Wolfenstein said.
"Ape no friends with spics."
Stepping away from Lars, Ape sought to be alone, disliking the guest brought to the group. Dismissing Ape's disapproval, Wolfenstein continued on with Lars' greetings.
"Eh, he'll come around. You know how niggers can be, am I right?" Wolfenstein asked.
"Yeah, yeah, I gotcha." Lars said.
"So, anyway, you're looking for some mature white pussy, am I right?"
"Yeah, yeah. It doesn't have to be anything too old, mind you, just somebody with a little more experience under their belt..."
Lars' sentence trailed upon laying eye on She-Wolf, carefully eyeing up her body pressed against her brown shirt and skirt revealing a long pair of legs. Gaining just a peek at the undergarments under the skirt, Lars took interest in the young woman, believing himself to have found something of his interest after all.
Giving a devilish smile towards Lars Rodriguez, She-Wolf found him returning a smile of his own; both having their own mischievous plans for one another.
"Ooh-la-la... Who is the beautiful white wolf you got for yourself there? Your girlfriend, I assume? Don't suppose you'd let me give her a try?" Lars asked.
"Sophie? Not in a million years, spic. You're right that she's my girlfriend. I don't like to share. Besides, I'm a man of very... 'specific' tastes myself, some that I doubt you'd be into. You wouldn't last a few minutes with her." Wolfenstein said.
"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure about that. I can handle a lot."
"I bet you could, but you still can't have her."
"Hold on, now, Wolfie. I think the spic might be onto something. He does look like he'd be fun to try. I'd like to see how he looks with me dominating over him, like a white woman is meant to do over a little spic like him, and see how he looks with a lashed and red bottom." She-Wolf said.
"Hmm... Well, when you put it that way, I suppose you're right, babe."
"Whoa, slow down there! You guys gotta wine-and-dine me before some shit like that. I'm not ruling anything out, mind you, but even I gotta be prepared for something like that." Lars said.
1:42
As Lars continued on his part of the plan to keep Wolfenstein and the guards distracted, the Green Eye, Star of David, and Bad Boy carried on their half of the plan, working their way up to the apartment complex to make their way inside. Keeping their footsteps light, ensuring that they would not be detected by the slightest noise.
Slowly making their way up to the building, the Hillwood Heroes neared their destination, just mere feet away from reaching the front door. Needing to keep a slow pace towards that goal, however, the short distance felt all the longer with their silent approach, making that final destination further away.
"How much longer do you think we have?" Star of David whispered.
"I don't know. It looks like Lars is keeping them occupied well enough." Green Eye said.
"But for how much longer?"
"I don't know, but we shouldn't waste the time we have talking. Let's keep moving."
The conversation and time spent between Lars and Wolfenstein continued to go along friendly and swimmingly, as if the two were friends longer than one another could remember. Enjoying the time spent with his supposed friend, the prejudice he saw for Hispanics seemed to die down with Lars; seeing past his skin tone to share a friendship with him.
Though Wolfenstein was more open-minded in this department, the remainder of the guards did not share that feeling towards Lars. The majority of the guards chose to remain silent, none wishing to speak against their leader, but one found the strength to speak up against Wolfenstein.
"What the hell's going on here, Wolfie?" One guard asked.
Raising an eyebrow to the guard from his choice of tone, Wolfenstein replied to the question in a similar tone.
"Excuse me?" Wolfenstein asked.
"You're getting way too friendly with this spic. You're not starting to turn race traitor on us, are you?" The defiant guard asked.
The accusation struck a chord to the other guards; once they stayed silent in their dissent, but the outspokenness of the defiant guard drove the others to stare down Wolfenstein accusingly to hear the answer. With his mind racing to find an answer to give to the guards to excuse himself, Wolfenstein quickly espoused an answer.
"What? No! I told you, this spic here saved my life. He's also a good asset to keep around." Wolfenstein said.
"But he's still a spic." The defiant guard said.
"So? Ape's a nigger, but I don't see you complaining about him."
"Ape's expendable. We put him on the front lines to be shot at, and we give him the treatment a subhuman like him deserves. You're treating this spic like a white man, all friendly like."
Back near the doors of Toran Apartments...
Pulling out his capsule of cocaine, Bad Boy poured the contents onto the edge of his hand, preparing to inhale the drug and prepare himself for battle. Putting his hand to his nose and giving in a sharp, loud inhale, the powder went straight through to his brain, giving him an instant jolt of energy.
Hearing the loud inhale left by his consumption of the cocaine, the Green Eye and Star of David turned to Bad Boy, shushing him from making any further noise.
"Sid, what are you doing?! You're gonna get us caught!" Star of David said.
"Lars said to snort this before we went inside so I could fight. We're almost inside. You guys want some, too?" Bad Boy asked.
Shaking their heads at Bad Boy's nonchalant offer, the Hillwood Heroes moved on to continue their way to the door.
Back with the guards...
Trying to find a decent counterargument against the defiant guard's point, Wolfenstein's mind scrambled to say anything to defend his position, hoping to conceive a good argument to silence the dissent from the guards. The instant that a good argument came to his mind, it soon left to his mouth to speak it out.
"Well, if any one spic deserves that treatment, it's this one. He saved my life during the Fall, and the Aryan Nation would not exist without him." Wolfenstein said.
"So then how does that fit into the speech you gave us regarding how niggers, spics, gooks, and all shouldn't be better than us at anything? If the whole existence of our nation is because of a spic, then is it worth existing at all?" The defiant guard asked.
"The ends justify the means. The goal is to wipe out every untermensch on this Earth and establish ourselves, the white man, as the rightful owners of the Earth. Why waste certain individuals when we can put them to use? We've got the nigger slaves that we used to make us a delicious dinner; if we didn't have them, we'd have to just do it on our own. Might as well use them while we've got them."
"Then why do you have this spic hanging with us when he could be put to better use out killing more untermensch? What's his purpose here?"
"His purpose here is to make some good conversation for me, that's what. Spic or not, he's far more amusing than all of you."
"I don't know, sounds like you're starting to lose it. How can you expect us to be led into the new order if you can't even treat a spic for what he is?"
Back near the doors of Toran Apartments...
Feeling the cocaine start to twinge and tickle at his nose, Bad Boy began sniffling under the tickle that his nostrils began to feel, rubbing against his nose to try to satiate the feeling. Unfortunately, his own small efforts to relieve himself did not work; instead leading to more tickling on the inside of his nose.
A buildup in the back of his nose began to follow, with a large release soon to come after in the form of a sneeze. Recognizing the noise as a sneeze, and understanding the implications of the noise, the Hillwood Heroes began to panic, trying to urge their teammate to hold his sneeze in.
"No, Sid, no! Don't!" Green Eye pleaded.
"C'mon, man, hold it in! You can do it!" Star of David whispered.
"I can't help it... I feel it coming... It's happening... It's gonna happen... Ah... Ah... AH... AH...!" Bad Boy sniffled.
Back with the guards...
Beginning to notice the tide start to turn against him in the debate, Wolfenstein grew aggressive in his defense; no longer trying to reason with his subordinates, but instead show his authority by force. Raising his voice and stepping directly in the face of the defiant guard, he pushed his authority to its limit.
"HEY! Don't you fuckin' talk to me like that! In the original reich, it was the führer's privilege and discretion to choose who was an honorary Aryan and who wasn't. That's how the Japs got to fight with us. I'm the new führer now, I decide who lives and dies in our country, and if I decide that Lars here is an honorary Aryan, then he is!" Wolfenstein shouted.
Taking out his handgun, the defiant guard pointed it to Wolfenstein. Quickly grabbing hold of his own as soon as he saw the guard reach for his gun, Wolfenstein reached for his own, pointing it back at the defiant guard, having each enemy put their weapons to each other's faces.
The rest of the guards joined into this stand-off, each grabbing their weapons and pointing them straight at Wolfenstein. Still showing her own loyalty to Wolfenstein, She-Wolf grabbed her submachine gun and pointed it at the revolting guards, gaining sexual excitement from the promise of a gunfight.
Lars, having no idea how to react to this situation, kept his hands raised into the air, hoping he would come out for the better.
"So, that's how it is, huh? You're all turning traitor on me now? After all we've accomplished so far? How close we are to achieving a great race war?" Wolfenstein asked.
"No. You're the traitor. We're going to go on and achieve great things without you or your spic." The defiant guard said.
"No, you won't! I'll be the one to do it! Without all of you! I AM THE SUPERIOR ONE! I AM WOLFENSTEIN! I AM THE MASTER RACE! I-!"
The two enemies squeezed the triggers of their handguns, preparing to fire upon each other.
Back near the doors of Toran Apartments...
Unable to hold his sneeze in any longer, Bad Boy finally let it out, giving a loud and sharp release to his long buildup.
"AH-CHOO!" Bad Boy sneezed.
The sound of the sneeze was as loud as could be, but it only was heard softly by Wolfenstein and the guards in front of Toran Apartments. Nonetheless, it instantly caught the attention of all, turning their focus away from one another, and instantly putting more pressing matters on their minds than each other.
Recognizing the intruders at the door as the Hillwood Heroes, Wolfenstein instantly realized the meaning of Lars' presence, turing on him in the same instant.
"...got fucked by a goddamn spic! Kill him!" Wolfenstein shouted.
"Kill the Heroes! They're going after our hostage!" The defiant guard shouted.
The two once-opposing groups acted as one once again; both taking different fronts to the same goal of attacking and fending off the invaders that sought to foil their plans for a race war. Each side took their weapons and pointed them at their chosen enemies, preparing to fire.
Having no other choice to defend himself or keep up the mission, Lars changed his robotic arm to its machine-gun form, firing back before they could attack him.
"EAT SHIT, YOU NAZI MOTHERFUCKERS!" Lars shouted.
Gunning down the armed guards, preventing most shots from making their way towards the Hillwood Heroes, Lars managed to reduce the enemy numbers, but not before some had fired off shots towards the Hillwood Heroes. Putting himself in front of his teammates, the Star of David covered them with his shield; the metal disk blocking the shots with the symbol of his namesake on the front.
"Arnold, get inside! We'll handle things here!" Star of David said.
"But, Harold, you-" Green Eye tried to say.
"GO! NOW!"
Taking his teammate's cue, the Green Eye rushed inside the front door of Toran Apartments, making his way to the objective within.
Wolfenstein, having enemies on both his fronts and only his allies of She-Wolf and Ape by his side, had little to his name in numbers and less in the way of options, cowering behind a piece of cover from Lars' gunfire. Coordinating his last remaining soldiers in the fight, he gave out commands to each, thinking of the best way to hold the attacks back.
"Listen up! We can't let the Heroes walk out of here with our leverage! Ape! Kill Lars! Make him die painfully!" Wolfenstein said.
"Wolfie said Lars good spic." Ape said.
"Wolfie was wrong! Lars very bad spic! Ape gets to kill bad spic!"
Smiling at the opportunity to kill the enemy, Ape snorted happily at the chance, chuckling under his monstrous voice.
"Ape kill spic real bad. Ape make spic into little spic pieces." Ape said.
"Good boy! Go get him!" Wolfenstein said.
Sending Ape away to his objective, Wolfenstein turned his tactics to She-Wolf, sharing his strategy to handle the remaining Hillwood Heroes.
"She-Wolf! You and I get to take care of those two at the door! You take the crackhead, I get the kike!" Wolfenstein said.
"Why do you get the kike? I haven't gotten to kill a single Jew yet." She-Wolf said.
"This Jew and me go a long ways back. What I have with him is personal. Besides, that crackhead's a kike-loving race traitor, you should have some fun with him."
"And the Green Eye?"
"Nippon'll take care of him."
Agreeing onto Wolfenstein's strategy, She-Wolf joined him from leaving their cover, beginning to make their way towards their enemies. The Hillwood Heroes of the Star of David and Bad Boy, needing to hold back the duo from stopping the Green Eye, readied themselves for the fight as well.
With the Star of David gripping his shield tight and Bad Boy holding his pistols in hand, the latter shaking his tongue all around, the two readied their weapons for battle.
"Alright, you fuckin' fucks! I'm ready to get my fuck the fuck on, you fucks!" Bad Boy shouted.
"Sid, just shut up and get ready to fight." Star of David said.
Beginning to walk separate from each other, the Star of David and Bad Boy began luring their opponents to separate battlefields, ensuring one would not get in the way of the other. The two Wolves seemed to catch onto their strategy and followed along, wishing for more personal battlefields with each enemy.
Between Bad Boy and She-Wolf, both displayed a high enthusiasm for the fight to come, with Bad Boy's excitement coming under the influence of basuco, and She-Wolf's under the sexual arousal from blood and violence. Where Bad Boy's enthusiasm came from a mere drug, She-Wolf's came from a natural urge that existed within her, making her worthy of taking the name of 'wolf'.
"Are you ready to die, race traitor?" She-Wolf asked.
"I was ready to die after the bomb hit. I'm more than ready for you, you Nazi bitch!" Bad Boy shouted.
Between the Star of David and Wolfenstein, the two seemed to keep a facade of honor between one another, as if both were welcoming and expecting this fight. In between both parties sharing a violent history with one another since childhood, and both of their ideologies being mortal enemies for nearly a century, it seemed this was a grudge match more than earned between the two.
"You know, it's funny. I see you almost as an equal, but there's no reason for me to. You're a Jew, you were held back in school at least 2 years, and you were in with 'Big' Gino longer than I was. But I still feel like you and I are on a similar level. You were always here since the beginning, always part of the crowd, always seeming to be in every one of this city's most important events. It'll be an honor to fight you." Wolfenstein said.
Gripping his shield tighter in his hand, the Star of David gave Wolfenstein a scowl as he gave his reply.
"There's no honor in what I'm going to do to you." Star of David said.
Lastly, as the two previous fights seemed to be more epic in scale, with evenly-matched opponents, there was one final pairing in this outside battle that was not so closely matched. Stepping up to Lars Rodriguez was the chemically-altered soldier Ape, growling at the enemy as he prepared to finish him.
Pointing his machine-gun arm to Ape, Lars fired off a barrage of bullets into his enemy, only to see that none of his rounds made any killing effect, or any sort of effect at all, upon Ape; the bullet wounds simply seeping blood without the target noticing. Continuing to growl under the attack, Ape leaned down towards Lars, scowling at him with a pair of bloodshot eyes.
Realizing the terrible mistake he had made, Lars' pants suddenly became significantly more wetter.
"Uh... Is it too late to be friends?" Lars asked.
Giving an angry yell towards Lars Rodriguez, Ape sent long streaks of saliva flying towards him, as well as an offensive-smelling breath.
"Oh, god, your breath smells like ass! What the fuck do you brush your teeth with, giraffe jizz?!" Lars shouted.