Returning too the grave II

The flight that Fluer was in could sum up towards past experience. Fly there, drop off or wait until the job was done. But this little job was vastly different from her past work. Jürgen, the man that is an enigma. A puzzle... no a complicated jigsaw puzzle her sister was so tightly winded up on. Oh how she loathed herself for being in this position. She told Ivory too stay away from him for her own safety and giving her a cense of ease. But no. Like the curious cat she is, she visited him time and time again, with him only brushing her off. She took the chance to glance towards her co-pilot. "How far are we, from our objective?." She took a quick look before watching the coming horizon. "Just another hour."

A frustrating sigh was his answer. ("Hell hounds that roam the earth freely. Now the carriers of death are claiming fucking skies.") a horse laugh escaped his lips. ("This is truly Hell on earth. And the so-called people hide behind a thin veil blanket that is a wall. And there protectors are Huntsman and women.") with a disheartening smile he shook his head. "Is this what humanity has truly come too?. Fearing the outside world just because of some hellish creatures." Speaking in English. He shook his head in disappointment.

Fluer shook her head in exasperation. For the last hour she had him talking about the treaty of Versailles. And then she indulged him to a simplified history about the Grimm. "Well mister protection squad. What would you're 'glorious' Fuhrer. Will do in our situation." A spike of anger flared when she sarcastically asked and mocked glorious.

She was smiling at him as he was scowling in her direction. "You should be wise, not too mock my Fuhrer so. Blatantly in front of me." She looked ahead hiding the fear that is clawing at her. "I've made my vows too him, as all Schutzstaffel personal should. Our vows are sacred to the Fatherland and it's people." When he looked at the passing forests his hand audibly cracked as he made a fist. "This... No. these, beasts are nothing more, then a threat too the Fatherland. A threat that should be exterminated. Nooo. If this was the Fatherland. It's people would be called upon for his armour. And the Wehrmacht acting as it's blade. But the Schutzstaffel will be the Fatherland's spear and it's shield." A prideful voice entered his being as he worked himself up. "We, are the pride of the Fatherland. Prideful sons that can continue the fight that our Fathers and fore fathers can not continue the fight." Sitting straight and true with a content smile, he held onto his left breast, where the Iron cross should've been. "Any that dares too threaten our homeland, will be swiftly met head on. Being apart of the Schutzstaffel, we do not eliminate. We Annihilate those. That dares! Too threaten the fatherlands, good fortune." Fluer de lis couldn't comprehend what she was hearing. They way he spoke, how he showed his true feelings like a pompous aristocrat. And the amount of Zeal and fanaticism that could've put the white fang and most companies too shame. Not even the four kingdoms have such a driving force of patriotism.

Fleur turned away from the recorder with the time at 1:45.30 of there recorded session. Far into the distance she spotted the looming shadows of a city that proved the Grimm are powerful. She looked over towards Jürgen thinking that his thoughts are different. "Mount Glen. Dead ahead." Glancing over, She could see him rummaging throughout his kit. Marking off what he held. "Where am I touching down?." Watching the ruined city's sky scrapers passing by she maneuvered her craft over the dilapidating city. "Oh. You'll know where too go." Confused at his choice of words. He spoke up again before she had the chance. "Look where the ruins end and where the graveyard begins." He pointed towards there North by North west.

She spotted where he was pointing. She couldn't hold back her surprise at what she saw. There in it's haunting stance, where mount Glen ended. A scared landscape began, homes reduced to rubble and streets littered with debris and holes. "Where the fuck did this come from?" She was too focused on her new surroundings. Enraptured by the surreal sight, row after decimated row stood homes, apartment's and in the far North distance was several factories. "Watch what's in front of us, god dam it!" Startled she saw the approach smoke stack, quickly she veered to the right, avoiding the obstacle. "Focus Fleur!" He snarled out. Looking down at his watch it now read 21:38 a resign sigh left him. "We need too find a place too hunker down soon." As soon as Jürgen looked up he spotted a familiar building. And yet after all this time, it still stood, barring a few holes and a some burnt floors, it still stood tall. "There. That legislation building." He pointed out the very large construct with the torn and burnt flags of the Das Reich.

"You're kidding. Right? Look at the state it's in! And the god dam lot is full of shit." She pointed around the nearby streets and at the chaotic displacement of cover and barricades. "Nein, Nein, Nein I mean the rooftop of that Forward operating post. You can't miss it." She held the craft in position as she surveyed her landing options. "Don't even think of landing anywhere else. This is the only place I can think of, off the top of my head. That you're hammerhead would be safe from those hellish hounds." She shifted her sights at him then at the lone building. "Trust me Fluer. I know these streets and the city better than anyone that is alive today." Jürgen watched the imposing grave with a small amount of fear. But it was outweighed by the bitterness of hatred and anger. "Alright then. I'll trust you, just one time, I'll trust you." Slowly the craft delicately shifted in air, aliening above the rooftop. Gently touching down, a groaning erupted beneath them.

"Easy girl, easy, you're not fat enough too crumple this roof yet." Jürgen spoke in a soothing manner. Fluer was staring at him with a very unamused spirit. "Shut up! You're making things worse for me." She hissed back. Carefully and a lot of time passing she finally powered down her craft. Standing up Jürgen gathered his equipment and gear as he awaited for her to open the bay doors. "So. What, should I expect that you're here for?" With a sidelong glance her way, he focused what was about to lay before them. "Death and decay with a loss of hope." He bitterly spoke out. The soft clack of the bolt locking, she shifted nervously as the bay opened towards a decaying city.

With carful steps, Jürgen shifted his sights around him. The Papasha resting firmly against his shoulder. The streets are deathly silent, the absence of birdsong or anything else was gone. It pulled at his sixth sense, not allowing the hairs on the back of his head, any comfort. Rubble clattered beneath his boots, A sharp metallic clang of metal was on his right. Immediately turning with his sights aligned, with the center mass of Fuler de lis. She was holding onto what appeared too be a poll. Then she slowly unentangled the torn red banner. There, in it's pathetic state, was the white roundel on a red background with the black swastika. She couldn't see the full banner it was torn asunder. But too him he could see it clearly as day.

"Fluer." She jumped at his call, turning He gestured towards there left. "This way." The door was nothing too scoff at, just a broken and rotting piece of wood. With a hardy kick it fell before them making way for there next destination. He pushed Fluer behind him just as she was taking point. "Hey. You don't need too be pushy there." A light snort escaped his nose. "There's a good reason that I'm being protective of you." With a soft scoff she poked his shoulder. "What. You think a few Grimm, are going too be a problem?." The aged old wooden stairs, creaked under their weight. Stopping near the end, he turned towards her. "It's not them that I should be worried about. This, hellish graveyard hides, many dangers in plain sight." With the long hallway, of this once pristine building before them. Was now, nothing more than a ruined life. Bestowed upon by the wrath of the Axis and the CCCP. Relaxing his stance he methodically moved throughout the Command post taking rooms around sections that where no longer there.

Opening the last door, lead them into the main hub of the CP's commanding structure. "Fluer. Stay here." She scoffed at him, pushing past she made her way across the room until she was violently pulled back. "Ow What the fuck is wrong with you?" She bit down on him, but he wasn't looking at her but at the floor. Very slowly he handed her his sub machine gun. Pulling out a pair of tools he began to trace his finger towards the left then right. "Two steps forward, you would've killed us both." He calmly spoke. "Make sure that nothing will bother us. Okay Fräulein." Lifting the Russian machine pistol clumsily she began too watch the doors and windows along with the floor. "What is that." Still working the line as he traced it back towards an German explosive mine. "A Scheiße!" He shook his head as he found a Teller mine, equipped with a Z.Z. Fuse. "I cannot touch this." Standing back up, he pushed Fluer away and around the dangerous obstacle. "Why? Can't you just, cut the wire and be done with it?" She asked confused. He violently shook his head. "No! That's a good way too kill us. That's a god dam teller mine!" He exclaimed. "That mine has enough TNT too level this floor." She looked between him and the small rubble where the booby trap laid. "What type of mine is it?" A dry chuckle escaped him as he looked fondly back at it. "Its designed for an anti-tank role. Has about 5.5 kilograms of TNT and there's an anti-handling fuse. So... in short, I cannot touch it or safely disarm it."

Stopping near the table with all the maps and battle plans. He motioned for her too stay as he began too sweep the room for more traps, placed by German hands. Fluer watched him as he methodically marked out the hidden boobytraps with the room. Curiously she surveyed their room. Tables in poor condition, shattered glass laying around windows that where blown out in one direction, with piles of sandbags and spent cartridges. In another area was maps and loose papers, scattered beyond the hope of retrieval. Shifting Jürgen's weapon with in her grasp, she pulled the strap above herself and placed it neatly onto the very large map with a layout of the city. She gave up, on trying too understand the Solitas language and writing, along with the other symbols and nonsense markings. With a tired sigh, she looked up and spotted a painting. A painting that wasn't aligned and crooked. It was a painting of a beautiful field with lush trees and bushes with a small town in the background. The sky was partly clouded with even brush strokes. The colour palette was perfectly eye catching, but it was martyred how it was slanted and unaligned. Taking the initiative, she strode over. Like a looming snake, just before her hand could touch it. It was firmly grasped and she was harshly pulled away from the painting. "Leave it be." Was what Jürgen quickly said. "Why?" An unnervingly smile came across his lips. "Funny thing you should say or know. That painting is boobytrapped." A cold chill ran up her spine as she looked at the now revealed trap. "It's quite an ingenious placement right." As he pulled Fleur away. "Now, I've found four traps and two of them are safe... for now. And we know where the other two is right." She wasn't smiling nor did she had a amused expression in the current situation. "How can you be so calm in this situation?." A hearty laugh wasn't what she wanted to hear. "For a civilian like you. This is just another day at work. But for me, it's more than just a job." He answered back like an old colleague talking about the weekend.

With a light clatter, he picked up his PPSH slinging it back, to it's rightful spot. With a hand gesture, he motioned for Fluer too follow him. With a huff, she moved towards where he stood, shuffling through a wooden crate. Before she could get any closer, he tossed her a Rifle.

It was a heavy and robust rifle that she fumbled with, before resting against her chest and arms. She stared dumbfounded, at the Rifle in her hands. The cherrywood body was battered and scratched along its frame. The bolt was well seasoned and rounded with a smooth steel surface and a box gently rested beneath along with a folded knife that was hooked around the barrel. Then, she felt something, heavy and metallic covering her head and over her eyes. "Schützen Flure." boomed Jürgen. As he walked away, grabbing several more materials, before shoving them on top of the rifle. "Consider you're self, forcefully...conscripted. By the order of our Fuhrer and the Fatherland." They where silent for a few seconds. As Fluer was looking into Jürgen's plain expression. Until it cracked into a wide grin and a hearty chuckle escaped. She fumbled for words, exasperated from the weapon and gear in her hands until she just dropped them. Getting right up towards him. But before she could say anything. It was interrupted when they both heard, the rapid succession of cracks and pops in the city.

Moving into action. Jürgen dove into the piles of sandbags that faced the east where mount Glenn was. Noticing that Fluer was still in the open, he harshly pulled her down beside him as he reached out again pulling the Soviet SVT-40 closer and the strap that contained pouches. Locking the bolt back. A stripper of five, seven point, sixty two rounds where fed into the clip. Then it Was tossed aside with another, feeding into the box clip. With a sharp flick and a light clack of the bolt closing. He rolled around, onto his stomach, resting the rifle gently on top, for support. The streets where always the same, quiet on one end, but noisy and alive with hate in another. Oh how it was still, unnerving too be out in the open or anywhere near a window. The perfect grounds for a hunter of men. The Iron sights moved with his inquisitive movements, scrutinizing every little hole and rubble. A broken fountain laid in ruins where the heart of the square started. Just a few meters towards the east, was the remains of a burnt out husk of a T-34. Still with it's warped gun facing him. Still with his sights, it moved over the makeshift grounds where brave German souls, stood against Stalins rabid dogs. It was still littered with broken remains. The evidence was of a Panzerkampfwagen mark three Ausf L buried beneath bricks and mortar.

Still, he could see the line in the sand, that bloody bear had crossed. No... decimated the feeble line, that they have tired too hold back. His hands gripped the wooden stock, much harder. ("Do you know how to handle a firearm?") unconsciously slipping back into his mother's tongue. ("If you're going too speak differently. Then speak something we both know.") She sharply spoke in French. A rye smile graced his lips, along with a dry chuckle before speaking in French. ("If that's what you wish. Then so be it.")

There was nothing that Jürgen could note, within the courtyard. But it left out too many cases out, pulling away slowly and staying low. With a light motion of his head, Fluer followed suite. ("Do you know how to handle a firearm?") he asked, as he placed down the SVT-40 detaching the clip and the loaded round. (No. I do not, I never thought, in my life I would use one.") She flinched under his hardening gaze. A muffled retort escaped his lips and a hand over his mouth. Recomposing himself he let out a tired resignation in German. ("Out of all the times in my life, why am I blessed with such a wretched curse.") grabbing the rifle by its boar, he handed it Fluer. Which in turn she hesitantly reached out before it was shoved into her arms.

For ten minutes. Ten. Long. Gruelling minutes, Jürgen ran her through the motions of handling and loading the strip clips. If only he could've found more of those god forsaken detachable box mags he wouldn't have to help her load and unload that Rifle. She was abysmal at handling the Rifle. She held no common sense when it was loaded. The women he had met knew how too shoot and defend themselves and their homestead. ("Fluer I'll take first watch. I'm going too see if there's anything else, that I've missed.") Her head snapped up with a look of surprise. "Now hold on there Jürgen. I'm about too liftoff pretty soon. And I'm. Not, waiting any longer." She stood up, roughly placing the Rifle into of the map. ("Like we have agreed. I drop you off and I come back in two days afterwards.") A frown martyred his face. Walking back he gently took the rifle and observed the war map. ("Do you know where I'm going too be?.") She shook her head in the negative as she tried too burn a hole in the map. ("Two days from now. I'll need you too be here. With a much larger, cargo capacity.")

Again, that seething anger martyred her beautiful features again. Before he could've defuse the situation, she struck out like a fine dualists rapier. "Fuck that!." Her snarl surprised Jürgen. It sparked into his core, a reminiscent form. But the now peeved woman in front, began too push him with just a finger. ("I told you once. And again, i'll remind you of that "small" detail you seemingly forgot.") He felt his pride whither in growing anger. She was now pushing it!. ("You hired me. And that means MY Hammerhead, I can't just ask my uncle for his bird and not gain anything in response. Just for lending his Prized possession.") Her voice carried such a venomous tone, and oh, how she could just push him around. Still pressing her assault, she didn't see his open palm coming. ("I don't want anything to do with my-") The force of the slap was strong enough too push her back. The sound resonating throughout the empty building, a mere echo disturbing the silent twilight.

With a sharp exhale through his nose, Jürgen ruffly pushed her backwards. ("You are treading, on very dangerous thin ice Fräulein.") He stopped himself as he realized that his mother's tongue had slipped. Taking in a breath he spoke again in French. ("You're pushing in the wrong direction Fluer. You better start treading more carefully now before something happens.") his words carried out, through the ruined post. They both held a great amount of distance from each other. Jürgen standing tall despite his stature. A cold unyielding stare from those cold eyes. Fluer standing across from him, with her shaken hand, caressing her reddening cheek. Within her blue eyes shimmered with fear and pain.

They stayed in there spots. Waiting for the other too make a move, nothing happened in their stand off. Jürgen felt his being striking out like whip, towards his raging Germanic pride. Through the clouded haze, it struck him again, upon seeing Fluer there. A women he had struck in his anger. She was in front of him well out of his range and ready too flee in any direction within the moment. The fearless and that fiery tempered spirit was gone. And here stood a girl, that had been struck by his own hand, in a fit of anger.

Before he could mend his mistake. That dreadful howl pierced the air, shattering the silence from its coming. They both froze just from the sound alone. Grabbing the rifle, Jürgen ran towards the hole facing the East. Those hellish red eyes he feared where coming. Five bearers of death ran through the battered field, easily moving over rubble, mortar and broken machines of war. Without turning towards her, he spoke out with a sense of fear. ("Run Fluer.") It was so soft that it snapped her back. ("Wh-wh-What?") Twisting around to face her with such fear. ("Get out of here!") The yell was so sudden as he pushed her towards, where the stairs are. ("Fly Fluer. get out of here.") She stopped before she ran up. ("What about you?") With a loud clack of a bolt. ("Find me at the designated time and spot. Where I have showed you.") Shouldering the Russian rifle, it barked loud and clear. Three shots left from his position, striking long dried dirt and claymore, undeterred beasts from hell still moved. Rounds biting into their blackened fur or simply skittering across the bone white masks of steel. With the last casing ejected and the hungry maw wide open taking the Mosin strip and feeding the rifle. Taking a quick glance around, he saw Fluer still standing there. ("Run Dummkopf. Los los?.") pushing her again, he wasn't so gentle anymore as he shoved her through the door and up the flight.

Running back at the breach, he was stopped immediately by the massive claw digging into the sand bags and wood. Dropping the SVT and drawing his Papashaw. As soon as the hound showed it's hateful red eyes behind that infernal mask, he let loose. Seven point sixty two Tokarev bullets, showered across its face, stinging like angry hornets. With a pained howl and lifting one paw forward with a sharp swipe. Shifting around the strike, he shifted his attack on it's only leverage it held. Flesh tore apart from the unrelenting assault, the hellhound's mutilated paw slipped out from severed nerves and muscle. Falling from the five story German post, Jürgen quickly discarded the drum magazine, seeing as he had no time for the minimal time at hand.

Breaching the floor below him. The hellish fiend knocked him across the small room slamming through the rotting wall. Dry dust and wood splintered throughout his being a sharp intake of pain exploded across his back air escaping his lungs. Rolling on his side coughing out dust and blood. His heart stopped, upon seeing his beloved machine pistol, crushed beneath it's paw. Three of them stood there, growling. Fear was gripping at his Iron heart his spirit wavering before them. But, before it could over take him. Something inside of him snapped. A burning hateful spirit for accepting such a fate. Clenching his hands, he could feel the dirt, wood, and debris collecting inside his palm. "Nein." Was the quiet answer. "Nein." Straining his body too move. "You... will not, take me. Too Hell!" His defiant yell was laced with fury and resolve.

The beasts took the sight as a challenge, their low growls turning into a snarl. The front Beowolf leapt forth, teeth bearing down on the Schutzstaffel before it. Burning hot pain exploded across its neck, a firm hand holding around the jugular. With great desperation it clawed at the man holding onto it. Shallow markings tearing into cloth and flesh, small grunts of pain escaping past his gritted teeth. "You think, you're the only ones that can give out death?" He questioned the hellhounds, slowly he pushed the one he held back. "Well then. That means that I must become better then you hellish spawns of Cerberus. So that I can proudly proclaim our motto back!" Cocking his arm backwards, he struck out with all the hate and anger flowing throughout his spirit. The strike connected into the jugular, a choked yelp escaped the wolf, a ragged wheeze was the only sound it made. Drawing his Mauser from the ruined straps and unsheathing the steel of his youth knife. A burning sense of power and anger bubbled within him, fire dancing along his hands and arms. A firm and commanding voice broke through the haze. "We must be better and preform better than the enemy, and only then can we say." He lept forth charging into the two at the door. A battle cry leaving his lips with absolute pride. "Give death and take death!"

Slamming into the Beowolf on the right, he pushed with this new found in power. Steel biting into blacked fur, again he drew back to thrust forth sliding underneath the rib cage. Drawing the C96 underneath it's jaw, the cold smooth bore lodging deeper as he pressed forth. With a bright and sharp crack the pistol discharged the empty cartridge. Black inky smoke fled from its wounds, the body beginning too dissipate as he charged again towards his next target. With a horizontal swipe, Jürgen felt the force connecting within his spirit, tossing the man across the room. Slamming into the table, maps and tools where thrown from his wake, rolling onto his side teeth gritted in anger as he pulled himself up from broken wood and torn paper. Levelling his Mauser pistol at the wolf before him, rapid thumps on his left took his attention away. That single mistake was quickly capitalized by the hound, charging forth, too quickly for Jürgen too react in time as the massive paw swatted him.

The force sent a painful shock throughout his chest and left arm. Seeing the room spinning and quick flashes of the hound, it suddenly stopped by hitting against one of the many weaken pillars. The raging beast inside of him flared out with more fuel, pain seeped across his battered body. Gritting his teeth for a short period, it began to subside into a dull throb. "I. Will not... be taken, too hell!" Standing back up with renewed vigour, the fire in his heart burning brighter than ever. "I'll make you work for it." Reversing his grip on the knife, he pushed past the dull throbbing and aching wounds away. "I will not, allow myself, too wallow in my own grave. I will continue to fight for the Fatherland and his people." Holding onto that burning sensation within his heart. A low threatening growl came from the right. Clawing itself a wider opening through brick and plaster, was a very large wolf, bone white mask and coverings that acted like steel armour.

Jürgen took a few steps away, from such a large hellish fiend. His foot slipped underneath him, with a quick glance, he had backed into the opening, facing towards the eastern front and noting three of those hounds, were on his left and right. Deliberately blocking all chances of escape. Seeing his chances now, a slow and quiet chuckle bubbled out of him before it became a laugh. A short laughing fit, long enough for the alpha of the pack to crawled itself inside the short room. "You think you have me cornered?" He spoke, after taking in a short breath, his smile dissolving into a harsh scowl. "I think not." Aligning his sights, the Iron cross hairs levelling at the skewered painting behind the alpha wolf. "Tell death that you're hunt, was unsuccessful." Sensing the immediate danger from him. The pack leader pounced forth, but it was too late. From the muzzle a single bullet left. Leaving behind a fiery burst only for it too die swiftly into black ash, the escaping gas pushing the slide back for an empty brass casing to be ejected.

Soaring through the air, towards its target. The alpha before it was in the air sharpen claws out stretched for its prey. With the mass beginning to obscure the target, it simply skimmed across the bone white plate taking small fragments, unimpeded and clear line it struck the target. Plaster and wood sprayed from its strike, the force was enough too jostle the art off the wall taking pieces of the wall. The thin line that was set pulled back the fuse, freeing the clip with a solemn click. The charging pin fired forth, igniting the powder within. The tiller mine bloated out cracking the steel shell and throwing fragments in an angry fit. The concussive force threw the hounds off their feet's, as more where set off. Stone, wood, plaster and torn tools, where thrown about like pikemen thrusting spears into the enemy.

Again, Jürgen found that the alpha, was violently thrown off. The concussive wave forcing the big dog into him. The wind was violently forced from his lungs. his steel helm clattered into his skull that it wasn't made for, as the hound got in one final strike across his head. The explosion of stars and the world spinning around him, didn't help as he tussled over and over in the air. Before he could feel the unforgiving ground, an arm wrapped around his waist and the sudden motion of slowing down. With another tug they where off. Through the lucid haze, all he could see and hear where just blurs and muffled sounds. Fighting the losing battle for consciousness all he felt was his arms being draped over two bodies on both arms. He felt a tickling sensation underneath the left. He couldn't keep up the fight, his will was fading as well as the darkness growing around his sight. Then he felt no more as he slipped into unconsciousness.

As promised here are a few that I've been reading on. until next time. review and throw in some advice too help me.

Hitler's Elite: The SS 1939-45 by Chris McNab

The Waffen SS: Hitler's Elite Guard at War, 1939-1945 By George H. Stein

My struggle by Hitler himself.

stalingrad: the fateful siege: 1942-1943 By Antony beevor

German panzer Divisions of WW II by bishop Chris

Munich playground Ernest R. Pope

The Gestapo: the myth and Reality of Hitler's Secret Police by Frank McDonough

More too add next chapter