Chapter 9: The Rogue Faction

Hogan had both arms twisted so he was forced to his knees.

He and Tiger had been dragged out into the main area, that had likely once been used by the factory workers – and so had all four of his men. Glancing around, Hogan satisfied himself that none of them seemed to have been roughed about too much. Like him, they were forced to their knees. But they were kept on their knees with guns pressed to their heads.

The only one not forced to their knees was Tiger.

Her arms were held behind her back by a man four times her size.

The Sergeant in charge of these Nazis paced in the circle they were holding them in. He looked them over, nodding to himself. It didn't escape Hogan's notice that there was a reverend standing on the edge of the room. That was weird. Hogan looked at Tiger in question. She saw him looking and shrugged as much as she was able.

The Nazi stopped in front of Hogan. 'I am Sgt. Kaufman, Col. Hogan. I am forced to sneak behind my superiors' backs for the simple reason that until it could be proven that you were doing what you have been doing, you were protected by the Geneva Convention.' He spat out the last two words. 'Do you have any idea how galling that was?'

Hogan inclined his head. Kaufman seemed in the mood to talk. The longer he did talk, the more time Hogan had to think of a way out of this. And the more he talked, the more likely he was to spill out something Hogan could use. 'And what do you think I'm doing?'

Kaufman scowled and shot forward. Hogan saw it coming, but he couldn't do anything about it. The Nazi delivered a hard kick into his gut. Stars flashed behind Hogan's eyes and he gagged, a metallic taste coating his tongue. He was vaguely aware of his men calling out to him. He sucked in several breaths and glanced up at Tiger. Even from the distance, he could see her fighting back tears.

Those boots had steel caps.

Note to self: avoid getting kicked again.

'Don't play dumb with me, Hogan!' Kaufman barked. 'You have been sabotaging the German war effort from inside Stalag 13. And because that fool Klink never seems to get transferred, no one catches you! Not until today!'

Hogan dropped his head. There were a few droplets of blood below him.

'Do you have any idea what it's like to serve under people stupider that you are?' Kaufman ranted. 'Anyone with eyes could see what you were doing, but they refuse to even investigate. Because Stalag 13 has never had a successful escape! And why might that be, Hogan? Hm?'

Hogan said nothing.

Kaufman kicked him again. This time, Hogan was sure he felt something crack. A pain deep in his chest seemed to get worse as he pulled air in. And Hogan found he was having a hard time getting enough air into his lungs. His head had begun to feel very faint. And he had a very good idea what was going on inside his body.

'Colonel, are you all right?' Kinch called.

Hogan tried to answer but all he managed was to croak out, 'Fine!'

Kaufman chuckled. 'You don't sound fine. But I suppose I should stop. You see, I don't plan to kill you immediately, Col. Hogan. I have something far more enticing in mind.'

Hogan spat out the blood pooling in his mouth and looked up.

Kaufman nodded to the men holding him.

They let go. Hogan dropped to the cold, hard floor and found himself having to catch his breath again. The world around him started to grey. A sharp sting across his face pulled him back to the world of wakefulness though. Kaufman kicked him onto his back. Hogan grunted in pain. His arm automatically went over his middle.

'Here's the thing, Col. Hogan,' Kaufman said. 'I've been sitting there for three years, watching you get away with your nonsense. And the one General who was going to do something about it, you smuggled to England. I have no doubt you went after him. And now he's a British POW. So, this isn't just looking after Germany's interests. This is vindication.'

Hogan glared up at him.

'Vindication,' Kaufman reiterated. 'Because I am not simple going to kill you. I am going to punish you for humiliating the Fatherland.'

Hogan didn't like the sound of that. He didn't know what Kaufman meant when he said "punish", but it implied…Hogan's eyes darted around. He looked at each of his men. More specifically, he looked at the guns aimed at their heads. And that was the moment he understood. They weren't just holding them there.

At some point, those triggers would be pulled.

Kaufman laughed. 'Ah, yes. I see you understand. We are going to slit your throat eventually. But, first, you will watch your men die. And they will die because they were loyal to you.'

Hogan watched as all four of them reacted to that information. Newkirk and LeBeau winced and jammed their eyes shut. They dropped their head for a moment before looking at each other. Then they lifted their heads again and raised their chins. Kinch's eyes widened momentarily before he hardened his expression and tried to look unaffected. Carter jerked and glanced back. Then he released a shaky breath and closed his eyes.

Hogan shut his own eyes. They were his men. They were his responsibility. And now they were going to die here, because they were loyal to him. They had refused to let him walk into this alone, and he had given in without a fight. He should have ordered them to stay behind. He should have come here alone.

'And they're not the only ones either.' Kaufman walked over and roughly took a hold of Tiger's hair. 'We have plans for this woman.'

She kept her eyes resolutely glued ahead. Hogan twitched. He tried to move, but his strength was failing him. He had a very good idea of what those "plans" were and he was damned determined not to let that happen to her. His chest ached in protest at the attempt to move. Kaufman chuckled and strode back over to him.

'Very noble of you, Col. Hogan,' he sneered, kicking him back over onto his back and pressing his foot over Hogan's chest, right over where the injury was.

Hogan choked back a cry of pain.

'But,' Kaufman went on, 'I'm afraid that what I'm planning is far worse than anything you might imagine.'

Hogan glared up at him.

Kaufman chuckled. 'I just have to decide the order in which I'll do it. But I have time. You see, for the correct results, I have to do all of this in a particular order. I've already given you the first beating. Now we have some formalities to get out of the way. Then I am required to kill your closest confidante. You appear to have five, so they will all be killed, one-by-one.'

Process? He had a process behind what he was doing? Hogan didn't understand how something like this had a process. And he didn't have any idea what that process might have been. He had next to no information, and that wouldn't do. While tempted to spit the blood in his mouth at Kaufman, Hogan knew that would do nothing except earn him another kick.

So instead, Hogan risked asking, '…Formalities?'

'Yes,' Kaufman drawled with an air of boredom. 'The ritual requires that you go through a religious process. That's the sole reason we brought the preacher here.'

Hogan blinked in confusion. He wasn't particularly religious himself but…

Laughter suddenly echoed all around the warehouse.

Kaufman spun around. 'Who is that?'

An unseen Scotsman answered. 'In due time. I see you've done your homework. The Forbidden Curse has a very specific step-by-step process.'

An Austrian accent joined the first. 'Failing any of these steps loses you your end result. Step one: forcibly remove all friends and loved ones from arm's length of the person you wish to convert.'

Blinking Hogan looked up. He couldn't see a thing. But his head was swimming.

The Scotsman spoke up. 'Step two: give the first beating.'

Kaufman pulled out his firearm and shot up randomly.

He obviously missed. 'Step three: excommunicate,' the Austrian said. 'That's what you're about to attempt, but it'd fall flat on its face.'

The Scotsman went on. 'Step four: murder your subject's closest confidante in front of the subject. And leave your subject helpless to save them.'

'Step five: give the second beating.'

'I demand to know who you are!' Kaufman barked.

The Scotsman ignored him. 'Step six: get someone the subject loves unconditionally, kill this individual, and gather their blood. Keep the blood warm.'

'Step seven,' the Austrian said, 'give the third and final beating.'

'Step eight: force the subject to drink the previously gathered blood.'

'Who are you?' Kaufman demanded.

'Step nine,' the Austrian said, 'utter the incantation as you do this.'

'Step ten: slit your subject's throat. All done properly, and you have created a Cursed Vampire. May God have mercy on your Souls.'

In the next instant, Kaufman was thrown back and a man in a pressed black suit stood between him and Hogan. 'P.S: He won't.'