German History Museum
The next day Hans went to the bar across the platform first thing. In the Pariser Platz subway the track had been clear when the bombs dropped, so there was lots of space for the survivors to build on. On the A side of the platform was mostly housing; the surface entrance to the A side had collapsed at some point, so there was no back way into it, making it safe. The 'first floor', as the platform was called, had four apartments built on it, built side by side. Two opposite the staircase, and two next to it. Upstairs was the lobby of the subway, where the subway's more affluent residents lived. Two converted bathrooms, a converted break room, and three converted utility closets were home to the Pariser Platz council, the head and lieutenant of security, and Hans Eckhart.
On platform B was the highlight of the station, the bar. Down a short hallway to a large store room was a basic inn, for travelers and caravanners (free condoms!, the sign outside said), and there was a tiny diner in the corner. At least, it was marketed as a diner. Really it was just one guy, his grill, and a hot plate. Word had it he was pretty happy about the parts from the bombed out grill, though Hans was sure that he'd have been happier if the grill had been completely intact.
"What'll it be today?" the bartender asked when Hans sat down. This early in the morning there were few people around, just the shopkeepers from the next station over at the Deutsches Historisches Museum. They had a handcar with a trailer attached to it, benches bolted to the trailer, and the shopkeepers would ride over for breakfast and then ride back to open up. A fairly sweet setup for them, all things considered. The two stations had a landline to each other, so if someone at Pariser Platz needed a ride to the DHM station all they had to do was call. Otherwise it'd be a twenty minute walk down the tunnel, or on the surface, and few took that option.
"A Nuka-Cola, please" Hans said. Bars were bars, in his experience, and they all had the same stuff. Beer, lagers, water, and soda. Of course even in Germany the soft drink of choice was Nuka-Cola, as far as Hans could tell. The U.S imported, or tried to, all of their crap in the decades before the war, and most of it still remained. Billboards everywhere in Berlin still stood advertising things from Nuka-Cola to snack foods to Vaults, not that Hans had ever seen one of those. As far as he knew Vault-Tec had never actually built a vault anywhere in Germany, but they sure had plans to, with all their advertising still around.
The bartender came back with the soda, Hans handed him a token, and he popped the cap. A year ago he'd heard a rumor, during his team's misadventure at Fernsehturm tower, that there were people who used such bottlecaps as money, as stupid as that sounded. In the U-Bahnen the only currency accepted was prewar subway tokens, seeing as how they were all made out of silver. At least they had legitimate value.
Hans took a sip of his soda and looked at Hilda as she came up and sat next to him. "Good morning. How are you?"
"Hi, Hilda. Good, thank you. Here, I have your cut from yesterday's job" Hans said, and reached into his pocket. He handed a pouch of tokens to her and she put it in one of her many pouches. "75 tokens for you, 75 for Walter, and 50 for me, as agreed upon."
"Thank you, Hans. I haven't seen Walter around this morning, so he must be upstairs." The bartender came by and Hilda ordered a water and some breakfast for the two of them. "What's next for us? Did the council have any more work when you went to see them yesterday?"
Hans shook his head. "Councilor Edmund wants me to see her after breakfast, and I'm supposed to hear about our next job then." Their breakfast, scrambled eggs and bacon courtesy of the folks at Technische Universitat Berlin, soon came and was even sooner finished.
"Very good" was all Hans had to say. Hilda paid for their breakfast and they both stood. "Find Walter, it's probably important." Hilda nodded, turned, and left. Hans crossed the tracks to platform A and headed up the stairs to Councilor Edmund's apartment, one of the converted bathrooms, and knocked. The door opened a few moments later and there stood the councilor, Klara Edmund, her blonde hair done up in a bun.
"Come in, come in."
Hans did as asked and the councilor closed the door behind him. The converted bathrooms were the biggest rooms in the station, spacious and rather nice actually. Hans stood in the center of the room on an ancient, faded rug, and watched as the councilor walked across the room to one of her chairs. She offered one to Hans, who accepted.
"I really must thank you again for yesterday, Herr Eckhart. I understand it was a group effort with the other stations involved, but your team was the first in. A good job, that" she said.
"Thank you."
"The council had nothing for you yesterday, at least not officially, but now we do. One of the shopkeepers from the history museum was carrying a letter from their council, asking us for our help. They have a ghoul problem in one of their wings, along with some odd break-ins they want someone to investigate. Way I understand it nothing's been stolen from the settlers there, but maybe someone's been breaking in to steal exhibit pieces from the uninhabited wings. I'm told the pay will be modest, unless it's discovered that the break-ins are far more serious than they suspect" Councilor Edmund explained.
"I'll do it. I'll call up the museum station and we'll head right over" Hans said.
"Thank you, Herr Eckhart. Be safe."
Ten minutes later the handcar from the Deutsches Historische Museum station arrived and ten minutes after that Hans, Hilda, and Walter were standing on the platform of the station, the shops open and the market lively. There was a subtle din of chatter and merchants hawking their wares. As one of the biggest U-Bahn stations in the area the DHM station enjoyed having ample space for up to ten merchant stalls, seven on one platform and three on the other, selling everything from cookware to armor to furniture to guns.
"Councilor Edmund said it was a ghoul problem, so I'll make sure to load up on hollow points if you two need any" Walter said to the two of them. "You're both carrying 9mm's, right?"
Hans and Hilda nodded.
"Good." With what Walter left them for the arms merchant and Hans headed upstairs to the living areas of the DHM station, Hilda right beside him. In the common area was one of the DHM councilors, talking to some guards. He nodded at Hans and beckoned him over, and the guards dispersed, MP40's in hand. Submachine guns were the weapon of choice for U-Bahn guards, and with good reason, given their fire rates and compact sizes. MP34s, MP40s, Ermas. Hans had even seen a guard with an MP5 once, though no where near Berlin.
"Herr Eckhart, Fraulein Muller, welcome. I am Assistant Councilor Friedrich Ademar, welcome to the DHM station. I trust that Herr Steinbatz is well?" the councilor asked.
"He is. He's downstairs, stocking us up. You have a ghoul problem?" Hilda asked, and the councilor nodded.
"The station is the heart of our economy, the home of our markets, but there are plans to expand into the museum proper. If not to live in, then at least to preserve our history and our culture. There's a small group of guards who checked the building, but lately they were accosted by ferals that have wandered in. We're not sure what wing the ferals are in, but there's only the two floors, plus the basement. If I had to guess I'd say the ferals are in the basement."
Hans nodded. "Alright, we'll start there."
"I do wish you well, Herr Eckhart. Ghouls can be a dangerous lot, as I'm sure you're well aware. If you'd like, I have some supplies you might find useful" Friedrich said, and Hans nodded again. The councilor stepped behind the ticket desk of the station, disappeared into a backroom, and came back out carrying a duffel bag. He set it down on the desk and opened it, and Hans peered inside. There were several boxes of 9mm hollow points, a box of shotgun shells, four stimpaks, and a double barreled shotgun. Hans pulled it out and was surprised to find it was an M30 Drilling, two 12-guage barrels over a single 9.3mm rifle barrel. A formidable weapon. The accompanying box in the bag contained twenty brass-hulled* military shotshells, 00 buck.
"Hollow points are well and good against ghouls, but I should think this will inspire more confidence" Friedrich said, and Hans nodded. He handed the boxes of 9mm HP's to Hilda and pocketed the shotshells.
"Thank you, councilor. We'll get this done before the end of the day" Hans said. Friedrich bowed his head gratefully just as Walter came jogging up the stairs and over to the group.
"Looks like we're all set to go. Is that a Drilling? I'd have bought some shotgun shells if I knew the council was gonna give you one" Walter said. He was carrying a brown paper bag which he upended over the counter and dumped the contents of out. Three boxes of 9mm HP ammo and a magazine for an Erma SMG clattered out, along with an M24 stick grenade.
"Don't worry about it, Herr Ademar included some ammo for it" Hans said. He and Hilda pulled their P38 pistols from their holsters, loaded up their empty mags with hollow points, and set the guns on the counter. Hans slung his K98k and handed the Drilling to Walter. "Our 8mm's will just pass straight through those zombies, so you'll take point with the Drilling. Hilda, make sure your Erma's loaded with HP's too. Everyone ready? Let's go."
"Good luck, Herr Eckhart. Godspeed."
It was a short trek up the stairs from the DHM station and out into the Berlin morning, the U-Bahn entrance opening onto a stone yard, a dilapidated gazebo a short distance away. Across the boulevard was the Granitschale im Lustgarten, a modest park adjacent to the Berliner Dom cathedral.
To the left, across an offshoot of the river Spree, was the Deutsches Historisches Museum, the German flag still waving atop the Zeughaus. The street and bridge were clear, save for the rusting hulk of a panel truck just stopped in the middle of the road, so the three of them walked out onto the boulevard. The view along the length of Unter den Linden was clear, the Brandenburg Gate standing proud at the far end of the boulevard. The namesakes of the street were still standing, though they were long dead, their branches forever bare.
"Anyone wanna pay a visit to Fernsehturm when we're done?" Walter joked, and Hans rolled his eyes.
"Sure. Let's go back into the station and buy some bombs. I don't think the assholes at Fernsehturm learned their lesson after last time" Hilda said, a smile on her pretty face. They proceeded across the bridge to the nearest corner of the Zeughaus, where they stopped to perform one last check of their equipment.
"Walter, you're first in the door. I'll be on your left and Hilda on your right. Keep your Erma ready, Hilda. Remember, I'm the weak link here with just my P38, but if all the ghouls are in the basement as expected then it should be an easy time" Hans said, and his team nodded. "We'll take it slow for as long as we can, unless there aren't too many of them. Let's go."
They quietly rushed into the lobby of the museum, keeping low. The lobby was clear, save for debris. A statue of a knight clad in armor riding a horse stood on the right, the glass case shattered long ago. There was another door opposite the main entrance, which opened up on a courtyard home to ancient cannons. To the left was the reception desk and shelves holding old souvenirs, and to the right was a sturdy metal door. 'Achtung: Verboten!', the sign declared.
"Check the door" Hans said, and Walter jogged over to it. He pushed, and it opened. He peered inside, pushed it open all the way, and gestured for the others to follow him.
"Basement staircase. Down we go."
Hans and Hilda followed him, slowly descending the steps to the basement. There was a distant humming, likely a fusion generator, and a door to the left and right. The hall went on for twenty or so feet before sharply turning left, leading to places unknown. Walter tried the left door, which was apparently locked, and then tried the right. It opened, and Walter peeked. He pulled back after a second and turned around. "One" he whispered.
Hans nodded. "Allow me." Walter stepped aside and Hans moved up. He pushed the door open further and there stood the feral, twitching and growling, its back turned. It crouched down next a bench and Hans sighted in. His P38 sharply thundered in the tight space and the bullet hit the ghoul square between the shoulder blades, exiting through the base of its neck. It fell to the floor, dead, and Hans moved into the room.
"A locker room, eh? Don't mind if we do" Walter said, and began checking lockers for anything of value. Hilda stood watch by the door and, after a few minutes, Walter was done. His haul consisted of some silver watches, wrist and pocket, and a few cans of the usual chem for a place like this: Mentats.
"No surprises so far, let's keep going" Hans said. They crept down the hall to the corner and Walter took a look around the corner. He nodded and they continued, upright but moving slow. There was an open door on the right, and after a quick check to confirm it was clear Walter ducked inside.
"Custodian's closet. Tools, spare panes of glass for the exhibits, that sort of shit. Want any of it?" Walter asked, and Hans shook his head. "I might come back for one of the glass panes, get an artist to paint it up to look like a window. Better than staring at grey all day."
"Might want to keep your eye out for an actual painting, then. This is a museum, after all" Hilda said.
"We're mercs, not looters. Or connoisseurs. Come on, we're wasting time."
The three of them moved on, their pace a little quicker. They checked every door and every room, finding naught but sporadic loot and dust. After maybe half an hour they reached the other end of the basement complex and had nothing to show for it, and with just two doors remaining it wasn't looking good.
"Well, this room looks promising" Walter said, the three of them standing outside a pair of wood double doors. The rest of the doors in the basement had been steel, so there was a good chance there was an office or breakroom of some kind on the other side of the doors. Why someone would want to have an office in basement was beyond Hans' comprehension, but he was sure there was something inside.
"Let's try the other door first" he said, and Walter nodded. He tried the handle of the second door, a steel door like all the others, and it opened. He peeked through the crack and recoiled. "Ugh, found our ghouls" he said, and pushed the door all the way open. Hans and Hilda looked in and saw their ghouls, or what remained of them. Two dozen or so, all dead, piled haphazardly around the building's fusion generator. The room was pretty hot, so Hans figured they'd decay pretty fast. Well, decay for real, as opposed to the way ghouls usually decayed.
"Think they'll still pay us?" Hilda asked.
"Well, they didn't say we had to prove we were the ones that killed them. I'm curious about the other door, though. Let's have a look at that before we leave" Hans said, and they all turned back to the wood double doors.
They were locked.
"Of course they are" Hans said. There were windows on the doors, dusty and scratched to all Hell, obscuring the room within. Hans shrugged and knocked, and there was no response. He unslung his K98 and smashed out one of the windows with the stock and looked inside. The room beyond was an office, a desk opposite the door by a large window. The room was clear, so Hans reached in through the broken window and released the lock.
"Can't see why someone would put their office down here" Walter said as the three of them entered the room. To the left was a bookshelf, the books still mostly intact. To the right was a counter with some appliances; a hot plate, a coffee machine, a microwave, and some plates.
Hans approached the desk, his eyes on the window. It was large and circular, looking out on the depths of the river Spree. Once upon a time it was probably a beautiful view into clear water of fish and algae. Today the Spree was cloudy with pollution, so the window showed nothing but murky gray.
"I found a safe" Hilda said. She was standing by the counter, a cupboard door open. The safe was closed.
"Locked?"
She nodded.
"OK, I'll look for a key" Hans said, and sat behind the desk. There were some drawers, their contents boring ledgers and accounting books, now forever irrelevant. Only one drawer didn't have books in it, and it was empty. "No key here. Maybe it's somewhere else in the building."
"Or somewhere else in the country" Walter quipped. Hans closed all the drawers, stood, and looked out the window into the murky depths.
"Alright, well, I guess we'll take a look around, see if the station knows anything about it" Hans said, and together they all left the room. There was another staircase nearby which they ascended, the door at the top opening out on a hallway. To the right was the lobby, and to the left the hallway continued onward. It ended at an archway, the border of the arch declaring the room beyond to be an exhibit: 'The Unification: 1871 and Otto von Bismarck.'
"Back to the lobby" Hans said, and they headed down the hall. From there it was a short jog to the front door, back outside, and down to the street. They quickly made their way across the bridge and back to the DHM station.
*I've never liked how shotgun shells in Fallout are plastic, seeing as how what little petroleum was left in the world before The Bomb was reserved for military and government use. A more appropriate material would be paper, like commercial shotshells used to be made out of before the 1960's, or completely brass, like U.S military shotshells from the first and second World Wars.
