Well, I feel like I'm getting in the groove of writing for two hours every night before bed now. That's been a chapter a week man, this is good! Anyways, here we finally see some action as we get into the core of what the Arcadius Project actually does. If anyone wants information on it, I'll expose that over some later chapters, as right now there's gonna be some major action going on. That's right readers, Singularity Fuyuki.

This chapter clocked in at around 5,138 words when I was done. I finished with the idea that again, cliff hangers bring people in because they want to know what the heck is going on next, so sorry!

And now, the Reviewer's Reviewed!

To ZenoZen: Things are going to get a heck of a lot more real for Helmuth in the future my dude. Just you wait!

And that's all. Anyways, I should probably let you all get to reading now. Have fun!

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"What did you expect?" – Talking

'A war like no other?' – Thought

"Der Teufel selbst?" – Very bad Google Translate, or emphasis on speech

'Or just a bad dream?' – Written word

~ Maybe it was nothing at all. ~ – Radio Chatter

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A few hours later had Helmuth staring at the rifle in his hands.

Ok, so it was more like a small submachine gun, but it was the first firearm he'd picked up since he finished CompServ when he turned nineteen. Two whole years ago, a while if he thought about it.

The Machinenpistole 10 was a small, light-weight SMG used by support infantry and tank crews in the Heer. Chambered in the military standard 9x19mm round used by so many countries around the world, it was compact – about 20 centimeters in length from rear to barrel end – and hade a high cycle rate. That is to say, it fired around about 900 to 1,000 per minute, a veritable bullet hose. Very easy to use, easy to clean, and dead useful in close combat. Excellent for someone who hadn't been in a gunfight before.

Other than the MP10, he also had a 11.23mm-chambered pistol – the P12 – holstered under his left armpit, and a Panzerpunkt 9 multi-purpose launcher on his back.

Out of the other three members of his "unit", two held the standard G4A3 assault rifle of the Heer, and the third – Erhardt Muhlkampf – toted a MG5. Apparently, when this unit was put together, the higher ups thought that two riflemen, a squad gunner, and a Light Anti-Tank would work wonders; and by all accounts Helmuth was perfectly fine with that. The MP10 was easy enough to use, and the launcher was capable of destroying anything on land or in the air. Nevertheless…

"So, you're our LAT eh?" Muhlkampf commented as Helmuth quietly slipped on his brand-new combat boots – a part of his new uniform.

"That would be correct", he replied softly, wiggling his toes when he finished putting the boots on. "Question for you since we'll be playing Twenty Questions. When does this suit stop feeling so weird?"

The suit in question he was speaking about was his under-uniform: a skin-tight, black coloured piece of, what Helmuth assumed, was either latex or rubber. It was designed to protect the wearing against chemical and biological hazards, such as other dimensional pathogens that would wreck havoc on a person. A full-body suit, it covered the whole body, with the exception of the face which would be covered by a gasmask. And for Helmuth, it itched.

"That's a good question Green," Muhlkampf mused, rubbing his chin. "I'd say after your first sortie? I stopped caring about after a couple hours, it sort of becomes a second skin you know? That's what the doc's call it too: Zweitehaut."

"Alright then."

"I personally wouldn't worry about it Green," Muhlkampf continued, slipping on a pair of trousers over his under-uniform, "Where we'll be going, and what you'll be seeing, you'll stop thinking about that suit in due time."

Helmuth grunted in a slight agreement, throwing on a military issue overcoat on top of the regular-issue uniform he had steadily put on. Slipping on the holster for his P12 and standing up from the bench, Helmuth turned to look at the other two members of the squad.

Max Mannheim was almost as tall as he was, and had a shock of dusty red hair hidden underneath his under-uniform. He had barely said a word when Helmuth had tried to introduce himself earlier, merely going through the paces of checking and cleaning his rifle. The scars he had on the left side of his face, as well as the identification tags that hung around his neck suggested he was ex-military, but Helmuth saw no other glaring factor to support that claim. Unless he got the answer from the man's own mouth – which was unlikely, as Muhlkampf had quietly informed him not to pry.

Elma Hertzog, on the other hand, was a punch of fresh activity in the room. A rainbow fauxhawk was the most eye-catching thing on her head, as she chose not pull the hood of the under-uniform over her head. Off in the corner of the changing room, she was bouncing on the balls of her feet, hopping back and forth to an invisible tune. Adorning her face were several small tattoos, and a nose piercing as well. All of this gave her a rather punkish style to her, which Helmuth digged. It looked good on her.

Nevertheless, he knew none of the people in this room honestly, and while they might've known each other, he was a stranger. Strange enough, sure, but now he and these strangers were going to go through space and time itself to somewhere no one on this planet had been before. It was going to be awkward before anything got solid.

"So what kind of music do you like?" Elma asked suddenly from her corner, still dancing to her own tune.

Helmuth started, "Erm, music? I like classic rock, if that's what you're asking."

"Umh," Elma hummed, shaking her head, "That can't be all the genres you like! Name some bands, other genres, different songs! I wanna know!"

"Well, I also like swing music," Helmuth began, thinking, "and there's classical as well. For bands and songs? I'd have to say Geschutz is my favourite band, while my favourite song would have to be Gerald's Opus Fourteen in A Major. I feel like that song's thick enough."

Elma laughed. "'Thick enough'? Are you describing a girl or a song?"

"What I mean is, the song itself and the notes get to such a point that it feels thick, saturated. But in a good way! Like the ceiling itself would fall if you turned it up too much." Helmuth explained, blushing.

Elma continued to laugh, before Muhlkampf coughed.

"Lay off the Greenie," he stated, doing up his combat helmet, "He might be new, but he's our LAT guy. We'll need him around to save your ass Elma, remember that."

"Ja, ja, Muhlkampf, got it in one."

Another silence as the quartet continued to gear up, until finally, they were ushered out of the changing room by several scientists attached to Arcadius. The march to the place that Helmuth now knew as the teleportation room – or the Gateroom as Dr. Schiessman called it – was quick and quiet, the only noise being the marching boots on Helmuth's feet echoing in the halls.

Entering into the Gateroom via a door below the Hive, the quartet continued until they stood underneath the teleportation apparatus hanging from the roof of the room. The two scientists who had escorted them there hung back by the doors, slipping back out of the room and securing the only entrance into the room. It was only after the doors were hermetically locked that Muhlkampf spoke up next to Helmuth.

"Alright, listen up Greenie, because I'll only be explaining this once," he began, standing stock still. "When the shrinks get the whole thing going, do not move a muscle. If you do so, there's a good chance you might get, what we call, telefragged. You know what that is?"

"Yessir," Helmuth replied, standing still as well, "I've played enough video games to know about that issue with teleportation."

"Good," continued Muhlkampf, "Now, after we teleport, we'll form a perimeter, secure the location, and followed the standard orders. Those will be: one, actively scout the surrounding area for hostiles; two, setup a base camp and night rotation; and three, if possibly contact the locals and their governments. Get that?"

Helmuth nodded once, "Got it. Question for you though, what'll it feel like?"

Muhlkampf just grinned. "You'll figure that out."

The reply from Helmuth was a cuss that made Mannheim chuckle to himself, while Muhlkmapf just flipped him off.

It was then that Helmuth's ears picked up a quiet whine that was starting to pick up in volume. Beside him, the other three quickly strapped their gasmask onto the helmets, forcing Helmuth to do the same. Underneath the helmet and mask, the whine was subdued somewhat, but continued to increase with every three seconds or so. Static burst into Helmuth's ears, and after a few seconds more, Dr. Schiessman's voice broke through.

~ Radio check. ~

~ Clear. ~ Came Muhlkampf.

~ Check. ~ Came Mannheim.

~ Clear and loud! ~ Came Hertzog.

~ Jawohl. ~ Helmuth responded.

~ Gutt, now, listen up. ~ Dr. Schiessman began calmly, ~ This venture will be a new one for you all. The details are a little fuzzy, as we haven't had the time to send any probes through. Therefore, I want you all on your toes. We'll be monitoring everything from here as usual, and if we deem it dangerous enough we'll pull you back. Now, the dimension itself is hereby listed as D-004-01, and if you're all lucky, it'll be close enough like our own in terms of atmosphere and geological composition. If you find anything interesting, by all means keep a hold of it for research. Standard operations procedures are also in place, so make peaceful contact fi you can. Now, I believe that is all, best of luck to you all. ~

Another voice rang through the radio, this one much more metallic and robotic sounding that Dr. Schiessman, as it counted down.

~ 9. ~

~ 8. ~

~ 7. ~

Oh Gods, what had he gotten himself into? Truly?

~ 5. ~

Was it too late to back out?

~ 3. ~

Why did he get the feeling that Muhlkampf was grinning at him?

~ 1. ~

Zero.

And like that, Helmuth felt a thousand stinging needles, pins, knives, swords, and any other sharp thing his screaming mind could supply stab into him as a bright green light poured over him. They were ripping him apart, tearing at his body! His soul! The pain, it was nothing he ever felt before! He could feel each individual molecule – Burning pain!

!

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And like that, it was over. The lights, the screaming – had that been his own? – and the static was all over.

The pain was gone, and Helmuth felt himself lying on his back, gasping deeply. Above him was the smiling – but worried – face of Elma Hertzog, gently propping him up. Her mouth moved, but Helmuth could hear nothing. He panicked, tearing at his ears. Oh Gods, had they – ?

Hertzog merely unclasped Helmuth's mask, gently ripping it from his face.

"Better?" She asked, smiling softly.

"Why," Helmuth gasped, still choking for breath, "why can't I breathe? I-I, how can I hear you now?"

"Take it easy," Elma said, propping Helmuth against a wall, "The first time's always a different kind of Hell. How many fingers?"

She held three of her fingers before Helmuth's eyes.

"Drei" he replied, keeping a hand pressed against his erratically beating heart. "W-What the fuck was that? It felt like –"

"Blades?" she asked, grinning like an imp, "Molecular disintegration, at least that's what the scientists call it. From what I can gather, the teleportation system rips you apart at a molecular level, throwing you through time and space, before reforming you perfectly in another location. Very painful the first time around, but your body gets used to it after one or two jumps."

"And the breathing problems?"

"Nothing bad I hope?"

Helmuth shook his head, slowly standing up. "Out of breath, getting it back. Where are we?"

"That," Hertzog answered, "I do not know. I can't find Erhardt or Max either. It's just the two of us in here."

Casting an eye around, Helmuth noted that they were indeed the only living beings in the room. It was large, cavernous really, and very dark. A single light shone above what looked like a large casket in the middle of the room, raised above the floor on a large pyramid. Other than that, Helmuth could only see a large vault door on the wall to his right, a red carpet leading from the door up a pair of stairs to the casket. It looked… Cultish.

He said so to Elma.

"Well, yeah. It is a bit creepy," she answered. "I tried too, there's no way we'll be able to get out of here either. That door is the only way in or out of this room, and there's no controls on this side."

"We're stuck?" Helmuth asked incredulously.

"Mhm. We'll need to wait for – what are you doing?" Hertzog began, before pausing to inquire what Helmuth was doing.

What he was doing was simply walking over to the vault door, leaning an ear up against it and rapping a hand against it. The resounding echo that rang out through the room only had Helmuth shake his head and lean off the door.

"Fuck," Helmuth whispered, before turning to Hertzog. "We are stuck."

"Of course we are!" She replied angrily, "Why the fuck did you need to knock though?"

"Uh, to check how thick it was," Helmuth answered honestly, "This rocket launcher's HEAT warhead can penetrate like, four hundred millimetres of steel right? If the door had been thin enough, I could've punched a hole through the lock and we could've just opened it."

Hertzog just stared. "And why aren't we doing that?"

"Door's too thick."

"Just like Gerald's Op. Fourteen, right?" Came the simple response.

"Ah, fuck you," Helmuth laughed, making his way over to the staircase that lead to the casket. "Let's see what this thing is and try and contact Mannheim and Muhlkampf."

With a murmur from Hertzog that sounded like she was asking who had died and made him the leader, the two of them slowly made their way up the staircase, pausing in front of the casket.

It was made of, surprisingly, steel and glass. Standing upwards, the glass was covered in biohazard yellow coloured tape, obscuring any view into it. The tape itself had the international – now interdimensional in Helmuth's mind – biohazardous symbol, as well as weird lettering. Besides that, there stood a terminal next to the casket, the monitor running, with large cables hooked into the casket or winding upwards into the ceiling.

"What a weird thing this is," Helmuth commented off hand. "Wonder what's inside."

"At least I know what those words are," Elma responded with a grin, pointing to the biohazard tape. "Apparently it's kanji, the scripture of the Japanese people from the last world I'd been to."

"Can-gee?" Helmuth asked, scrunching his nose up as he tried to pronounce it correctly, "It's their alphabet, right?"

"More-or-less," came the nonchalant reply, "It's more like one of three of them I think. Anyways, if the tape's in kanji, then the computer must be too. Hang on one sec!"

With that, Hertzog turned her attention to the keyboard of the computer, and began clacking away.

As she busied herself with that, Helmuth made up his mind to take another approach. Unholstering his MP10, he withdrew the bulky silencer for it from his combat pack, threading the almost-forearm length silencer onto the end of the MP10's barrel. With it securely in place, he pulled back the charging handle on the right of the receiver, and unfolded the stock.

Taking a quick glance at the glass front of the casket, he calmly placed the silenced machine pistol's barrel what he thought to be the locking mechanism for the sliding glass pane. Quietly disengaging the safety, and flipping his firing choice to semi-automatic, he pulled the trigger.

A loud echoing thwump!, much quieter than the actual retort of the SMG due to the silencer, echoed throughout the room, startling Hertzog who was right next to Helmuth, heavily absorbed in the computer. A quiet crackling of glass followed soon after, before Helmuth merely swung the butt of the folding stock around against the glass, shattering it.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Hertzog whispered urgently, grabbing Helmuth's arm.

"Smash and grab," came his calm reply, picking some of the broken glass away. "I figured that if it truly was biohazardous like the tape says, we'd have noticed by now, neh? Also, isn't one of our directives securing technology? This could be some sort of bioweapon."

"Or," Hertzog began, still fuming as Helmuth tore through the tape that had been behind the glass, "it could be something else like a – a school uniform?"

Indeed, it was just that, a schoolgirl's uniform. Blue and white, with golden accents, it sat within a suit cover on a hanger within the casket, thoroughly confusing both Helmuth and Elma. The two stared at for a while, before Helmuth shrugged and reached over, unzipping Hertzog's pack as she had joined beside him to stare at the uniform in shock. Swiftly swiping the coat hanger and its package off the bar, he folded the uniform twice over, before stuffing it into her rucksack.

"There," he commented, "secured. Now, let's see about getting the heck out and linking up with Muhlkampf, ja?"

Before Hertzog could nod at that, a blaring alarm rang out, and the light above them bathed the room in a deep red glow.

Cursing loudly at this, the two turned their attention to the vault door, which had begun to unlock at the sound of the alarm. With Hertzog readying her rifle, Helmuth did the same, taking cover behind the casket as Hertzog did the same on the other side.

It was a few tense seconds as the door slowly unlocked, and then swung open with a deep groan. Before Hertzog could even attempt to announce their presence, a gout of flame launched itself from the still opening door, scorching into the casket.

Helmuth gave a shriek, cowering as he felt the flames lick at his uniform.

"Flammenwerfer!" Hertzog yelled, merely peeking her rifle around the corner of the casket and letting off a burst of fire. "Fire at it you dick!"

"Got it!" Helmuth replied, swinging his MP10 around the corner and letting the bullet hose open up for him.

The silenced retort of the machine pistol was dwarfed by the sound of the flamethrower, as well as Hertzog's own rifle, but a loud scream sounded out before the fire stream stopped. Not bothering to peer out into the entrance, Helmuth changed the magazine on his SMG – which had emptied rather quickly spraying in full-auto – before deciding to holster it.

Nodding towards Hertzog, he called out "Get the Hive, tell them to pull us!" before unshouldering the Panzerpunkt. Flipping the safeties off, as well as raising up the peephole sight, he leaned out of cover, staring down the sight at the entrance to the room.

Now slowly regrouping was a force of at least twenty soldiers, all equipped with assault rifles. Having been pinned down by Hertzog's sporadic fire, and having only one way to enter into the room itself, they now were slowly moving forwards, rifles raised. This couldn't have been more that perfect for Helmuth, aiming directly for the center of the group of faceless infantry. Depressing the trigger on the launcher, a great gout of flame licked at his back from the rear of the weapon, followed by a great whoosh as the high explosive/dual purpose rocket accelerated at the group.

Taking cover the second after the rocket left the launcher's barrel, Helmuth was spared the sight of an 90mm anti-tank rocket slamming into a group of people before detonation. He was sadly not spared the sickening sound of blood, gore, and limbs being thrown this way and that with a splatter after the explosion. Nor was he spared the sound of a few quick screams, followed soon after by loud screams from those who had survived whatever Hell had kept them alive.

Freezing at these noises, Helmuth shuddered in on himself, shouldering the launcher on his back while Hertzog stepped out from behind the casket's cover. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, the cacophony of sounds assaulting his ears and puncturing his mind. All those men, screaming because of what he had done. Would it have been easier if they all died quickly? Some of them could have been –

He was startled as gunfire rang out once more. However, it was not the sound of combat, but rather Hertzog, walking to the sight of the carnage, executing the remainder of the enemy. Helmuth chose not to watch, huddling closer into himself.

When Hertzog returned, Helmuth tried to cover up a sob, before he was pulled to his feet.

A sharp pain raced across his face as she slapped him, jolting him, and she gave him a pitying smile.

"The first time around is a different kind of Hell," she merely stated, echoing her words fifteen minutes prior, "but you get used to it after a while. Now, we're still on a mission here. Whoever those thugs were, they came in here to kill. I've contacted the Hive, and they're pulling Muhlkampf out. Mannheim is KIA, and we'll be pulled next, so get your headset on. When they give the signal, we'll be back and you can rest, ok?"

She gently pat his shoulder, before pulling him in for a hug.

"You were damn fine for your first time around," she explained, "I've had NCOs in the Heer who shat their pants at the first sign of combat, but you kept it together until the end."

"It was – it was easy," Helmuth answered truthfully, hiccupping, "It was just like a game, but they're – they're… I know this'll sound, sound insane, but does it get easier?"

Hertzog shook her head. "Nope. For some it never will."

This caused Helmuth to droop a bit, but he silently slipped his earpiece back in, listening to the chatter from the radio for a bit. He quietly stepped off to the side a moment later, retching.

A half minute later, Dr. Schiessman's voice rang through.

~ Muhlkampf secure, get ready for transport you two. ~

"Roger that," Hertzog responded, standing still. "Ready for relay, Hertzog and von Trotha, let's get home Command."

A burst of light, the feeling of knives, and Helmuth saw nothing more.

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It was a week later that saw Helmuth and Elma reunited with Muhlkampf, who had spent some time in the infirmary due to injuries he had sustained in the mission. The man had looked worse for wear, slightly unshaven and with a stitch across his left eyebrow. The three of them had met up in the mess hall, and quietly swapped accounts of what had happened. For Helmuth and Elma, Muhlkampf commended the two for grabbing things that could be used, and how tacitly they handled the situation. When Hertzog tried to pry Muhlkampf about what had happened to Mannheim, he did nothing but ask Helmuth:

"It wasn't nothing, was it Green?"

When Helmuth replied that it had been nothing, the veteran nodded – looking twice his age – before continuing on, purposefully averting Elma's question.

Helmuth's snag in that mission – the school uniform – had been snatched from Hertzog's kit the second they returned to the base. It was whisked away by a team of shrinks, never to be seen again by the duo. Nevertheless, a day before they were tasked with another "outing", Helmuth got a surprise in the mail at his apartment.

Mail from his older brothers, Emil and Benjamin, which surprised him.

In the first package, Emil merely wrote that he was proud his little brother had finally managed to stand on his own, congratulating him on getting a job away from his family. He wished to see him on some holidays, but he knew that the new job Helmuth had was a busy one, being a secretary at GKI for one of the head scientists.

Benjamin, on the other hand, stated what a pussy he was for running away from his problems. However, he conceded that sometimes one needed time away from the issues of the world, and needed another lease on life for a bit. But really, a secretary? Couldn't you have gotten a better job as something else? Also, your younger sisters miss you already, don't forget to send them a letter or you'll make them sad, you Fotze.

The letters were also accompanied by two packages, one from each brother.

From Emil, came – surprisingly – his esteemed hunting rifle, the Eberkönig. It had been Emil's first ever hunting rifle, back when father had taken his three sons on regular hunting trips in the fall. A triple-barreled Hasselvander rifle/shotgun combo, it was almost the entire length of Helmuth's height ending just slightly short of his neck. The metal of the barrel was a sterling silver, with inlays grafted into the pinewood stock. There was a reason Emil called it the Boar King after all, he had put hundreds of CUDs into modifying it. Instead of the regular 7.92mm rifle round and the two 12 gauge rounds it fired, the third barrel that sat under the double shotgun barrels had been enlarged and rechambered for 12 gauge.

From Benjamin came his first revolver: Mitternachtskönigin, the Midnight Queen. Originally it had been a simple 9x33mm Rimmed revolver from Doerr, but much like his older brother, Benjamin had put money into it. The barrel had been lengthened to nine inches, and weighted, the action had been replaced to be double-action, and the grip had been replaced with a more ergonomic handle. The biggest changes however, had been to the finish on the revolver, and the caliber. The caliber had been upgraded from its original 9x33mm round to the impressively large .454 Vergoldung round, adding tat extra amount of oomph to each shot. The finish on the other hand had been deeply blued, so much so that it was almost blacked, only a slight pearlescent showing off the deep blue.

Both of these weapons were accompanied by a smaller letter from both brothers, explaining that if anything were to happen, to use both the Midnight Queen and the Boar King to protect himself, and to keep both weapons safe.

Making a promise to do so, Helmuth quickly penned a letter for the whole family, explaining he was well and all, and he'd try and write twice a month at least. He wrote to his sisters that he was ok, and, if it were possible, he'd love to have them over to his Neo-Brunhammer apartment to visit.

The next day brought even more gifts for Helmuth. New things from the R&D Department at GKI were presented to the now three-man squad, and they were explained to the trio.

"The first one," explained a nondescript scientist, holding up a buzzing battery filed with wires and filaments, "is an Active Relay Location device, or an ARL if you want. Simply put, this is a one-way trip back to the Hive if you feel your life is in critical danger. You simply stab this plunger here," he pointed to the tri-pronged plunger on one end, "before depressing the button on the other end and the ARL will zap you away back here."

The other device was an earpiece and microphone to go with their gasmask, as well as a wrist-computer. As the scientist explained, "This is a Universal Translation Device, the UTD. All you grunts need to know is that the wrist-computer will run through a select amount of languages installed in it until it finds the right one, where then what ever you will input into the microphone will be sent out as the selected language. On the other end, anything that is heard by the UTD will be translated back into our native language and be heard by you through the earpiece."

"Impressive," groused Muhlkampf, "These would've been useful on the D-002 trip."

"I'll have you know that the information you collected that mission helped craft these," the scientist replied. "And it took us quite a while to get everything in working order, even if these are prototypes."

"Danke, then," Helmuth responded with a nod, "I'm sure these will help us perfectly on the next outing."

"Alright, enough dallying," Hertzog stated, "I got that itch to go again, so come on! Let's get going!"

"Where exactly are we going today?" Helmuth asked plainly, securing the tech onto his body before equipping his mask.

"D-005-1," came Muhlkampf's muffled voice, "Standard op as usual, except we're gonna be sticking together this time around."

"Good to know," Helmuth laughed as they entered the Hive," I'll be glad to have you by my side this time around Herr Muhlkampf."

"Back at it again with this Herr crap, eh Green?" Muhlkampf replied with a chuckle, "Cut it out, will you?"

"Sure, sure."

The radio checks – just like last time – went through, only an awkward pause when glancing over Mannheim's spot since he was no longer there. Nevertheless, Arcadius whirred to life, whining like a engine that needed a serious oiling, before the sensation of knives pierced Helmuth's entirety, bathing him in the light once more as the trio disappeared to the next great adventure.

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Cracking his eyes open with a painful groan, Helmuth shook himself awake, before standing up. Beside him were both Muhlkampf and Hertzog, which was good, and a quick glance around showed that they were currently in a bar.

A former bar at that, if the flames licking at the back walls was anything to go by. The windows looking outside were covered in silt and soot, which Helmuth found out as he used his gloved hand to wipe at them.

~ Sitrep. ~ Came Muhlkampf's voice over the radio.

~ Alles gut. ~ Both Helmuth and Hertzog replied, readying their weapons.

~ Good to hear. ~ Muhlkampf responded, looking to the fire, then the door. ~ Think that shotgun will be of use Green? ~

~ Well, considering they didn't give me a launcher like last time, ~ Helmuth began, jostling the Eberkönig which was slung on his back, ~ I sure fucking hope so. Else we might be screwed if we encounter armour. ~

~ Here's hoping not. ~ Hertzog joked, before moving to the entrance and pushing it open.

Steadily filing out of the burning building – A bar named Copenhagen, Helmuth noted – the trio were greeted to Hell on Earth.

All around them the city was burning. Carcasses covered the streets, both skeletal and some not so much. Vehicles were upturned, windows were smashed open on buildings, papers – on fire or not – blew through the air. When the trio unclasped their masks, they were greeted to the stench of burnt flesh and smoke. The entire place looked like a war zone. The only thing that drew visible confusion on Muhlkampf's face – Helmuth was, once again, off to the side retching at the stench – was the complete lack of noise. No screams, no gunfire, no one or anything at all. It was…

Quiet.

And then Helmuth turned his attention down the street, to where a sharp whistling then filled his ears.

Set upon the back drop of a soot, smoke covered, and dusky red sky, spears of blood lanced towards them.

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Woof, spicy.

Was that a reference in Dimension-004? Who knows?

Also, it totally was a reference. Why wouldn't I? We won't know what the heck happened to Muhlkampf and Mannheim until later, in the grand scheme of things I suppose. Muhlkampf will probably explain everything next chapter after Helmuth pries some more, after all they're teammates, right?

Also, with this who interdimensional project idea I got going on, that opens up my universe to several others, some of which we might see in separate fics later on down the line if I feel up to it. And if you all wanna see them, of course. Anyways, I should go now. Thanks for reading!

Remember to follow, favourite, and review please! I absolutely love to respond to commenters! If you got questions I'd love to answer them!

Ciao!