A soldier with his hair on fire ran past her, screeching sobs ripping themselves from his throat. She grabbed him, swinging him around with her strength and his momentum, and shoving him head first into a thicker bank of snow. There was a steaming sizzle as the fire was extinguished. He was still making that rough weeping sound, and she looked around furtively, before she punched him, knocking him out. She shoved him half in and half out of the snow. Maybe he'd get frostbite, but he'd be alive.
She could make out the large form of Ex, as well as the constantly changing size of Hans as they both tossed around men. There were whole tents and cannons being thrown around in mid-air, and she assumed that Dedrick was behind it.
"Wolfe!" she turned at the bark of her last name. Marcus and Fritz were struggling to hold three men. Fritz's eyes were practically beaming. "Hilfe halten Sie diese gedrückt . Ich habe etwas, was ich möchte, dass sie zu zeigen." Help hold them down. I have something I want to show them. Her mouth dried up, but knowing there was nothing she could do – lest she, and her mother were killed – she walked over. The three men looked up at her pleadingly, eyes filled with tears. One was clutching a torn photograph. She stood in front of him, and tugged it out of his grasp before Marcus or Fritz could see.
Roughly, she shoved him down, twisting his arms behind his back. With one hand she tucked the photograph into her pants. Fritz backhanded his own man, sending him sprawling. Marcus put a booted foot on his back, still holding his own struggling prisoner.
Fritz turned slowly to the man Adeline was holding. He squatted down, and gently caressed the man's cheek. "Don't vorry. Zis vill onlee brake your spirit." He said in heavily accented English. The man shuddered at the sinister smile that spread across Fritz's face. Fritz's eyes went black, as did the man's and suddenly he was shivering, tears rolling down his face, as he cowered back, trying desperately to get away from whatever Fritz had become. Adeline felt her own breath picking up as she watched the scene unfold.
After what felt like hours, Fritz let him out of his hold. The man was hyperventilating, breath sawing out of his throat. He mumbled something, that wasn't even a language. Adeline looked down at the slumped man, eyes heavy and prickling with tears. He was unhinged. Before she thought too hard about it, Adeline grasped his head and twisted sharply.
It was over in a second.
Fritz and Marcus looked taken aback, and so she shrugged, deliberately blasé. "Er war mir lästig." He was annoying me. They grinned, looking deeply amused by that single phrase. Adeline took a moment whilst Fritz was crouching down in front of Marcus' first man to turn away, and blink hard, banishing the tears from her eyes.
Adeline checked her watch again. They had another 20 minutes before they had been ordered to retreat. She honestly didn't know if there would be any point in Otto sending in their troops. There had been about 18,000 men in the encampment.
She estimated about half of that number were left standing. They had been here for seven and a half hours, and say what you will about the skill of each individual member, but the team as a whole was deadly efficient. 9000 men were dead or dying and it was because of a group of super powered individuals with no morale code and a thirst for blood.
Adeline turned and vomited next to a pair of charred corpses.
She was disgusting.
She was a murderer, a serial killer.
Before anything really registered other than a crippling wave of depression and self-hatred, she picked up a fallen pistol and placed it at her temple, pulling the trigger.
Her head exploded with pain and her vision went white.
Adeline's body dropped to the ground, and was still.
Minutes ticked past and everything was still on the far east side of the encampment. That had been hit first, and nothing moved.
Then the fallen woman, whose blonde hair had spread across the snow with her blood, began to stir.
Slowly, every extremity twitched back into feeling and life. Adeline opened her eyes, surprised at the beauty of the fresh snow that had fallen, masking the death of the corpses around her.
She didn't let herself acknowledge the overwhelming disappointment that she wasn't dead. Adeline stood, legs shaky. Her uniform was mostly destroyed, knife, bullet and shrapnel holes all over it.
Hooting and howling reached her, and then her squad came bouncing through the charred and ripped rows of tents, exuberant in their destruction.
She forced a smirk onto her face, and allowed Marcus to place a kiss on her cheek, his filthy fingers smearing her exposed upper arms. He touched the encrusted blood on her temple in question and she shrugged him off, pretending to laugh with Garin.
Adeline stared unblinking at the roof of her tent. The snow had stopped falling a while ago, and the sun was up, but her roof was heavy from the weight of snow on it, and it blocked out the light. But she couldn't sleep.
This had been their worst yet. She hadn't planned for all the death.
There was a throat clearing from outside her tent, and she looked to see a silhouette of a man displayed on the wall of her tent. She got up silently, reaching for her knife. Adeline crept to the entrance, and then whipped open the tent entrance. The weedy red head standing there jumped back in surprise, dropping a bunch of letters.
She ignored his sputtering apologies, and bent to pick up the letters. Her eyes fell immediately on a familiar name. Dr. Abraham Erskine.
"Für wen ist das?" Who is this for? Adeline demanded, shoving the letter under his nose.
"Uh, eine Gel-geliebte Wolfey." Uh, a mis-mistress Wolfey. The boy said in halting German. He had a strong foreign accent, and Adeline scowled in suspicion.
"Adeline Wolfe?"
"Yes – sorry – ja!" he nodded violently.
"Zat is me." She said shortly. She tucked the letter into her shirt, and cocked her head, moving forward slightly. "Vot iz your nem, boy? Who are you, zat is trusted to deliver ze letters but cannot speak German?"
He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing comically. "Ich bin Jonas. Ich bin neu." I am Jonas. I'm new. He said, less choppy than before.
"Willkommen in der Hölle, Jonas." Welcome to hell, Jonas. Adeline smiled at him grimly, and then turned and walked back into her tent.
She sat on her cot, and opened the envelope with shaking fingers.
Dear Adeline.
I have given this letter to someone I hope can be trusted.
They are watching my every move – and I am afraid for my family.
Schmidt has made me create a formula for his own usage, but despite my warning about side effects he is determined to become better, stronger, by any means.
I hate to think of you now – surrounded by those blood thirsty animals that disguise themselves as your allies. I know how they force you to do things, but please, consider that things are not as they seem…
I think I have found a solution to our joint imprisonment. I dare not say more, in case this is intercepted, but if I receive an untouched reply from you, then I will know I am safe to tell you more.
Yours in confidence,
Abraham.
Adeline could barely breathe.
Emotion making her vision blurry, she turned the short letter over, and began scribbling out a response.
Within a minute, she was sprinting after the retreating form of Jonas, red hair an easy target to spot.
"Hey! Jonas!" he turned at her voice, and she pretended to stumble into him. He caught her, and she shoved the letter into his hand, and whispered in his ear. "Plead get it to him sooner. Be caution." She said in halting English. He nodded, and she stepped away, avoiding the eyes of the other soldiers, and stalked away.
She could scarcely believe it. Abraham was still alive, and he might be able to get them out.
A genuine smile grew on her face, and the muscles twinged slightly, so long unused.