Chapter 10: Clockwork Monstrosity (Pak)
When Yuri wanted something done, she had it her way. I never liked being down in the Guild, and I hated my chances against Angel even more. That was saying a lot. If I were lucky, there would still be some operational artillery pieces left. If I weren't lucky—and I usually wasn't—then things looked grim indeed.
The last time I defeated Angel, I had a Pak 36 anti-tank gun and the entire Battlefront supporting me. This time, I had only my ordinance weapons. The conditions inside the Guild weren't great for combat either. The dim lighting and twisting hallways made it hard to aim firearms. Close-quarters melee combat was the norm, and Angel was exceedingly good at it. Her "blade tornado" could destroy squads within mere seconds.
The door to the Tunnels shut behind me. I loaded my weapons onto the sidecar of the Guild motorcycle and started the engine. It was one of my newest creations—a BMW R75 motorcycle and sidecar combination. It was powerful enough to haul equipment but compact enough to fit inside the Tunnels. It was also very fast and easy to ride. I put on my helmet and sped down the Tunnels leading to the Guild.
Angel was running wild there. The entire Guild was on fire. Bright orange flames enveloped the machines. The stamping machine I designed was in pieces, and my squaring sheer was spewing out thick, black smoke. Through the smoke, I could see a few figures fighting back against Angel. Only a few. Most were lying motionless on the ground, some in pools of blood. Gunfire and screams echoed through the cavern.
Then, a canon fired. It was one of the Pak 36 guns. Angel deflected the shot. The round crashing into an overturned front-end loader and exploded, sending burning pieces of metal into the air. Another canon fired from the opposite direction. Angel somersaulted and sent the round crashing into the dirt. She wasn't going to fall for the same trick twice.
I ran down the closest staircase leading down to the ground floor, trying to find the survivors. Angel hadn't noticed me yet, and I made sure to keep my distance.
"Pak! Perfect timing!" Chaa called out, waving at me. He was couching behind a large gear press, taking shots at Angel with a modern assault rifle I couldn't quite identify. "Did you bring more backup?"
"Backup won't be coming anytime soon." I replied as I set up my Pzb 39 bipod on a nearby table, "I told you that we should have made more motorcycles."
"Well then, Professor Genius-sama," Chaa replied sarcastically, "What's your brilliant plan?"
"How many people do we have left?"
"Fourteen, including us two. Everyone else has either been killed by Angel or exploding machinery. Sandra and Yim both bought it when that giant stamping machine of yours exploded." Chaa peeked out from behind the press and fired a brief burst from his rifle. The shells just bounced harmlessly off of Angel's shield.
"I was planning on doing the cannon-in-the-back trick I used last time," I replied, "But it appears that you've already tried that."
"Angel's is smart. She learns from experience, just like we do." Chaa fired another short burst from his assault rifle and then crouched to reload. "Except that our side is full of morons," he added as an afterthought.
Peering down the scope of my rifle, I put Angel in the middle of the crosshairs and squeezed the trigger. The rifle boomed and kicked into my shoulder. Angel deflected the speeding shot with one of her wrist blades. She turned to look at me with the same expressionless eyes. Through the scope, I could see that her lips were moving. She was trying to say something to me, but her voice was drowned out by the gunfire. Another round from a Pak 36 flew in. It was a miss. The explosive shell hit the ground in front of Angel and exploded, spewing dust and metal fragments into the air.
When the dust cleared away, I saw Angel with her arms raised over her head, as if she were surrendering. But her blades were crossed in an ominous x. Her lips moved again, more slowly this time. She was speaking in English. I could distinctly make out the word "howling". The air around her began to ripple. The machines around her began to buckle and crack. A half-ton drill press was lifted was its foundations and slid across the floor in a trail of sparks. The ground itself started vibrating. I instinctively ducked behind the table and covered my ears.
I didn't know anything about Angle's special skill, but the resemblance between the ripples and blast waves was enough to convince me to take cover. I had been bombed so many times that "duck and cover" became second nature. Unfortunately, though, not everyone had the same instincts. Too many, including, Chaa, could only stare in awe.
Less than a second later, the wave of sound struck. It was unlike anything I had ever heard. It was only one pitch, but it sounded neither mechanical nor human. It was like the scream of a demon. The scope on my rifle sight shattered, and the light bulbs on the ceiling blew out. Chaa was knocked back into the side of a foraging press. Dirt, glass and burning debris fell around on us. Chaa was bleeding from the back of his head and ears—that was when I noticed that my ears were bleeding, too, and that I could no longer hear anything. I knew—from Chaa's face—that he was screaming at me and that he was trying to tell me to do something.
What did he want me to do? I wondered, listening to the pain in my ears. Chaa looked like he was about to lose consciousness. My ears finally cleared; there was a popping or a ripping sound, as if my ears were late in echoing the explosion.
"Stop her! You're our last... hope…" Chaa screamed. His speech became slurred, and his body went limp. I tried to shake him, but it only worsened the bleeding. He was still breathing, but I feared that he wasn't going get up any time soon.
It was only then that I noticed that the Guild had gone quiet. All the guns had fallen silent. I really was the only one left. The only sounds were the crackling of the fires and Angel's approaching footsteps. She wasn't far off anymore. I took out my MP40 and aimed it at her. I put my finger on the trigger but stopped short of firing. A nearby crane buckled under the flames and collapsed with a metallic thud. The lattice boom fell between us, blocking Angle's path with searing hot metal.
"What was that, Angel?" I shouted at her, "What did you do?"
"That was my newest guard skill—Howling. It produces a sound wave programmed to incapacitate everyone in a 100-meter radius. I'm impressed that you're unhurt," She commented in her usual monotone voice. I guess that she didn't notice the blood oozing out of my ears. She extended her wrist blades but could not get any closer.
"Why?" I gritted through my teeth, "What are you planning to do to everyone?"
"To make them pass on," She replied, "To allow them to move on from the misery they faced in their past life." Her vacant looks made me wonder if she even understood the concept of misery, much less the concept of empathy.
"You're trying to obliterate them. What makes you think that you have the right to do such a thing, you clockwork monstrosity?"
"I'm the Student Body President," She replied, "I'm just another human, like you."
"Liar! You're nothing but an android. A mishmash of circuits and servos. Don't you even dare to mention us in the same breath. I am a human. I still have that one trait that puts me in ascendance even above the gods."
"What would that be?"
"It is my will that drives me. Machines obey the commands of others. Without the dreams of others to keep you going, you would shamble to a halt. So long as I am propelled forward by my own, unadulterated will, I am heir to something you can only steal. Within me rests a human soul and a human's will, precious beyond all worth. Machines can be broken, Fräulein President, but the will triumphs. It has always triumphed, and it will always triumph."
"That's an interesting speech," She replied, "But I'm not a machine. You've killed me once. You've seen my blood."
"Funny enough," I said, "I don't remember anything that happened after I fired that shot. Why don't you go cut your arm off with that buzz saw over there? That'll remind me."
As I expected, Angel didn't laugh. "Why do you continue to resist?"
"Because my will drives me to. I want to create world in which people like you don't exist. A world where people can live as equals. Power originally came from the people, but tyrants, no, machines like you took stole it. Your existence is the crime. You must die so that people may live." The passage was a combination of Louis de Saint-Just and Maximillian Robespierre. Their speeches once brew thunderous applause from crowds of thousands, but my audience was silent. Even though Angel didn't reply, I could see that she had no intensions of backing down. I had no interest in keeping up the charade either. I had bought myself enough time to think of a plan.
I bowed sarcastically. "Applaud, mein President-sama, the comedy is finished." I adjusted my aim and pressed the trigger. The Schmeisser, as the Allied soldiers called it, spew forth a stream of bullets in Angel's direction. They bounced harmlessly off of Angel's shield. I followed up with another brief burst. The bullets bounced again. Her shield was just too tough.
I took out a smoke grenade from my belt, pulled the pin, and threw it at Angel. Her shield did a great job of protecting her, but it also made her slow. The grenade exploded and spew out a thick layer of white smoke. It was perfect for my getaway.
I took off towards my design bureau, taking occasional a few potshots at Angel in the process. When I saw that she was following me, I dropped another smoke grenade. The gunfire gave her a rough idea of where I was, but the smoke slowed her down.
My design bureau was located in what used to be a cavern shaft dug for supplying dirt. It was roughly the size of Mittelwerk, and its size and isolation made it ideal for testing new weapons. The entrance was guarded by a large bolted door even thicker than Guild main entrance door. I designed it after a bank vault. It was built to guard against fire and explosions and did its job more than once. Whether it was going to hold against Angel was less certain, but it didn't need to. I just needed to buy myself a little bit more time.
The vault door slammed shut behind me with a loud clang. Angel banged furiously on the thick metal. One of her blades pierced the door, producing a shower of sparks. Rather than breaking the lock, she was trying to cut a hole in the door itself. For someone her size, the latter was a much quicker option.
I quickly made my way to my chemistry laboratory within the design bureau. That lab was stocked with equipment "liberated" from Dr. Fuse's lab. I could make most of what I needed from dirt, but stealing was much easier. Also, dirt could not be used to create compounds that exist as gasses at standard temperature and pressure. I had to get my oxygen, acetylene, nitrogen, and noble gases from tanks in the school lab. None of them, though, had much to do with the plan I had in mind.
Stacked among the tanks were a hodgepodge of barrels, buckets, and jars containing an assortment of different chemicals. One stack of buckets—store in a corner of the door, behind a plastic partition—were bright pink and labelled with GirlDeMo stickers. Yui had begged me to make some fireworks for the GirlDeMo performances. I thought that it was a waste of time, but her puppy eyes had a hypnotic power. Yuri approved as well, since the fireworks could also be used as flares and diversions. I developed all the necessary chemicals but never had enough time to put them into the finished product. It didn't matter anymore, though. They had more than one use.
The increasing volume of the bangs on the main door told me that time was running out. I grabbed a few of pink buckets and bottles and hastily stacked them by the laboratory door. I didn't bother closing it; if Angel could break through the main doors, she would have no problem breaking through the chemistry lab door. Then, I took out a small glass vial of a white crystals and gently placed it on the ground near the door. The vial was no bigger than a small vacuum tube, but it contained the what was easily most dangerous chemical in the Guild. I covered up the vial by with a pile of magnesium sulfate.
Angel broke through the main vault door as I was emptying the magnesium sulfate bucket. We stared at each other for about a second. Then, she dashed towards me with the speed of a strafing de Havilland Mosquito. I took out my pistol and fired two shots at her. She deflected both shots with her blades.
I leaped back into my chemistry lab, careful to jump over the glass vial. I nearly slipped on the magnesium sulfate but managed to regain my balance at the last second. I had to parkour over three lab benches and took cover behind a metal desk in the far corner of the room. I readied my Schmeisser and aimed it at the door.
As I predicted, Angel followed suit. I fired a short burst at her, but her shields were deployed. The bullets ricocheted. One of them hit the light switch and broke the circuit, plunging the room into complete darkness.
"Come get me!" I taunted Angel, loading a new clip into my MP 40, "Get me, and you win." My voice was trembling from both fear and exhaustion. Angel didn't reply, but I could hear her approaching footsteps. I plugged my bleeding ears, closed my eyes, and dropped to the floor.
The room exploded a second later. The boom was so powerful that it knocked over all the chemical vials in the room, and the light was so bright that I was able to feel it in my blind eye, through the eyepatch. Shards of glass and an assortment of liquids rained down from the shelves. An acrid, burning stench filled the silent room.
I slowly got up and looked across the lab bench. Sure enough, Angel was no longer standing there. The explosion had destroyed a large section of the wall and most of the lights in the hallway. A few small chemical fires were the only illumination for the pile of rubble that covered Angel's body. The first part of my plan had worked wondrously.
I grinned as I slowly found my way across what was left of the room. The glass vial contained only 10g of silver fulminate. Usually, it would not have been enough to cause so much damage, but Angel's shield trapped most of the blast waves. The blasts, when enclosed, would have been able to ignite the GirlDeMo pyrotechnics in the pink barrels. Most of the chemicals were not very explosive, but they gave off bright flashes of light when burned. They were meant to blind Angel, in case the explosion alone was not enough to bring her down.
The combination turned out to be overkill. The falling debris was more than enough to knock out Angel. Only her head was not covered by debris, and she wasn't moving. Her body was in the center of a perfectly round crater in the ground, which marked the extent of her shields. Her shields might have saved her from our bullets, but it also made her vulnerable to internal explosions. Her strongest defense also proved to be her downfall.
I tried to lift the concrete slab covering Angel, and it didn't budge. The debris was more than enough to keep her trapped for a while, but I didn't want to take any chances. I went back to the explosives closet and rolled out three 55-gallon steel drums. One contained gunpowder. The others contained sodium hypochlorite and liquid ammonia. When the two liquids are mixed, they generate toxic and explosive hydrazine gas. The chemical fires could serve as the ignition. I removed the caps of both barrels, kicked them over, and dashed out of the design bureau.
The resulting explosion behind me almost knocked me over. The vault door was blown off its hinges and rolled like a loose coin. A section of the Guild roof collapsed, blocking what used to be the entrance of my design lab with a pile of rocks and mud. I suspected that my design bureau had caved in as well. It was a shame that all those prototypes had to go to waste, but at least the Guild members were safe. Angel would be trapped for at least a day, even with her new Howling ability. That gave us plenty of time to demolish the Guild and seal the entrances. Trapping Angel in an underground hell felt strangely like poetic justice.
With Angel now trapped, I devoted myself to fighting the fires in the Guild. They were not nearly as dangerous, but they still produced toxic fumes that poisoned the air. Ventilation was near nonexistent, and I had to act quick.
After a while, the injured and unconscious Guild members around me started to recover and helped control the fires. Otonashi, Yuri, and a small group of assault team members eventually arrived to help the survivors. Otonashi administered first aid to those who were recovering, while others carried the unconscious out of the Guild on makeshift stretchers. Noda was shaken and mumbling incoherently when we lifted him out of the secret underground prison, but he was still alright. The rest of the Guild members prepared the demolition charges and tried to save whatever was still salvageable. Most of my blueprints were already buried underneath the rubble, but my photographic memory nullified most of that. I was still able to recover some prototype firearms and radio equipment.
One by one, the SSS members filed out of the Guild and ascended to the surface, carrying carts loaded with salvaged equipment. I was among the few who stayed behind to help Chaa set up the demolition charges.
"We're almost done," Chaa said to me, "Just this last connection, and that'll be it."
I threaded together the copper wires leading from the detonator and explosives. The explosives weren't very different form the ones I handled back in World War II. The same chemicals and setup still provided a lot of bang for the buck.
"That's it," I said, dusting off the dirt from my gloves, "That's the last of them. We'll have to evacuate now."
The remaining seven or so members of the SSS filed out of the cavern and into the Tunnels. I was the last one to leave. Before closing the massive doors, I turned around to bid my last farewell. I easily grew attached to places—even places that I didn't like. The enormity of the cavern still impressed me, and the combination of broken machinery and collapsed rock had a strange beauty to it. It was a shame that the place had to be destroyed.
Sandra placed her hand on my shoulder. "Let's go, Pak," She said, pulling me away from the door, "You'll have plenty of time to reminisce later. There's still work to do."
Yim nodded in agreement, "Cheer up, Pak-kah. It's not that bad. We'll build you a new design studio. Now that Angel is gone, it doesn't even have to be underground anymore. We can even build it at the beach or on a mountaintop with a beautiful sunset view, like Khao Luang mountain-kah."
"We might not even have to build anything at all," Takamatsu chimed in, pushing up his glasses, "After we blow this place, Angel will be buried 300 meters underground. Even with her skills, I doubt that she will be able to climb out."
I closed the giant doors and walked further into the Tunnels, contemplating the future fight against Angel. Three hundred meters of soil would certainly trap Angel for a very long time, but I doubted that it would stop her forever. We still needed to experiment with more powerful guns and flamethrowers, in case she reemerged. Armored vehicles and chemical weapons would be very good projects as well. Building a boat could allow us to escape the island altogether also seemed like a good backup plan.
After the conversation with Otonashi that morning, I was no longer sure that Yurippe's strategy of killing Angel would invoke divine intervention and presence. Whichever divinity that created and ruled the world didn't bother to intervene when the Nazis murdered down 12 million innocents, and I doubted that he would appear just to save an android like Angel. Still, there was no reason to give up. Most of us had long-standing grudges against her, and we had to protect ourselves against obliteration. Defeating Angel gave me quite a thrill, and at times, she seemed to be the only thing holding the Battlefront together.
After walking a good distance away from the Guild, Chaa placed the blasting machine on the ground and removed the safety. "Alright," he said, "We're going to blow the Guild. Cover your ears."
"Fire in the hole!" I plugged my ears and watched as he pressed down the handle. I expected a series of loud booms and vibrations. I waited and waited, but nothing happened. Yim and Hinata gave me curious looks, while Fujimaki and Sandra shot me impatient and angry glances.
"It didn't work," Fujimaki said, as if he had solved the problem with his penetrating insight.
"Yes, we know that, moron," Sandra shot back.
"The wire must have snagged somewhere," Chaa complained, letting out a slight sigh, "You guys stay here. I'll go have a look." Chaa ran off in the direction of the Guild. I wanted to help him, but I was too tired. I took a seat on the ground and started organizing the blueprints we managed to salvage.
Yim scanned the blueprints I laid out on the dirt. The blueprints of contra-rotating propellers for the Daimler-Benz DB 605 engine seemed to fascinate her the most. It was purely an experimental project; I wanted so see if the availability of light and strong materials could offset the weight and mechanical complicity of epicyclic gear trains. The gears allowed two propellers to be turned by one engine. Willy Messerschmitt was never approved of such designs; his philosophy was to increase performance by decreasing drag and weight. I thought that it was a worthwhile pursuit. A Messerschmitt Bf 109 was seven times heavier than the WWI-era Fokker Dreideckers the Red Baron flew, but it was also three times faster. The output of the engine had a lot to do with it, but ultimately, the propellers drove the plane.
"It's a design that I wanted to test out," I said, pointing at the gears, "Come to think of it. You were in flight school. Have you flown any planes with contra-rotating props?"
"No. I've seen them though. Some Russian bombers and racing planes use them, but commercial planes don't use them at often. It's a cool design though. No need to worry about the P-factor during take-offs." The P-factor referred to a propeller-driven plane's tendency to yaw at high angels of attack. The effect is particularly dangerous during takeoff, as it could cause the pilot to lose control at low altitude. Yim was a good pilot who took note of such things; the same couldn't be said for many of the novice Luftwaffe pilots. At least 10% of all Bf 109s destroyed in the war were lost in takeoff and landing accidents. Good pilots could have avoided most of those mistakes, but careful design and a slight redesign of the landing gear could have eliminated them altogether.
It was a solemn reminder of how seemingly minor engineering mistakes could lead to great losses of life. Like Stalin said, there are no trivialities in aviation. All components had to be carefully inspected and tested before use. I slid the blueprint into a folder containing engine designs.
Yim searched the pile of papers to find another blueprint booklet. My explosives booklet. The blueprint outlined a series of explosives designed to look inconspicuous. One of the bombs were placed inside a teddy bear disguised as a Valentine's Day gift, and another was placed inside a backpack. A larger one was designed to be concealed in a printer, while the largest one was concealed in a moped. They were all rigged to detonate when exposed to a certain radio signal. I designed them with the intention of catching Angel off-guard with explosions during class hours. I even had a school map showing the places where the bombs would be set to go off.
Yim had curled up into a ball at that this point, and her tiny body collapsed in on itself for support. But all of a sudden, she unfurled herself and glared at me. I couldn't tell if she was mad, or happy, or what. Her eyes were either like daggers or saucers; I couldn't really make out which. Maybe she was expecting something better. Maybe she thought I'd be less sneaky. Or did she figure out what I was planning all along?
Either way, tears began to explode from her eyes so quickly that red bags were forming under them almost instantly. She then turned her back to me, all with one seemingly unconscious spin of her body. The contents of the folder scattered onto the ground.
"Yim. Are you okay?"
"Um. Pak, remember that day when we defeated Angel? Remember how I said you were like a brother to me?" She seemed like she was trying her hardest not to let herself cry, though it wasn't exactly working.
"You did?" My communication skills and memory weren't exactly working either.
She paused, seemingly waiting for me to answer. But I had no idea what to say, and absolutely didn't want to say the wrong thing. So I just stood there like a statue.
"Never mind, then! If you don't remember, that's fine." Finally, she turned back to face m, her tears mostly dry. Still a little self-conscious about crying, thought, she kept her eyes closed, a tell-tale frown belying her confidence.
There was obviously something between the lines for me to read, but I didn't know what it was. Did she have a brother as well? If so, she didn't talk about him much. I didn't want to ask either. Not many of us had pleasant stories to tell.
Then, I realized that I was crying too. My eyes were tearing up, and my nostrils filled up with liquid. I was sweating way more than usual, and my chest felt strangely hollow. The Tunnels seemed to be getting darker. I also grew more nauseated and felt like I was on the verge of vomiting. I thought that I was just tired and depressed over the loss of the Guild. Perhaps I had accidentally inhaled some toxins during the explosion in my lab. I wrote off the symptoms as a minor nuisance.
I started to realize something was seriously wrong, however, when Takamatsu projectile vomited onto Noda, who promptly lost control of his bowels and bladder. He fell over onto the ground into a poll of vomit and urine, twitching and jerking uncontrollably. Yim was drooling and tearing, while Sandra struggled to breath. Streams of urine were also flowing down their legs as well. I felt dizzy and short of breath. The symptoms were unmistakable. I knew what was happening.
We were under chemical attack!
When I worked at IG Farben, I once tried to create a new nerve gas by combining tabun chlorobenzene and some organic hallucinogens. I was distracted by a faulty light bulb and accidentally ignited the mixture, which promptly exploded. The fume hood protected most of my body, but it did nothing for my arms and hands. The explosion covered my hands in glass shards, blood and burns. The worst part, though, was that some of the talun escaped. The cuts and burns healed in about a week, but I was out of the lab for three weeks due to continuous nausea, miosis, spasms, and hallucinations. It was an experience that I only wished Angel to suffer.
Has Angel decided to use chemical weapons on us? I thought to myself. Where is the gas coming from?
As if to answer my questions, a series of rapid gunshots suddenly rung out from the direction of the Guild. I jumped to my feet and sprinted down towards the Guild entrance. Yim tried to follow but fell down in a convulsive fit. Maybe it was because I developed a tolerance working around nerve agents, but my symptoms were more mild. My left arm and neck were twitching, but I still managed to draw out my P38 pistol. Holding it steady was a lot harder. I could barely switch off the safety.
As I ran through the gates of the Guild, I saw the culprit. There was a large open beaker of clear liquid sitting right at the edge of the walkway. Someone had plugged a fan next to it, directing the vapors into the Tunnels, instead of the main cave. I held my breath, covered my nose, and kicked the beaker off the walkway. It shattered with a satisfying clang. There were probably more beakers hidden elsewhere in the Guild and Tunnels, but carefully searching for all of them was out of the picture.
I sprinted down the staircase leading to the main floor of the Guild, leaping three or four stairs at a time. I barely avoided faceplanting into dirt. A section of wire connecting the detonating machine to the explosive charges was cut. Whoever released the sarin gas had also sabotaged our demolition efforts, probably in order to make us remain in the Tunnels long enough for the sarin gas to take effect. It was a clever move. My opponent knew what he was doing.
Thus, I wasn't completely surprised—but still shocked—when a sword pierced my body.
I was hiding behind a metal cabinet, trying to spot the new enemy. I expected a gunfight and was loading a new clip into my pistol. I was caught completely off-guard when a figure leapt over the smoking remains of the turret press, charging at me like a mad bull. His face was covered by a gas mask, and he was dressed in a blood-drenched lab coat. He held a glistening gunto sword in one hand.
There was little time for me to react. I jammed the clip into the pistol, but my sweating, shaky finger slipped on the hammer. By the time I cocked the gun, the attacker was already pressed against the barrel.
"Tenno Heika Banzai!" The masked man shouted as his sword connected.
I heard a scream as the sword plunged into my stomach. I recognized it as my own a second later. The sword found no resistance. It entered just below my ribcage and exited through my back with a sickening wet sound.
For a very brief moment, I felt nothing except a strange metallic coldness. But then, the convulsions started. First in my abdomen and slowly spreading up to the rest of my body. The extent of the agony I felt at that moment was impossible to convey. It was all-encompassing. I could hardly focus on anything else.
I collapsed on my knees and looked down. My lower body was spewing bright red blood, thick black blood, and an unknown yellow substance, all of which were blending together into a slurry that was once my life essence.
The masked man yanked the sword to the center and withdrew it. The spray of blood gushing out of me became exponentially more violent. It seemed like an equal amount of blood was rushing to my head, and it felt like the blood vessels in my head were on the verge of bursting.
I tried to cover the wound with my jacket, but the bleeding grew worse. I felt my strength quickly draining out of me. My pistol was no longer in my hand, and my life was no longer in my hands. In one last act of defiance, I reached for the utility knife in my jacket and flung it at the masked figure with every last bit of strength left in me.
It was too little, too late. The masked man dodged and swung his sword again, spraying blood and bits of viscera onto my face. My detached hand landed next to me a moment later. Blood gushed out of what remained of my arm. The smell of iron filled my nostrils, and my vision began to blur.
With amazing strength, the masked man grabbed me by the collar and pressed me against the metal cabinet. I had one last look at him before I blacked out. The man wore a lab coat over an Imperial Japanese Army dress uniform. The rank badges indicated that he was a Shousa (Major). He carried a gunto sword in one hand and had a Type 14 Nambu holstered on his belt. I recognized the gas mask as a Japanese Model 95. Through the foggy lenses, I could see a pair of brown, dead eyes glaring at me. They looked so strange, and yet so familiar.
"So we meet again, Dr. Pak?" the voice had a familiar metallic ring to it, "The last time I saw you was sixty years ago. You haven't changed a bit."
Yes. I had definitely heard that voice somewhere! And those eyes! Those were the eyes of someone who I once knew. Who? It was hard to tell without seeing the rest of his face. I had met this guy during my childhood years in East Asia. But where exactly? The pain made it too hard to think.
"Who… who are you?" I could barely utter the necessary words.
"Don't you salute your superior officers anymore, Jun-I (Warrant Officer)? Or did the Russians fill your head with too much nonsense? It's such a shame, really. I really enjoyed working with you, maruta (log)."
"What… what do you want from me?" I could feel another pool of blood welling up in the back of my throat.
"You're going to die before I can fully explain, Jun-I, but let's just say that you and the SSS are getting in the way of my experiments. You have your experiments, and I have mine. I'm sure you, as a fellow scientist, can understand."
The bleeding was getting more and more severe by the second. Soon, I was practically wading in a pool of my own blood. My vision darkened from the loss of blood and the and intense pain.
"So here. Please accept this as a gift for the reunion. It has certainly been nice to meet you again, Dr. Ralf Jin Pak. Or should I say, Dr. Park Shin-kun." He tossed something in front of me just as I was moments from my final blackout. There, among my own entrails on the ground was a small wooden box.
I didn't even have enough time to read the writing on the box. I fell forward, unable to maintain balance any longer. I landed right on it. With a loud, warm and unpleasant splash, my face planted firmly into the box, which was steaming under the odd temperature differentials of my viscera...
Jargon Dictionary
BMW R75:
The BMW R75 was a World War II-era motorcycle and sidecar combination produced by BMW. The vehicle was developed for the Wehrmacht and saw heavy use in Eastern Europe and North Africa. Equipped with a 745 cc flat-twin engine and locking differentials, it was very maneuverable and capable of operating in difficult terrain. Many are still being used by motorcycle enthusiasts today. The small size and agility of the bike makes it perfect for the confined environments inside the Guild.
Louis de Saint-Just:
Louis Antoine Léon de Saint-Just (1767-1794) was a military and political leader during the French Revolution. He was the youngest of the deputies elected to the National Convention in 1792 but quickly became a leading figure in the French First Republic. Widely considered to be Maximillian Robespierre's right-hand man, he served as one of the commissioners of the powerful Committee of Public Safety, solidifying its power with a ruthless and brutal program of intimidation. He was eventually executed by guillotine during the Thermidorian Reaction. Later historians dubbed him the "Angel of Death" for his role in the Reign of Terror.
Chemistry:
Silver fulminate (AgCNO) is the a salt of fulminic acid. It is a highly explosive compound. Although it has been used as a primary explosive, its use is limited due to its high sensitivity to impact, heat, pressure and electricity. It can be set off by the impact of a single drop of water. Today, very small amounts of it are often used to make novelty noisemakers such as bang snaps.
Sodium hypochlorite is a chemical compound with the formula NaClO. It is a salt of hypochlorous acid. When dissolved in water, it is known as bleach. Ammonia is a compound of nitrogen and hydrogen with the formula NH3. It is a precursor to many chemical fertilizers. When sodium hypochlorite is mixed with ammonia, the mixture produces toxic chloramines and explosive hydrazine gas, a compound often used as rocket fuel.
Khao Luang:
Khao Luang is the tallest mountain in southern Thailand. It has an elevation of 1780m (5840 ft). The mountain is located within Kao Luang National Park and is a popular tourist attraction.
Daimler-Benz DB 605:
One of the finest engines developed during World War II, the Daimler-Benz DB 605 was a German Piston V12 aircraft engine. It was a further development of the DB 601 engine and was used in later variants of the Messerschmitt Bf 109 fighter, Bf 110 heavy fighter, and Me 210 heavy fighter. It has a maximum power output of 1324 kW and an excellent power-to-weight ratio of 1.68kW/kg (1.02 hp/lb).
Type 14 Nambu pistol:
The Nambu pistol is a series of semi-automatic pistol produced by the Koishikawa Arsenal. It was designed by Kijiro Nambu and saw extensive service during the Russo-Japanese War, the Second Sino-Japanese War and World War II, during which it was adopted as an official sidearm. Around 400,000 were produced. It fires an 8x22mm round and had an effective firing range of 50m. It is a well-balanced pistol, although it is considerably less powerful than comparable Western pistols.
Closing:
Dima: Hey guys. Sorry for the long wait. The truth is, this chapter was pretty much complete three weeks ago. However, I ended up getting a spontaneous pneumothorax for no reason three weeks ago and was hospitalized for a week. I've been spending the past two weeks catching up on the work that I've missed.
Pak: I'm glad to see that you were in some pain as well. How do you even come up with this stuff anyway?
Dima: I've been listening to a lot of Corpse Party while working and exercising. It was an interesting experience, to say the least.
Yim: I read some of the manga back when I was in Japan. It was alright. It has a bit of a cult following-kah, although I never really got into it. I never played the games either.
Hinata: It's horrifying…
Sandra: Only if you're a huge wuss who has never experienced real fear.
Pak: Please describe it.
Sandra: There was a copy on the school computer. It's about a class of students stuck in a nightmarish alternate universe. People should not be scared of fictional characters on a screen.
Hinata: It's terrifying. You're never safe. You always have to think on your feet.
Sandra: Think on my feet or what? The ghosts will come out of the screen to inform the Nazis of my hiding location? Or obliterate us? Cause those are what scares me.
Hinata: No. The monsters stay in the screen.
Sandra: Is there a part where the player confronts the horrors of starvation?
Dima: No…
Sandra: The game is full of pretend monsters that scream at you. But, unlike when a Gestapo officer screams at you, you don't end up sleeping in dark alleyways for a month. Here's a good gaming tip: when the ghosts charge you, turn off the gaming console.
Pak: Gaming console?
Sandra: As I wondered through the haunted world, I was sweating the whole time because my relatives could still be locked up in a camp in Poland, and I have no idea how to deal with that. The axe-wielding demons are a calming respite from the unyielding terror of normal life. As such, I would highly recommend Corpse Party to any horror fan who has no real problems and is frightened by make-belief.
Pak: Yes. I fought in war, and I find the idea of paying to be scared shameful.
Dima: I'm living in America in April 2016, and I'm finding the presidential candidates horrifying shameful.
I'm finding solace in the knowledge that the 2016 presidential candidates are taking years off of their lives by running for president. This election cycle has been nearly unbearable, which is why I always try to pause and remind myself that every campaign stop, stump speech, and television appearance takes a huge toll on the candidates' health and well-being, and reduces their life expectancy. It is heartening to know the stress induced from holding multiple campaign rallies in a single day would later manifest as life-threatening medical conditions in each of the presidential hopefuls.
Whenever I find myself getting worked up about what one of the candidates has said or done, I just remind myself that the endless sleep deprivation on the campaign trail is going to ensure that none of them are around for too many more years. And it's also nice to think that if they actually make it to the general election, that will just speed along the whole process. However, the sense of solace is quickly wiped away after I remember that candidates' corporate donors would be around for a very long time…