Potsdamerplatz
The normally 30-minute ride to Potsdamerplatz had taken Hans and Hilda 40 minutes, but that was OK with Hans. It wasn't as if he was in a rush. As they neared the station he slowed the handcar down, easing the vehicle to a stop at the base of the platform. Hilda wasted no time hopping up onto the platform and making a beeline straight for the clinic, to check on the patient she'd transferred there, leaving Hans alone on the platform.
Hans stepped up onto the A-side platform and headed up the stairs to the station's foyer, where most U-Bahn councilors had their homes. He passed by a few guards he recognized along the way, giving each of them curt nods as he went, and walked up to the door to Councilor Eisler's apartment. A knock and a couple seconds later the door opened, and Councilor Eisler ushered him in.
"Herr Eckhart, thank fucking Bismarck you're here. I trust you're here to help?" Eisler said, and Hans gave him a look.
"Help? No, I just came here to tell you my team and I eliminated a squad of Deutsche Kommunists at the former Russian Embassy building on Unter den Linden," Hans said, and Eisler waved his hand dismissively.
"Who cares about those Lenin worshippers, I've got more serious problems here. I've got some of my guards, plus some mercenaries, up on the surface right now, beating back the mutants. They've been harassing the station for days," Eisler explained.
"Mutants? Sturmutants, I'm guessing" Hans said, and Eisler nodded. "What do they want? Do you know?"
Eisler threw his hands up. "No, I do not know! Psychotic degenerates just do as they damn well please. I asked around at some of the surface settlements, the people at the Financial Academy as well as the folks at Stadtmitte, they both said the same thing: the Sturmutants are ignoring them. They've only been attacking the U-Bahn stations, as far as I can tell. Prinz Albrecht Palais, Friedenssaule, and us here at Potsdamer. Why they've got such a hard-on for subway dwellers is beyond me, but I don't much care about the 'why', I just want them dead."
Sturmutanten. Storm Mutants. The creation of God-knows-what. Roughly the same height as the average man, but higher-than-average musculature and significantly more aggressive than the average human. Most had gray skin, though Hans had seen a few red-skinned ones in his time. Male and female. There didn't seem to be any particular pattern or reason as to why most were gray while some were red.
"Alright, alright, I'll investigate. Do you at least know where they're coming from?" Hans said, and unslung his G11. Sturmutants had been a threat for years, but usually not much more so than human bandits or ferals, so if they were stepping up their attacks then it was definitely worth checking out.
"The pre-War office tower, to the west. Go up to the surface and turn left, it's a gaudy all-glass and half-moon shaped affair, you can't miss it," Eisler said, and looked down at Hans' rifle. "Surely you aren't planning on killing Sturmers with that paper-puncher, are you?"
Hans gave him a look. "What would you recommend I use? A Panzerfaust?" he said, and Eisler shook his head. He walked over to a chest at the foot of his bed, a rather nice (and very antique) oak chest. He released the iron lock on its clasp, opened it, and reached inside. What he brought out surprised Hans.
"Here, take this. A Walther Automatic in 12-gauge," Eisler said, and handed Hans two boxes of brass* military shotshells. Hans slung his rifle and took the shotgun, admiring its condition. It was practically brand new, the metal clean and the wood unmarred. There was a lever on the side that he yanked down, exposing the empty chamber. He turned the shotgun over, surprised to see there was no loading gate.
"How the Hell does this work?"
"Allow me," Eisler said, and Hans handed the gun back to him. "There's a button on the left side here, see? Pull it back," *pop*, "and the magazine opens up on a hinge." Eisler slid five shells into the tube and then snapped it shut. "There's a button on the underside, where you thought the loading gate would be. Press it and the bolt drops, automatically chambering a shell." Eisler did just that, the bolt and associated lever snapping back into position. He handed the gun back to Hans, who looked it over. "It kicks like a Rover, but one dose of 00 buck will drop a Sturmer like a rock."
Hans looked the shotgun over again, pressing the button that popped open the magazine. The whole handguard dropped down maybe 15 degrees, exposing the loaded tube. He snapped it shut again, admiring how much easier and faster it'd be to load over something like a Sjogren or Belgian Auto 5. "Do you want it back when I'm done?"
"Consider it payment for solving our Sturmutant problem. I imagine that once you get used to it you'll want to keep it anyway. Those forty shells I gave you ought to be enough, but if not then just scrounge more from the Sturmers; they like to use shotguns."
"Alright, then. Hilda and I will clear them out and get back to you," Hans said, and Eisler nodded gratefully.
"Thank you, Herr Eckhart."
Twenty minutes later Hilda was finished with her patient, who she expected to make a full recovery, and the two of them were standing together at the top of the stairs to the Potsdamerplatz U-Bahn station, weapons in hand. To the west, as promised, was a pre-War office tower, all-glass and gaudy-looking, as promised. The boulevard that ran to the building was lined with the rusting hulks of pre-War cars, both Volkswagens and imported Chryslus electrics, as well as the bodies of both Sturmutants and U-Bahn guards.
Lucky for the two of them the street was clear, allowing them to proceed out of the park the station was in and down the street to the office tower. The sign above the main entrance was still intact, proclaiming the building to be the offices of Solar Express. Hans and Hilda moved into the lobby, crouched low, guns at the ready. The lobby was occupied by prospective customers, all skeletons however, as well as the bodies of three Sturmutants starting their own journey into becoming skeletons.
Hans stood up straight and relaxed, looking around. There was a large crescent-shaped desk to the left, a wide staircase leading up to a second-floor mezzanine next to it. Hans peeked around the desk and started up the stairs with his wife, keeping his eyes and ears open for any sign of the Sturmutants.
The two of them reached the top of the steps and followed the mezzanine around to the left, where it led to two doors on the right and an elevator at the end. The elevator looked out of order, judging by the missing doors and the scorch marks on the threshold. To the right of the two doors was a staircase heading up to the next floor. A quick check of the doors revealed nothing of import, so all that was left was the staircase. They headed up it, one after the other, Hans in the lead. The staircase ended in a landing halfway up, switching back to continue up.
He stopped at the top of the stairs, crouching on the steps, and peeked around both corners. To the right was a very short hallway ending in a curved glass wall, two chairs and a table by it. To the left the hallway went on to the other end of the building, the hall lined with doors. Some open, some closed.
Hans could hear footsteps in one of the offices. He quietly let Hilda know and together the two of them slowly crouch-walked up to one of the open doors, where the sound of the footsteps was coming from.
"I've found nothing, sister. I do not think the targets are at this station, unless they are hiding like worms."
"Perhaps one of the others have found and killed them already."
"I pray not, sister! I promised myself that it would be I who delivered their heads to Her Majesty."
Hans wanted to just stay there and listen to more, but the sound of their approaching footsteps told him that chat time was over. As the Sturmutants neared the door Hans and Hilda leaned out and opened fire, ventilating both of the Sturmers in a storm of lead. The two of them collapsed to the floor, dead.
Hans popped the tube open and topped up the shotgun as Hilda began searching the bodies, rifling through their pockets and pouches for anything of value. Thumping footsteps on the floors above told Hans more Sturmers were there, either getting ready to come down the stairs or hunkering down to set an ambush. Hilda came up empty-handed, so the two of them got moving again. A quick check confirmed the rest of the floor was clear, so they headed up to floor number three.
The two of them rounded the landing and were about to head up the rest of the stairs when a Sturmutant appeared in the threshold, bearing an FG-42. It saw the two of them and its expression widened, already bringing its gun to bear. Hans was quicker, though, dumping two loads of buckshot into the mutant's chest. The abomination collapsed onto the stairs, tumbling down them and coming to rest in the corner.
Return fire from the left forced Hans and Hilda to stay in the stairwell, the bullets tearing apart the drywall and paneling of the staircase. A pause in the fire allowed Hans and Hilda to rush up the stairs and duck into an open breakroom, thankfully devoid of any Sturmers.
"They're here, brothers and sisters!" one of the Sturmutants yelled. "Send them to Hell!"
Hilda scoffed. "See you when we get there, mutant scum," she said, charging her MP5. Hans nodded and pulled out one of his grenades, chucking it down the hall. The detonation shook the whole floor, sending loose ceiling tiles and books to the floor. He rounded the corner of the door, hugging the wall as he quickly scurried down the hall. The floor was shaped like a hexagon cut in half, turning sharply a third of the way down before doing the same another third of the way. One of the offices faced the stairwell, giving the mutant inside a perfect field of fire on the stairs. The explosion had forced him to the ground, and he was in the process of getting back up when Hans turned his torso into hamburger.
"HANS! DOWN!" Hilda screamed, and Hans dove to the floor. She opened up with her MP5, emptying half a magazine. Hans rolled over onto his back just in time to see a wounded Sturmutant stumble into the room, clutching her right arm. She saw Hans on the floor just in time to catch a load of buckshot in her face, killing her.
Hans scrambled back to his feet, topping up the Walther Automatic with firm movements. Eisler was right, it kicked hard, but there was no denying the results it got. He peeked out as Hilda approached, making sure the hall was clear. "Thank you for that, Hilda."
She nodded at him. "What was I gonna do, let it shoot you?
The two of them cleared the rest of the floor and then went back to the staircase. Over the next hour they went up the building's floors, clearing each one hall by hall, room by room. Each floor was lousy with Sturmutants, the whole lot of them raving at them in-between bouts of shooting. Eventually they reached the top floor, the floor and walls finished with much nicer decorations.
At the end of the top floor's hall was a pair of sealed double doors, a Sturmutant or two undoubtedly on the other side. The two of them approached the doors, grenades in hand. They yanked the cords, used the end caps to smash the door's windows, and chucked them in. The grenades went off, shattering the windows as they did. Hans chucked in another one for good measure, waiting for the floor to stop shaking before he kicked the doors open and he and Hilda rushed in.
The office, already a mess no doubt, had been completely destroyed by the grenades. The body of a gray Sturmutant lied on the floor to the left, missing three limbs and part of her torso. To the right, at the back of the office, was a red-skinned Sturmutant, still breathing but missing both arms. It looked at them as they approached, and Hilda was about to finish him off when Hans stopped her. He had to know something.
"You mutants have been attacking the U-Bahn stations for a while, and we overheard one of your little friends talking about looking for specific targets. Why? What are you after?" Hans asked, and the Sturmutant laughed mirthlessly, blood leaking from his mouth.
"The Monster..." the mutant said.
"And who is the Monster?" Hans said. The Sturmer leaned forward, struggling as he did, his eyes glazed over and sluggishly blinking. He had minutes, at best.
"She's right...behind...you..."
The mutant collapsed back, wheezing long and deep breaths. Hans turned around, expecting to see some kind of horrible abomination behind him, but there was only Hilda, looking at him. He looked back at the mutant, but he was already dead. He frowned, reloaded the shotgun, and slung it. "The fuck does that mean?" Hilda asked with a scoff.
Hans crouched down and searched the mutant, but there was nothing except a few shotgun shells, which he gladly pocketed. He stood back up and turned around to face Hilda, who had put her hands on her hips the way she often did. "I don't know. What would make a Sturmutant afraid of a short woman like you?"
Hilda rolled her eyes. "Maybe they heard about my bombing of Fernsehturm. The DKs definitely became afraid of me after that one" she said.
Hans cast one last look at the dead Sturmutant and shrugged. "Maybe. Let's go back to the Potsdamer station, let Eisler know we're done, and then go home to Pariser. Maybe Paul will know something about Sturmutants going after U-Bahn stations."
"Fine by me. Let's go," Hilda said, and together the two of them began the long trek back down to the street that would take them back to Potsdamerplatz.
*As mentioned in Fallout: Germany I dislike how shotgun shells in the Fallout games are plastic. A more appropriate choice would be all-brass shells, as used in the First and Second World Wars, or paper.