The Marshal

The group of seven workers, plus Hans, was taken all the way to the theater, Langenbeck-Virchow-Haus, as promised. The two Panzertroopers had led them into the venue, down past the rows of decaying blue seats, and to a staircase behind the stage's curtain. At the top was a door and a small set of steps to the right, leading to another door. Beyond it was a narrow hall, two doors on the right and one at the end. The floor was lined with black carpeting and the walls finished in a variety of earthy browns and creams, the windows designed to catch the sun. Hans spotted a few plinths for busts and sculptures along the way, though as expected said busts were all missing.

"You lot wait in here," the female Panzertrooper said to the rescued workers, pointing to one of the doors. "You're coming with us," she said to Hans. He followed the two Panzertroopers all the way down to the door at the end of the hall, which was open. They lumbered in and, after a few moments, set their weapons down. "Marshal Braun, we're back!"

The room at the end was some kind of studio apartment, as far as Hans could tell. Shaped like a hexagon cut in half and rotated 45 degrees. There were a few chairs and couches, in decent condition and with only small amounts of mold on them. Outside of the furniture the apartment was dominated by exercise equipment, lockers, corkboards with maps and papers pinned to them, workbenches, and other industrial equipment. It was clean and neatly organized, with only very few things left astray.

A tall, muscular man stepped out of an adjacent room, his blonde hair cut very short. He was wearing some kind of bodysuit, a pistol belt strapped around his waist. He took one look at the two Panzertroopers and Hans, and approached. A moment later Friedrich Ademar stepped out of the same room, looking relieved to see Hans.

"Irmina," the man said to the female trooper. "Oskar. Good job. You both can strip your suits and relax, we won't be leaving again the rest of the day." The two Panzertroopers nodded and walked off to the other end of the apartment, out of sight. The blonde-haired man watched them go then turned his attention back to Hans. "Hello again, Hans. Not surprising you don't recognize me; you never saw me outside my SPAS suit, after all."

Hans' eyes widened. "Erich Braun..." he said, a million questions on his mind. He'd last seen Erich at Kehlsteinhaus, the Eagle's Nest, in Berchtesgaden, where Projekt Natursturm and the Final Order were destroyed. The place where their dreams died and their troubles began. "What are you doing here?"

"Killing Sturmers, as you can plainly tell," Erich said. "Five of the Panzertroopers survived the Eagle's Nest. With the Order destroyed I decided to take us north, to Berlin, where I established Bismarck's Butchers," he said with a grin. "We've been enjoying this job for over a year."

"No kidding..." Hans said, wondering why he hadn't heard of them before now. "I think you were the only Panzertrooper I knew in the Order."

Erich nodded. "That's right. I worked pretty closely with Oskar and Irmina during my time with the Order. They're good soldiers. Irmina's from Austria, joined up with the Order pretty early on in Munich. Oskar's from Stuttgart, I believe. They shoot well and they love killing abominations. Couldn't ask for a better team."

"Glad to hear it," Hans said, and looked at Friedrich. "I didn't think I'd ever get out of that camp."

"Well last night this red came to us, said he was the leader of the Deutsche Kommunists here in Berlin," Erich said, looking over his shoulder at Friedrich. "Now I don't give a shit about reds, unless they're redskins, but he told me you were in trouble, and had likely been taken to the mutant hive at the Spreebogenpark as a prisoner. When he mentioned your name, I agreed to help bust you out, free of charge."

Hans glanced at Friedrich. "What's the catch?"

Erich grinned again. "The catch is you get to help me eradicate the mutant filth from our fucking city. Imagine that; I rescue you, then I reward you by giving you the chance to slaughter the trash that imprisoned you. Few people get an opportunity like this with no strings attached."

"Deal," Hans said. "No questions asked."

"Heheheee, I'm glad to hear it," Erich muttered. "Where's the woman?"

"Hilda... She's dead. The mutants hanged her, for what we did in Munich," Hans said, and Erich frowned, his pale arms crossed over his chest. "Operation Atomsturm."

Erich scoffed.

"Did...I miss something, Herr Eckhart?" Friedrich asked, and Hans wondered just what he'd told Erich. If he'd told him everything, then he'd be dead. He must've fed Erich an edited version of their tale. Hans briefly considered selling him out, then thought better of it. More allies were a boon, at least for the time being.

"The person the Sturmutants were looking for, the Monster of Munich, was Hilda," Hans said. Friedrich folded his arms and leaned against the wall but said nothing, which Hans was grateful for. He didn't need a lecture.

"Hah!" Erich laughed. "The muties were so afraid of that little redhead they gave her their own name? Eh, I'm sorry to hear she's dead. If they hated her that much then she must've been a serious badass. Can only imagine what they'll call us, before we get back there and put them out of our misery."

"About that," Hans said. "I'm assuming you're going to come up with a plan?"

Erich nodded. "Our little rescue mission weakened their defenses and thinned their numbers some, but it wasn't enough to knock them out completely. The Butchers and I have been waging our own war against the Sturmers for some time now, as I said, but we haven't had the numbers or firepower yet to lay waste to their entire stronghold. The park is only one part of it, and will be easy to eliminate. The problem lies in the pre-War palace nearby; they've got something seriously important there that they're guarding."

"Queen Ilse," Hans said, and Erich gave him a look. "The Ironheart, apparently. She's their leader. She's got an army of black-armored soldiers she calls Vengeance Troopers. There's something else there, too. When Hilda and I were imprisoned we saw some kind of high-tech door in the dungeon, guarded by two Vengeance Troopers. No idea what's behind it."

"If the Sturmers care so much about it, it's bad news for us. The thing about us, though, is that we're bad news for them," Erich said. "I've got a plan to get in there, destroy everything they're doing, and rescue all their prisoners," he said, and walked over to a nearby filing cabinet. He pulled out a map, which he set down on a table beside the couch. He pointed at the map. "This location here, in the harbor, is the Berlin Waterworks Sanitation facility. The Sturmutants control it, and it pumps fresh water to their camp at the park."

"Knock out their water, knock out their camp?" Friedrich said, and Erich nodded.

"We kill their guards and destroy the plant, and they'll be forced to respond by sending out troops to investigate. Alternatively, they'll hole up, but they won't last more than a week without water," Erich said. He pointed to another part of the map. "This is the Tiergarten Tunnel, and it runs directly underneath the park. Nearby is the Bundestag U-Bahn station, which opens up right on Otto von Bismarck Allee, which runs straight up to the front fucking door of the Reichstag. There are service corridors connecting the tunnel with the U-Bahn station, and an entrance to the tunnel near the water sanitation plant. Our ticket inside their stronghold."

Hans rubbed his chin and looked at the map, taking in what Erich had told him. "Do we have the numbers for it?" he asked, and Erich nodded.

"With you and the red here now, we do, but we don't have the firepower. Irmina, Oskar, and myself can take the park easy, but the Reichstag will be difficult. To take it, we'll need an edge, and I know just where to get it." He pointed at another part of the map, far south of the city. "This is Schweinfurt, home to a pre-War American military base. During my time with the Final Order, the Panzertroopers charted over a dozen American military bases in Germany, most abandoned. Air Station Richardson was a testing ground for experimental American weapons, according to some records I found once, and there'll no doubt be good stuff there. There's just one catch: Air Station Richardson is still home to a detachment of American Remnant soldiers."

Hans looked at him, the room silent for a few moments as he took in what Erich had just told him. "American soldiers... No kidding?" he asked. Erich shook his head. "They might be the last Americans alive on this planet."

"Unless any of the poor fellows in China survived," Friedrich said.

"No chance of that, either. China was scorched away into nothingness," Erich said. "The five of us will go to Air Station Richardson, eradicate the warmongering trash that plunged our world into nuclear fire, and take their guns and gear for ourselves. When we're done, we'll ride on the sanitation facility, knock it offline, then use the tunnel to storm the Reichstag to kill this Queen Ilse and exterminate her army of mutant filth."

Hans nodded gamely. "I'm in," he said, and looked to Friedrich.

"I haven't forgotten our deal, Herr Eckhart. For what it's worth, I'm sorry about Hilda," he said. "I tried, at the hotel, I tried... It was just too dangerous. On my way back to Alexanderplatz, I ran into the lady. When I mentioned Sturmutants she nearly stormed off to the hotel to kill them all; I had to convince her there were too many, and that she'd need backup. She brought me here, introduced me to Herr Braun. When I told him your name..."

Erich nodded. "I didn't know your wife, but you and her were in the Order. It was a good enough reason for me to get you out." He folded up the map and put it away. "We'll get you geared up, and then tomorrow we'll ride on Air Station Richardson. We've got a Hanomag outside. You and the red will have to sit up front, there won't be any room in the back with the three of us in our suits."

"Fine by me," Hans said. "Thanks again, Erich."

Erich nodded and walked past Hans to check on the survivors in the other room, leaving Hans alone with Friedrich. He turned to face his old friend and adversary. "I suppose I owe you some gratitude as well, since you got Erich and his nussknackers to rescue me."

"Really I was expecting to have to pay them in some way. When I told him your name I swear he grinned like a shark. You certainly can't say he doesn't enjoy killing mutants."

"No, you can't... It's funny; Hilda wanted you dead. More than dead, in fact. She wanted to do truly horrible things to you, but you still saved her life outside that hotel. You could've left me to rot in that camp, but you didn't. I just don't get you," Hans said. "You're far too altruistic to have lived as long as you have."

"Altruism is what's kept us all alive in the years since The Bomb came. It's the reason our species survived The Bomb, and continues to eke out what meager, miserable living we are able to, Herr Eckhart," Friedrich said. "I didn't expect Frau Eckhart to understand that, or even to thank me for it."

"Hilda didn't hate you, she hated what you represented," Hans said, then remembered something. "Well, maybe she did hate you for killing Klara."

Friedrich frowned, looking stricken. "I told you I didn't mean to kill her. I didn't know it was her until after I'd pulled the trigger. If I had, then I absolutely would've tried talking first. Maybe it's poetic, since our species' knack for reaching for the trigger before opening our mouths is what got us all into this God-forsaken mess in the first place."

"Mmm," Hans said just as Erich came back into the room. He nodded at both of them and motioned for Hans to follow him. He trailed behind Erich as he walked across the open floor of the apartment, around the bend, and to the back wall. Oskar and Irmina stood by one of the windows, talking, noticeably shorter outside of their suits. It always struck Hans how dehumanizing their SPAS suits were.

At the back of the apartment were five lockers and a large crate, sitting skewed by the lockers. Each of the lockers was labeled, though Hans didn't know two of the names. Erich noticed his gaze and stopped. "Oskar, Irmina, and myself are the only Butchers still in Berlin. The other two are in Austria, on a long-term mission," he said. Erich opened his locker and pulled out a Rheinmetall M72 Gauss Rifle, which he looked over. "This is mine," he said, and pointed at the chest. "You can have whatever's in there."

Hans approached the chest, painted in green and bearing military markings. The clasps were already undone and there was no lock, so he was free to lift the lid. Inside was a pile of guns, stacked atop one another. 30 or 40 guns, easily. Hans reached in and started pulling them out, looking for something that'd be suitable.

"A K98, another K98, another K98, another K98, a PSG-1, that's a good gun. Two G3s, a Walther MPL, some MP40s, an MP5, a VP70 with a shoulder stock, sweet Jesus where did you find that? Hah, a G11. An M1916 Selbstladegewehr, an MP34, a Walther P5 pistol and some PPKs, an MG-34. A SPAS-12 of all things. An M1...Guhrond? Gerrend? American garbage. Why do you even have that? Here we are, what's this?"

In the middle of the pile Hans found a gun he'd never seen before. All-black, bullpup, with a large carrying handle on top, a charging handle underneath. There was a round rubber cup at the rear of the carry handle, and the barrel was long and thick. "What the fuck is this thing?"

Erich grinned. "That there is an H&K CAWS. A Close-Assault Weapon System. Ten rounds of three-inch 12 gauge magnum buckshot. For those moments when you want to kill your target and make sure they'll still be dead when they get to the next life."

Hans shouldered the shotgun and tried to sight through the carry handle, expecting the cup to be part of a scope. It was, once. At some point it had been filled in with some kind of metal tube. Instead, the only sight was just a trench running along the top of the handle. There was a button on the left side of the handguard, which he pressed. A bright, menacing beam of red laser light shot forth from the end of the scope, centered squarely at the end of the sighting trench. Hans trained the laser across the wall and couldn't help but grin himself.

"Now this is what I'm talking about," he said as he released the magazine and started to load it up.