Disclaimer: Halo and the Wolfenstein series DO NOT belong to me. They're owned by their respective owners and the only thing to my name is possible OC's and this story.
Author's note: I'm going to go ahead and revised my Halo x Wolfenstein story. Correcting any mistakes and revising the format. I realized how my writing as changed and improved between my first and second story. So I'll go ahead and revise my chapters one at a time with an easier format.
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Anyway, enjoy.
"Internal dialogue"
"Regular speech"
"Foreign language translated"
... (Scene break and switch to another scene)
His heart thundered as hard as his boots, quickly covering distance. Clashes of metal and electronic growls answered below him, mocking him. A metallic bark rang out and he lurched forward, missing the metallic jaws. It fell down again, keeping pace with him as he sprinted on an elevated walkway. The metal beast lunged again and missed its meal a second time as the American rebel reached the end, blocking his path was a large steel door held up by golden chains.
He hurriedly pulled out a pistol-like contraption that was akin to a blowtorch. The device looked unremarkable except for a disk-shaped battery the rested where the slide of a pistol would be, the end of the 'barrel' being akin to a claw that ended in circular sights. The panzerhund jumped again, its jaws bursting through the safety railing and clamping near the American's back. It attempted to climb onto the platform before falling back, claws marks left it its wake. He quickly burned through the golden links, the door crashing onto the ground with a reverberating thud. He lurched to the other side away from the Nazi monstrosity.
The steel door blocked the rest of the hallway under him, coincidentally blocking that damn machine outside. He jumped down, landing on the floor with a low thud and nary a grunt. The door gave a thud followed by a electronic growl before silence reigned. He switched the laser cutter setting to pistol fire before silently moving towards the prison block's entrance. He peered around the corner, surveying the room; room being put mildly. A large atrium consisting of many levels stood out, steel doors lining the walls and walkways that interlinked the place like a spider's web throughout the complex.
Camera's attached to turrets watched over the walkways, careening back and forth. In the center of the atrium stood a watch tower, the bottom having a single entrance and the topside ending in a glass enclosure. He focused on the single entrance and saw two guards casually talking, backs to him. He cautiously walked into the atrium and quickly went out view of the entrance. Thick glass in the floor revealed singular tube chambers to hold prisoners underground. He quickly peered around, seeing no guards and not the cell he was looking for.
"Cell B-2..., they listed the prisoners as a high security risk." He looked at all the cells lining the cell block, cell designations painted by the doors. "They'll be separated from the rest." He reached the bottom entrance and peered around the edge, facing the guards again. Their backs were still turned to him and fully focused into their conversation, or turned argument.
"Listen to me. Don't be so blue-eyed. I've been keeping an eye on this for ten years now. Every workplace. Every apartment. Everywhere, the same concrete. It's always being covered up. It's their fault. Take a look at yourself."
"That's bullshit. Scientists have developed this concrete. Scientists! That's the strongest and best concrete ever made! Medical experts have examined the mold and confirmed that it's harmless to humans. If you have a health problem, then it's because of your unhealthy living. That's the only reason."
"That's not tr- ghrk."
"Hm?" The confused guard looked over his shoulder, eyes widening in shock. A burst of yellow light burned through his helm before dropping like a sack of bricks. B.J. dropped the first guard's body after, pulling the blade out his throat. He wiped the blade clean on the black uniform. He climbed into the elevator and pulled the switch. The platform jolted before increasing in speed.
"Prisoners. This is General Wilhelm Strasse speaking." A heavily German-accented voice rang across the PA system. His jaw tightened, he felt the blood rushing into his face.
"Many of you know who I am." His grip tightened. The platform slowed to a stop at the top.
"...Many of you hate who I am." He walked off into a walkway, to the right of him was the glassed enclosure locked behind an handle-less door. Peering through revealed an officer sleeping soundly in his chair, feet propped on the console and cap over his eyes.
"But I am also the man who can grant you freedom." He slowly exhaled, walking off down the walkway. At the end, stood cell B-2 with a large steel door as its entrance; a yellow knocker on its face. He knocked thrice loudly on the door and waited. Locks audibly shifted before the door careened open, revealing a guard pulling a switch. Shocked and surprise contorted the Nazi's face before becoming that of horror. He lunged at the microphone resting on a table between the two men.
"ALAR- ugh!" A Bolt of yellow speared the Nazi's shoulder before more followed, killing him quickly. "Damn it..." He would have to be quick. His eyes settled on the locked forms of the rebels, on their knees handcuffed with metallic helms covering their whole heads with a chain leash. "Leashed up like animals... like damn animals." He activated his laser cutter and made short work of the chains and unlocking their restraints. Each prisoner landed on the dried-blood covered floor, giving muted grunts.
"Ugh! You stupid thing, will you budge?" Blazkowicz moved to help one of the prisoners, Fingers grasping the mask before prying it open.
...
"Damn thing..." The Nazi undergraduate fumbled in the innards of an Wachroboter, pulling a chip out. He held it up to the light of the bay, turning it from side to side. "It needs some cleaning..." He dubbed some rubbing alcohol onto a rag and wiped the chip gently with it. The movement making it harder to breath for a bit. He eyes peered around the room.
Multiple robots dotted the hanger like room from the imposing Wachroboters, their red eyes staring ahead, and the downright fearsome Panzerhunds, all inert. Other technicians worked on their piece of hardware, giving the machines their required maintenance with their prolonged stay at the prison. He placed the chip down, letting the alcohol dry off quickly before inserting it into a computer beside him. Lines of code scrolled past the screen as he intently watched. He spent a minute checking the diagnostics of the machine and inputting new code. Supposedly the brass wanted to make the bipedal bots more aggressive in their programming while enacting the complete opposite for the metallic hounds.
Seemed like the robotic dogs cause more property damage than the authorities wanted to admit, as the Panzerhunds always seem to go after their prey with reckless abandon. He's have to make the proper commands and reread the qualifications his supervisor wan-
"Hey kid, come here for a second." Speaking of which... An prison officer stood behind him as the technician turned around. "Got a job for ya. Need you to work on the camera system, follow me." Hans carefully lifted a bag of tools on his shoulder and followed the man through the complex, passing the occasional prison guard. "Something strange has been going on..., man on duty reported that the Camera system seemed to be glitching out. Saying that sometimes he could see things move when nothing is there." The prison guard turned his head back at the following mechanic, "As if this place was hunted. Bah!"
The older man only shook his head, opening a door; letting the young man through. The room they entered had a wall of monitors showing various locations of the prison complex, with a man seated right in front cup of coffee in his hands.
"Alright, I've brought the expert here; let him fix the problem ja?" The supervisor looked at the security guard with an impassive look.
"You're not listening to me. Something is going on here and it's not a 'technical issue'." The sitting man growled out. He pointed at one of the monitors, showing a scene of a prancing Panzerhund in front of a metallic door. "That is not suppose to be there, that walkway shouldn't be cut off, and that isn't because of a goddamn door malfunction."
"Which we don't know until the guys I've sent report back. Also, you know how Panzerhunds are. We had one of our guys playing fetch with one with mice before he got the boot and transferred out. Anything can agitate those things which is why he..." A thumb pointed in Hans direction. "Is here and should be working on than on your paranoia."
The supervisor pointedly looked at the youngest member and motioned his head at the console underneath the monitors. "Find out what's wrong with the system and fix it, come back to the hanger once your done. There'll still a lot of machines that need reprogramming." The man left, leaving the undergraduate and security guard to look at each other.
"Hah..., you heard him. Might as well get to it and do finish quickly, I have a job too you know." Hans could only sigh as he got onto his back, under the console and began to work. Minutes of silence passed by as he disassembled his way through, using tools to gauge whether everything was operating properly. He pushed off from the underside and climbed to his feet, grunting lightly in effort to lift himself.
"There's nothing wrong with the system, at least it doesn't appear so." The young man only groaned that out. A 'hmph' responded.
"I told him just the same, but he wouldn't have none of it. He'll be promoted within a week so he couldn't care less about it except covering up his problems till the- Look! Right there!" The guard pointed at a monitor, revealing a visage of the front of a door with white letters 'B-2' painted by its side. The knocker magically lifted by itself and knocked thrice on the door before said door opened and closed again.
"..."
"...We definitely need to report that." The guard grabbed a microphone off the table and pressed a button, the device crackling. Then the whole room shut off, covering the two in darkness.
"...I knew something was up. Why did I have to be right...?"
...
It must hunt. It must obey. Anything out of uniform is prey. It must hunt. It must obey. Anything out of unif- darkness enveloped its surroundings. It released a growl, static hissing. Camera lens dialed back and forth, it's 'sight' improving through the thin slits of its helm. It must hunt. It must obey. Anything out of uniform is prey. Its head turned, peering down the hallway. Not of uniform regulation. Out of uniform. Angry lines of code pulsed though its electrical veins, a static-filled growl hissing through bared teeth. Metallic claws dug grooves in asphalt before launching.
Prey. Prey. Prey. Prey. Prey. Prey. Prey. Prey. Prey. Pre- A leg pulled out from under it, causing the metallic body to tumble and scramble on the floor as it tried to get back up. Something climbed on its back, where its jaws couldn't reach. It continued to buck and thrash to throw the prey off het it refused to let go. Bashes of metal echoed in the corridor as it tried to bite the prey's legs, its own design not letting it. A metallic reach sounded out before it got kicked a meter away toward one end of the hall. Wobbly it stood up and glared at its prey before bounding after it. As it jumped, its vision went dark and it knew no more.