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 forgot to mention this in the prologue, but this story will be violent, there will be cursing, and there will be racism along with all kinds of messed up things. This is a story about Wolfenstein where there is a Nazi Regime. As explicitly why this story is rated as M. Consider yourself warned.
"Internal monologue"
"Regular speech"
"Foreign language translated"
"Scratch that! We need to get out of here! Like now!"
"Options?"
"I'm thinking. Yes. I know, I know, think faster. Maybe there's a way to-"
A pillar of gold shone and twirled in the middle of the collapsing forerunner complex. Machineries of countless years falling, threatening to crush the spartan.
"Was that you?"
"Would it help if I said yes?"
"Probably."
"But we don't know where it's going. Or even if it's going anywhere."
"Any other suggestions?"
"No, but this is a really bad idea!"
...…….…...…….…...…….…...…….…...…….…...…….…...…
"It's the break of dawn. July 16, 1946. Everything's gone to shit. The Nazi War Machine is advancing at an astonishing rate. We can't catch up. Our tactics are failing. Outclassed and outgunned, and nobody knows why. People are getting desperate. Not me, I'm here to meet an old friend and settle a score, Turn this thing around."
"Death at the gates again. Howling my name. Can't greet you today. I have a war to win." Fergus brought B.J. Blazkowicz back to life, eyes finally opened to meet the man after beating his chest like a drum.
"A beast built by Deathshead. Should've killed that man long ago" This machine that tore throughout the battlefield without remorse and brutality as its sadistic master intended smoldered as a wreck by B.J.'s feet.
"Private Wyatt. Good kid." Blazkowicz grasped the Private's hand and hauled himself up. Scarred blue eyes regarded the naive blue ones.
"I'm sorry, Sirs. I didn't see him." A last breath muttered. A pang of remorse quickly pushed down and used to fuel the fire within.
"Bring my Bonnie back to me~!" Fergus sang with the hail of gunfire exchange back and forth. Bullets whizzing past heads, the tide turned when an OSA member grabbed the handles of one of the death machines placed on the balconies and added his own song of steel.
"Blazkowicz, Sir. Have you seen anything like thi-" A pale hand tore through it's containment cell and grabbed the allied soldier's head. Despite the pleads and screams along with the best efforts of the squad unleashing lead on the Armored Nazi Frankenstein, a crushed head was rewarded for their efforts.
"Grab a hold of yourself private. It's war. People die." The room became smaller and smaller. Crushing everyone inside, their bodies protesting with death crowding their vision till blissful black met them all.
"So long since I've practiced my English... it's a dying tongue" Those same monstrosities held everyone down with ease. Their breathing heavy, regulated, machine like. Wilhile Deathshead analyzed the allied soldiers with a critical eye. As nothing more than lab rats.
"I like the eyes of this one." Deathshead admired the young Wyatts who trembled under his predatory gaze.
"Don't you fucking touch him!" Fergus glared with Scottish fury.
"I like yours too." Deathshead didn't wither when he stared right back.
"Captain Blazkowicz. Help me make a choice. In your opinion which one of these two varieties would best support my research?"
"No... don't do this..."
"I have inadequate room for samples. Should you decline my appeal, I shall have to put the scalpel to both of them, and we'd be here all day. I'll make matters... simple. All you need to do is look to one you would have me dissect."
"No... no... not this"
"Go on, Captain. Make a choice for me." Impatience bled through. He made his choice and shifted his gaze.
"It's okay, Blazko. It's war. People die."
"Not like this they shouldn't"
"My time's up, is all."
"Inhale. Count to four. Exhale. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Inhale. One...two...three...four... exhale. The smell of copper became thicker, more fresh. Blazkowicz felt like he was dying along with the man. The screaming didn't stop, the wet squelching sounds only mutilated flesh can make till a sickening pop signified the end of this hell. "I will kill you deathshead. I. will. kill. you."
"Heavenly Father, help me! Help me, God! Why are you doing this to me?! Why?!" The one-eyed man's pleads were overtaken by the nozzles steadily fueling up, promising death by inferno.
"Captain Blazkowicz, move!" All three men jumped out the window, as the broken nozzles finally exploded from built pressure. Launching shrapnel everywhere, two men were lucky. Blazkowicz was not. The watery depths met him all the same.
"Can't remove the shrapnel." A Doctor conversing with a Nurse in... Polish?
"...no brain."
"Like Scrambled eggs in there"
"Take him to the Asylum"
"He's awake." A pretty woman came into view. Brunette. A Nurse.
"How can you tell?" Another Nurse. Older. With a bit of mirth in her eyes.
"Trust me mother, I know."
"Darling! Your daughter has mysterious powers!" A doctor bounded toward the pair from the far room and kissed his wife.
"It's your daughter. I only donated the secret sauce." As quickly as he came, he left back to the room.
"Father!" The daughter admonished.
"Strange sensation, trapped in my body. I black out, I'm losing time. Sometimes seasons change in the blink of an eye. I'm...having trouble with my thoughts.They dissipate like a scent on the wind. A good family... they take care of the patients. Care for them... help them... like me. Through holidays they hold celebrations, birthdays parties. Then the bad days arrived, Nazis arriving to take patients away for experiments and worse under orders of General Deathshead. Deathshead's own private candy store. The father, a shrink, always raises a fuss, but in the end he signs the paperwork. No choice, I suppose. Good people like them powerless against evil men... powerless like I am now. I'm getting better though. Because of her. Her name is Anya. She takes good care of me. She takes care of everyone. She holds the place together.
"We are shutting this place down. Your services are no longer needed."
The armed Reich soldiers came again with the Eye-patched man again. The declaration stunning the Shrink and Anya while I sat on the wheel chair for years. Patches swiftly turned on his heel and barked out proceed in German the soldiers giving nods in return. All the Nazis bastards left except one. Bastard number 1 broke Anya and the shrink out of their stupor when he shoved a pillow on one of the patient's face, pressed his handgun barrel against it, and fired.
"I need a weapon" Blazkowicz hurriedly grabbed the knife Anya used right before to cut his food and hid it from sight. Both daughter and father fought with the bastard. Anya reached him first and received head trauma courtesy of the grip of the pistol. The father snapped and fought for the gun. The mother ran from out the room and aided her husband. Bastard number one pushed both away and executed them both. Bastards two and three came in.
"What are you doing?!"
"What? They attacked an officer on duty."
"We are not ordered to purge the staff."
"What do we do about this one?"
"I don't know. Take her to Keller. Let him decide."
"Patche's name is Keller, huh? Doesn't matter, he'll die just the same."
Bastards two and three grabbed a stirring Anya, who snapped awake. Her screams for help and struggling were unanswered as she was dragged away leaving bastard one to execute all the patients one by one. Each patient screaming till their last breath and the bastard finally came to B.J., kicking the stool Anya sat on not a minute ago and shoving the tray of food away. The soldier... no a young man, leveled the barrel at his face. No remorse, no regret, just another day on the job for him.
"A evil man." A shove on the barrel.
"Not a killer. A murderer." Blazkowicz's right arm snaked around the boys neck.
"A Nazi in my way." The knife cleaved through his throat.
"Nazi scum." The light in the boy's eyes dimmed to nothingness and the body dropped like a sack of bricks.
"Anya. Where'd they take you?" B.J. Blazkowicz is back and here to finish the fight.
...…….…...…….…...…….…...…….…...…….…...…….…..
Chief ran through the pillar of light and felt the familiar acceleration and immense velocity as if he were shot through a MAC. Then came the worse part, the feelings of being dismantled and put back together again at the end of it. As his vision cleared immediately, he took in his surroundings and realized two important details. He was a foot in the air... and upside down.
"Not again..."
1000 lbs of pure spartan dropped far too quickly into the asphalt below creating a spartan-like impression. The Spartan's health was in better condition than his pride as he had no problems bringing himself to arms taking in his surroundings immediately. Though bearing his rifle to scan said surroundings ended up terrifying the crowd that had backed away from his landing. The terrified crowd pushed and shoved to avoid his line of fire and ran down the streets or into alleys. Screams and shouts diminished as they gained ground.
"Chief put your gun down!" The weapon materialized in his left hand, his firearm hand already lowered. It didn't make any sense, he was on Zeta Halo and went through the teleportation grid. He should have either died or ended up somewhere else on the ring. Not this... concrete metropolis. Wait... there were banners and flags. Red as blood draped across gray walls with pure white dots with a bold black swastika right in the center. As if the walls had eyes that watched your every move, always judging you as a individual and struck you down with an iron fist if you were subpar.
Signs, posters, advertisements, newspapers and any form of literature in sight is written in German. There was no signs of advanced technologies to show he was in territory of the UNSC. Nor was the fist of the insurgents present to signify he was in an insurgent controlled city. This isn't the UNSC nor the insurgents, this is something different.
"Where are we?"
"I'm not sure..."
"Halt! Lass deine Waffe fallen!"