Ride of the Valkyries

"My God," General Harper said as he read the combat report and casualty list. He crushed the paper in his hand and slammed his fist on the desk. "ENOUGH of this! We're going on the offensive, and we're going to go all out. These evil, sick fuckers think they'll get away with something like this?! They're dead! Do you hear me? They are dead."

Hans nodded grimly, still in shock after witnessing the nerve agent attack. "What the Hell was that stuff, anyway?"

"Sarin, as far as our doctors can tell. The droplets were too clear, too water-like, to be Tabun or VX. Nasty, evil shit. Attacks the victim's muscular junctions, causes death through paralysis of the diaphragm. I'm telling you, Herr Eckhart, this is the final straw. We will bury these monarchists so far beneath the ground their bones will still be entombed after our sun burns out."

"What did you have in mind?" Hans asked.

Harper rummaged around through his papers and pulled out a few. "We're still going over all the information retrieved from the botanical gardens, but a lot of their order sheets refer to something called 'SC.' Past experiences reading NDM order sheets has taught us that these two-letter codes refer to locations. It is my opinion that SC refers to a palace of some kind. Schloss Caputh, Schloss Charlottenburg, or Schloss Cecilienhof. Two of those are technically outside of Berlin, in Potsdam to the south. If I had to bet, I'd put my money on Schloss Charlottenburg."

Harper showed Hans a map of Berlin with Schloss Charlottenburg circled. The palace was located on the banks of the river Spree, a few miles west of the Brandenburg Gate. The roads leading to it were also narrow, with the exception of the Otto-Suhr-Allee boulevard and Kaiser-Friedrich-Strasse, both of which terminated at the same point. A kill box. "The roads aren't very wide," Hans said.

"I know," Harper replied. "We're going to send in the vertibirds and power armor troops first to soften them up. The rest of our infantry will go in with the second wave. We've got a secret weapon of our own cooked up and ready to go. It'll be quite the surprise for the NDM, believe you me."

Hans didn't like the sound of that. "Not more nerve agents or chlorine gas or anything like that, I hope."

"Not at all," Harper said. "Trust me, we've got something more...conventional in mind. I'll pay you two grand to go on this mission, but I suspect you'd go anyway for the chance to bust out your buddy."

"If there's a chance that Paul's being held there then yes, I'd do it for free," Hans said. "But since you're offering anyway..."

Harper smiled, counted out the money, and handed it over to Hans. "I need to resupply anyway. When are we going?"

"Tomorrow morning," Harper said. "I don't want to give them any time to restock. If they had more Sarin shells they'd have hammered us all day long and then sent in a real assault force. This was just a test, meaning they're either about to get more Sarin shells or they're cooking up something even worse. Either way, we're going to hit them first."

"I'll be there," Hans said. With that he left the office and quickly ran downstairs and outside to the hangar behind the building. The market was especially busy, with the civilian farmers and teachers living on the base rushing to stock up. Settlers from other EAE bases and settlements were doubtless also there. Hans went straight to the clothier and bought a new set of armor, a set of American combat armor that matched the set he'd lost in the fire. From there he made a beeline for the arms dealer, who was already swamped with buyers.

"Traveler!" Helga shouted over the crowd, jumping in place to get Hans' attention. She turned over her guard to the rest of the buyers and turned to face Hans as he slipped through the crowd. "Thank God you're here! It's been crazy ever since that attack!"

Hans smiled. "Business is good, huh?"

"Too good!" Helga said. "They're gonna buy me out at this rate! I'm gonna have to raise prices."

"You'll give me a discount though, right?" Hans asked. Helga stuck her tongue out at him. "I guess not, then. Still. I need to resupply. We've got an even bigger fight coming up tomorrow, and I want to be ready."

Hans loaded up on ammo, as much as he could carry, for both the FG42 and Paul's STG (assuming they could find it after busting him out). He also snatched up every last grenade she had, spending most of the money that Harper had paid him. "At least you won't have to worry about getting food for a while."

Helga gave him a look. "You need to read these business magazines I found a few years ago! You need to have money to buy stuff, traveler! People don't just give me guns and bullets. That'd be really cool if they did, though! Then I'd be making even more money."

"I see," Hans said. "Well, I hope you do well either way. Tomorrow I'm gonna go bust my friend outta prison, and then we're gonna destroy the Neue Deutsche Monarchie. We'll come back and see you, alright?"

"Hey, wait!" Helga said, hands on her hips. "Why are you always talking to me, traveler? I mean, I'm glad you keep spending money on my stuff, but why don't you just buy and leave like all the other soldiers? You're not trying to fuck me, right? Willie will chop your balls off!"

"Where did you learn to talk like that?" Hans said. "Anyway, no, I don't want to touch you. I just... You remind me of someone. Someone very important to me. I'd do anything to have her back. Since I can't have that, then... I just hope you don't go down the same path she did. There isn't enough time to explain it all, but I think you're a good person, Fraulein Oertzen. I just wish that all this," Hans gestured around, "wasn't the world you lived in. When I think of the past, what life used to be like... Well, let's just say you deserved better. We all do."

Helga shrugged. "The past is really cool, but I don't live there. I live in the present, traveler."

"Yeah..." Hans said. He smiled. "I guess you do. Goodbye, Helga. I'll see you again when we get back."

"Goodbye, traveler!"

Hans awoke early the next morning, had his breakfast, and went outside to stand in the predawn darkness. As the sun started to rise the soldier of the Euro-American Enclave got moving, climbing into vertibirds and Hanomag halftracks. The vertibirds powered up and then took flight, loaded with American Panzertroopers. Hans and the other soldiers in the halftrack watched them go, the Hanomags soon accelerating to race after them.

On the ride, there was nothing to do but wait and either pray or make peace with one's probable death. The six halftracks split up across three roads leading to Schloss Charlottenburg, two to a road. Hans' team and partner squad took the A-100 west from Tempelhofer Feld, winding through the pre-war gridlock as fast as the drivers could. They followed the A-100 all the way to Spandauer Damm, where they turned right. Hans could hear the sound of the battle in the distance, getting louder as they got closer. He looked up and saw the vertibirds hovering over the courtyard outside Schloss Charlottenburg's front doors, door gunners bringing the pain on the NDM soldiers below.

The halftrack stopped, the rear doors were opened, and then they were all rushing out of the vehicle and into the nearest cover. The overwhelming roar of the battle filled the air, a chaotic din of gunfire, explosions, and the rotor blades of the vertibirds. Hans scrambled behind the hulk of an imported Chryslus, setting up the FG42's bipod on the car's hood. Ahead stretched a wide open space, cleared by the NDM to create a killing field.

Beyond that was the gate to the courtyard, heavily reinforced by the monarchists. The iron fence had been lined with sheet metal to obscure the courtyard and then lined with sandbags outside to fortify it. The front gate had been left open and turned into a machine gun bunker, built out of a combination of sandbags and wood planks to form the structure.

Hans opened fire on the bunker, joining several other soldiers doing the same and suppressing the team inside. One of the vertibirds overhead came around, an American Panzertrooper in the side door wielding a Gauss rifle. He fired on the bunker from above, the slugs from his gun blasting the makeshift bunker into pieces. With the bunker exposed someone threw a grenade, killing the soldiers inside. Two Americans dropped from the vertibird above, falling forty feet and landing completely unharmed. They moved forward, untouchable in their T-51 suits, and cleared the gate. Hans and the other EAE infantry pressed forward, emboldened by the air support and presence of Americans in power armor. A halftrack surged through the open gate, gunner firing at anything that moved. Hans followed it through and moved left, taking cover behind a sandbag wall.

*BOOM!*

The side of the halftrack was suddenly enveloped in a fireball that tore the tracks and road wheels from the frame. It grinded forward on momentum, coming to a stop when it collided with the eastern wall of Schloss Charlottenburg. At the far end of the courtyard, flanking the front doors of the palace, were two 88mm flak guns. The guns rotated to cover the gate, crews feverishly reloading the cannons.

An Enclave Panzer I pushed its way through the gate, apparently unaware of the 88s. One of the guns fired, spearing the light tank through from front back and blowing the turret into the sky. Hans swore and set up the paratrooper rifle; the distance between the gate and front doors was at least a hundred yards, all of it occupied by NDM fighting positions and soldiers.

With the FG42's bipod deployed Hans peered through the scope and fired short bursts, aiming for the 88s. They each had impressive sandbag walls around them, shielding the crews. Above the walls the barrel of the cannons turned ominously, each firing in turn so that one of the guns was always loaded and in action. The teams were well-trained, Hans had to give them that.

He moved up, scurrying around the sandbags and rushing forward to another sandbag wall. Two Kinderkriegsgruppe soldiers joined him, rifles in hand. Hans looked at them but they paid him no mind, instead focusing on the enemy. He rose into a crouch and added his gun to their fight, hoping to at least draw some fire away from the child soldiers.

At least they're smaller targets, he thought. God I hate this shit.

Everywhere around them the battle raged. The courtyard of Schloss Charlottenburg was boxed in, surrounded on three sides by the walls of the palace, giving the monarchists excellent fields of fire into the courtyard. The only thing keeping the Enclave on equal footing were the vertibirds and American Panzertroopers, stomping their way through the courtyard without a care in the world, slaughtering anything stupid enough not to run.

Hans reloaded, put the FG42 back in action, and was about to resume firing when a score of yellow lasers slammed into the sandbag wall, turning the sand within to glass. Bullets followed a second later, shattering the now-brittle sandbags. Hans dropped to the ground and the child soldiers did the same, hands on their helmets to keep them in place as shards of glass and copper and lead flew overhead.

From his position on the ground Hans saw movement to the right and looked, watching as an Opel truck was backed into the courtyard. The truck was guarded by two elite American Panzertroopers in the X-01 suits, Gatling lasers in hand. The tailgate was dropped, a ramp pushed out, and then two contraptions were quickly wheeled out and down the ramps. Their two-man crews rushed the devices forward and set them on the ground, and when Hans' realized what they were his blood ran cold.

The contraptions resembled Nebelwerfers, but only superficially. Instead of possessing 21cm rocket tubes the devices each bore eight American M42 nuclear catapults, arranged in a half-circle shape. The crews dropped to their knees, slung about their backpacks, and quickly pulled out the mini-nukes, placing the bombs in the catapults and resetting their firing mechanisms.

Hans was about to scramble over and stop them when a fresh burst of gunfire overhead forced him to remain in place. "DO NOT FIRE THOSE THINGS IN HERE YOU FUCKING LUNATICS!" he screamed, inaudible over the din of the battle.

"SIND DIE WAFFEN BEREIT?!" the crew leader shouted.

"DIE WAFFEN SIND BEREIT, KOMMANDANT!"

"ALLE ATOMWERFER, FEUER!"

Hans screamed, wishing he could crawl underground, in a vain attempt to drown out the ear-piercing shriek of the mini-nukes as the catapults were fired, flinging the bombs across the length of the Schloss Charlottenburg courtyard in just two seconds. All sixteen bombs hit the front facade of the ancient palace simultaneously, sending a titanic invisible wave across the courtyard, slamming everyone in it like a fist from God. The sound was unlike anything Hans had ever heard before, a nuclear maelstrom that felt like getting punched in both ears by a Panzertrooper. The light, the flash, the heat, it all crashed into everyone in the courtyard at once, giving birth for just a brief moment to a second sun that violently flared in the shadows of the courtyard, the heat scorching anyone not crushed flat by the blast.

A second later the debris came, carried aloft by the invisible arm sweeping across the courtyard. Glass, cobblestone, and body parts were all flung across the enclosed space, raining down all around them. As the sound of the bombs passed it was replaced by the roar of the raining debris, crashing and rolling and splattering to the ground below, showering everyone inside with pieces of both masonry and men.

"ALLE ATOMWERFER, FEUER!"

If Hans had any thoughts of running, they were quickly drowned out by the sound of sixteen more mini-nukes screaming across the morning Berlin sky, slamming into the scorched and shattered remains of the front façade of Schloss Charlottenburg. Whatever had survived the first bombing, be it flesh or stone, was erased by the second strike. It sent more bricks and bodies careening across the surface of the courtyard, the pieces and parts and chunks slamming into the sandbag walls and vehicles assembled there.

When it was over an eerie silence descended over the courtyard. Hans lifted his head and slowly stood, dazed and stunned by what had just happened. A thick veil of dust and brown smoke drifted through the courtyard, kicked up by the blast waves. All around him EAE soldiers were slowly lifting themselves off the ground and standing, as shocked as he was. As Hans looked around the wind swept away the dust cloud, revealing the level of destruction the mini-nukes had wrought. The entire courtyard had been trashed, sandbags and bodies and debris strewn about randomly. The west and east walls of the palace were curved inward, having been pushed on by the shockwave as it tried to escape the confines of the courtyard. The buildings windows had all been blown away or melted, leaving them just holes in the walls of the palace.

When Hans saw the front façade, however, his breath stopped. The entire center structure of Schloss Charlottenburg, having stood since the 18th century, was gone. The combined force of all 32 mini-nukes had completely erased the center structure, leaving it a glassy crater, the surfaces and corners of the remaining stones melted smooth by the heat from the bombs. The center tower, its cupola, its cornice, were all gone. Erased. Devoured by the atomic firestorm.

What he saw by what had just a few minutes ago been the front doors was what horrified Hans the most. The blast and unfathomable heat from the bombs had shattered and partially melted the 88mm flak guns. The inferno had melted the skin and organs of the gun crews, fusing their blackened bones together and adhering them to the cannons. They remained where they had died, sitting on the seats of the flak guns, frozen in place.

"My God..." Hans whispered, still in shock.

*FZEW!*

Hans flinched as a single laser rifle shot rang out, the yellow bolt coming from one of the windows and hitting an EAE soldier in the chest. The laser bore through his body and turned him to ash, his remains dropping to the floor unceremoniously. The Enclave soldiers scrambled for whatever cover remained and returned fire, the battle resuming in earnest. Hans went prone, deployed the bipod, and opened fire, aiming for any window that had laser bolts or plasma orbs flying out of it.

An American Panzertrooper stomped by, a plasmacaster held at his waist. He fired relentlessly, the green orbs glowing brightly off the clouds of dust that still lingered in the courtyard. The crews of the atomwerfers retreated, frantically pushing the contraptions back up the ramp to the Opel, which drove away a moment later to allow two EAE Panzer Is and a single Panzer II to enter the courtyard. The light tanks spread out, sweeping the windows and walls of Schloss Charlottenburg.

Where's the Panther, Hans thought. It occurred to him that the NDM hadn't thrown in their heavy tank yet, which made him nervous. Nonetheless he had no choice but to press forward with the tanks and other infantry. The vertibirds roared overhead, coming to a stop and dropping a fresh squad of American Panzertroopers into the ruins of Schloss Charlottenburg. Hans charged straight for the gaping crater that had once been the palace's center section, his Geiger counter on his waist clicking steadily as he neared ground zero. He ignored it, climbing into the rubble and heading left, to the west wing of the building.

The NDM was waiting for them here, dug in behind tables and couches and any other cover they could find. Hans was about to open fire when a Panzertrooper pushed past him, minigun in hand. The dark hall was suddenly and brilliantly lit by the ceaseless flash of the American's minigun, the bullets shredding through everything in their path. Hans watched, horrified, as he ventilated every single monarchist in the hall, bathing the walls and floor in their blood. He stomped forward, minigun spooling down, and pressed on, leaving bloody footprints in his wake. He rounded a corner and disappeared from sight, his minigun coming to life again.

Hans was about to follow him when the American came thundering back around the corner, running as fast as he could in the heavy suit, yelling the same word in English over and over again. Hans remained where he was, watching as a Panzerbot came grinding around the corner. Except it didn't resemble any Panzerbot he'd ever seen. Whereas the usual German Panzerbot had a bowl-shaped chassis with turret on top, supported by two triangle-shaped tread assemblies, this one had four gear-like wheels, tilted at five degrees, supporting a body that was longer and more tub-shaped. Atop it was an 88mm flak gun, encased in a steel shroud that bore six AI bubble turrets sporting MG42s.

A Sturmgeschutzroboter.

"JESUS CHRIST!" Hans screamed, beating feet out of there as the StuGBot turned and gave chase, its wheels grinding the tiles beneath to powder. The StuGBot stopped and turned, its right-side wheels turning while its left wheels remained locked, bringing the robot around to the left and facing out the open space that had become the palace's center. It fired, the blast sending loose stones and glass flying through the air, and then it was moving again. Hans scrambled into the corner and let the automatron grind past him before he scurried back into the palace, keeping low. He went back to the hall, crouching besides a corner. He heard footsteps and looked, surprised to see a duo of Enclave KKG soldiers. The same from the courtyard. They recognized him and lowered their weapons.

"Did you see that thing? What on Earth was that?!" the boy said.

"It looked like a comic book machine," the girl said.

"Stay focused," Hans told them. "We're here on a rescue mission."

The teenagers looked confused. "I thought we were here to kill monarchists."

Jesus, Hans said, just what are they teaching these kids?

"The monarchists are holding an important prisoner here," Hans said. "We need to find and rescue him. He's being held in some kind of basement. Let's go find him."

Hans hated lying to them but the battle was raging elsewhere, deeper in the palace. If his lies kept them out of the fight then he could live with that. The kids joined him and together the three of them went down the hall, going in the direction the StuGBot had come from. Hans peeked around the corner, saw that it was clear, and moved down it with the teens in tow. Halfway down the hall he came across a staircase, going down. He stopped by it and looked down, checking for any signs of the enemy.

"I'm gonna go check it out," Hans said. "Stay here and watch the steps."

The kids nodded and Hans carefully traipsed down the stairs, gun at the ready. The safest way to clear a descending staircase was to just lob grenades down it, lest one took the risk of getting their legs shot as they came down, but the risk of accidentally bombing his friend was too great, so Hans had no choice but to walk down the stairs without any kind of cover.

He reached the bottom alive and proceeded down the hall, hugging the left wall. There was a door to the left ahead and beyond that a corner, going right. Hans tried the door, found it was unlocked, and went inside. To his surprise it was Kaiser Gaston's underground office, though there was no sign of the mechanical monarch.

Hans shut the door and went down the hall, clipping his flashlight to his FG42 and flicking it on. The pale beam of yellow light slashed through the dust and gloom, illuminating the corners. The hall ended in another staircase, going down. Hans took it one step at a time, moving slowly and keeping his ears open. He heard a man coughing and complaining to himself and kept going, hands clutching the paratrooper rifle tightly. He emerged in a hallway lined with prison cells.

"Goddamn dust," the man said quietly to himself.

"Paul?" Hans called, sweeping the light across the bars of the cells. He brought the flashlight to a rest on a man wearing familiar clothes and an even more familiar smile.

"Hans? Thank God. Get me out of here before the whole palace collapses on top of us."

Hans didn't have a key, but a bullet was the next best thing. He told Paul to step aside, pressed the muzzle of the FG42 to the lock at an angle, and fired. The 8mm Mauser AP round shattered the iron lock with ease, sending its shards to the floor. Hans tore the remains from the door and yanked it open, allowing his friend to step out. The two of them embraced, Paul slapping Hans' shoulder when he stepped back. "Knew you'd come, buddy! What'd do you, bring Erich? He's the only one I know crazy enough to bomb the building holding someone he was trying to save."

"I want to blame the Yanks, but I can't. They are here, though. They've got their Panzertroopers stomping around the place, killing everything on two feet. No, those bombs were courtesy of our fellow Germans, wheeling around a nuclear Nebelwerfer."

Paul whistled. "Sure sounded like the end of the world out there. Well, the second end of the world."

"You don't know the half of it," Hans said, trying not to think about it. "Let's get out of here."

"Hey, wait," Paul said. "Let's go take a look at the Kaiser's office first. I doubt he's still here, but we can at least take a look at his papers and see if he's gone anywhere."

Hans nodded and got moving down the hall, Paul at his side. "You're right, he's not here. I checked his office already. But I didn't look at any of his papers." The two of them headed back to the underground office and went inside, making sure it was clear before approaching the desk. It was neatly organized, and from what Hans could tell it hadn't been cleared. He pulled out some of the papers and looked them over, trying to find anything of importance.

"What the Hell are the Four Horsemen?" Paul asked, looking over a flashcard-sized sheet of paper. Hans snatched it out of his hands and frantically read it over, his mouth suddenly dry. It was an order sheet, written in the NDM's usual shorthand style.

'Four Horsemen egress SZ for deployment TF 08-07-2100 0600 remit Panth and guard.'

"He's taken them to this SZ place," Hans said, more to himself.

"You can read that? It looks like gibberish to me."

Hans set the paper down. "The Four Horsemen is Sarin nerve agent. His forces fired a couple dozen artillery shells of the shit at Tempelhofer Feld yesterday, damn near killed me. He's got more of it and he's taken it to SZ, whatever that is."

"Jesus!" Paul said. "They're using nerve gas artillery now? My God... I don't even know what to say."

Hans looked at the paper again and at the map of Berlin on the desk, studying it intently. "These two-letter codes refer to locations. TF is almost certainly Tempelhofer Feld, and the date... That's tomorrow at 6:00am. He's going to shell the base with Sarin again."

"So what's SZ then?"

"I don't know..." Hans said, trailing off as he studied the map. His eyes came to rest on a spot by the river Spree and he stopped, studying it more closely. It was a fortress, judging by the shape and location. One of the dozens of old forts and palaces that sat on the banks of the once-strategically-important river.

The name was Spandau Zitadelle.

"This must be it," Hans said, pointing to the fortress.

Paul looked at it and nodded. "It's our best bet, at least. C'mon, let's get out of here."

The two of them left the office and rushed back to the stairs, heading up them and rejoining the KKG soldiers standing guard there. Paul wisely didn't say anything, for which Hans was grateful. "We got what we came here for," Hans said. "Let's find him a weapon and then get out of here."

The kids nodded and took off back the way they'd come, rushing around the corner without looking first. Hans didn't even have time to think about their mistake before they screamed, first in fear and then agony as a jet of napalm suddenly spurted down the hall, engulfing them in flames. They screamed and screamed as they burned alive, thrashing around on the floor.

A moment later a monarchist in a German SPAS suit came around the corner, hefting a flamethrower. He saw Hans and Paul and raised the weapon, igniting the pilot at the end of the nozzle. "RUN!" Hans yelled, grabbing Paul and tearing off down the other way. The inferno chased after them, the burning globules of napalm sticking to the walls and floor. Hans and Paul ran as fast as they could, slowing as they neared the back door of the palace. Outside, in the gardens behind Schloss Charlottenburg, the battle raged. The once beautifully trimmed and manicured gardens had been turned into a network of trenches and foxholes, occupied by both Enclave troops and the monarchists, locked in a pitched battle.

Hans jumped into a hole along with Paul, watching the back door. Sure enough their fiery friend followed them out, standing briefly on the rear steps before rushing to join the fight. The battle raged all around them, a familiar chaotic din. What was not familiar, however, was the odd rhythmic thumping he heard nearby. A vertibird screamed overhead, passing over the river and coming around. Hans followed the thumping noise and saw a quad-barrel 20mm flakvierling gun nearby, crew frantically turning the gun to bring it to bear. They unleashed the gun on the American aircraft as it flew at them head-on, shredding the plexiglass cockpit and aluminum frame, sending the rotorcraft plunging into the ground below. The crew rotated and lowered the gun, bringing it to bear on the EAE infantry in the trenches. The crew caught an American Panzertrooper in the open, tearing his T-51 suit apart like it was a tin can.

"OK, that's a problem!" Paul shouted. Hans deployed the FG42's bipod, aiming for the NDM Panzertroopers. He found the one with the flamethrower and was about to open fire when the soldier was intercepted by an American Panzertrooper wielding a proton axe. The energy blade effortlessly slashed through the monarchist's SPAS armor, cutting off his arms and opening up his chest before the American stepped over his dead body, looking for his next victim.

With the flamethrower out of the fight Hans shifted left, targeting the crew of the anti-aircraft gun. The weapon was on a shielded mount, protecting them from the front and sides and preventing Hans from getting a clear shot. He was about to open fire anyway when Paul yelled "COVER ME!" and scrambled out of the hole, running for a nearby trench.

"PAUL, ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND?!"

Paul jumped into the trench and popped back up a moment later, STG-44 in hand. He waved at Hans, who pulled out the mags he'd bought for his friend and threw the bag they were in over to him. Armed and angry, Paul was free to join the fight, firing short bursts at the NDM's positions.

Hans set up the paratrooper rifle and joined in, suppressing an NDM position and giving a fellow Enclave team a chance to toss a grenade into their trench. As far as Hans could tell, the AA gun was the only reason the Americans hadn't slaughtered the monarchists yet. It would have to be removed.

Hans scrambled out of his hole and ran to another trench, ventilating a monarchist as he tried to bring his rifle into play. Hans dropped into the trench just as the AA crew brought the gun around, opening up on his position and the American Panzertroopers near it. Their shells slammed into the ground around him like hammers, making him grit his teeth. They fired for just a few seconds before turning to focus on their next target, the four guns thundering relentlessly.

"HANS!" Paul screamed over the roar of the battle. Hans peeked up over the edge of the trench and saw his friend still in the hole, reloading his Sturmgewehr. "HANS! GET THE FLAMMENWERFER!"

Oh for God's sake.

The flammenwerfer and its dead owner were just a few feet away, lying on the ground. With the AA gun in an armored enclosure bullets weren't going to cut it. Their only options were use grenades or a flamethrower. Hans glanced at the weapon, still strapped to the back of its owner. "COVER ME!" he screamed to Paul, dropping the paratrooper rifle and scrambling out of the trench. He dropped to the ground next to the Panzertrooper and used his knife to cut the straps of the flammenwerfer, dragging it off him and standing up. With the heavy weapon in hand Hans ran across the field, bullets and lasers flashing all around him. He was maybe thirty feet from the AA gun when a burst of 9mm bullets hit him in the side, slamming into the American combat armor he was wearing. Knocked off balance by the hits he fell to the ground, dropping the flamethrower.

"HANS!" Paul screamed, returning fire on the monarchists who'd shot at Hans. "HANS! GET UP!"

Hans groaned and lifted his head. Ahead the crew of the flakvierling were bringing the gun around to bear, the muzzles of the 20mm autocannons lifting into the sky to track another Enclave vertibird as it roared overhead. The crew opened fire on the aircraft, riding the triggers and emptying the magazines in an attempt to shoot down the aircraft. The pilot banked and they missed, quickly reloading and bringing the gun back into action. Hans dragged the flammenwerfer towards him and rose into a kneeling position, bringing the nozzle of the Wechselapparat into action. The crew of the AA gun fired again, close enough that the blasts from the 20mm rattled the teeth in Hans' skull. One of the crewmembers saw him, yelled to his teammates, and then they were rotating the gun towards him, its barrels slowly and ominously dropping to be level with him. Hans screamed in a primal rage as he jammed down the lever of the ancient flamethrower, unleashing the inferno upon the crew of the AA gun. The pressurized flames shot through any and every opening on the shielded enclosure of the AA gun, swirling around inside and roasting the crew to death.

Hans dropped the flammenwerfer and was about to get up when he was shot again, the bullet hitting him square in the back of his breastplate. He fell to the ground, weakly scrabbling at the soil to drag himself towards Paul's trench. The vertibird above came around, its roaring rotors whipping up a whirlwind. Hans rolled onto his back and saw a monarchist charging towards him, MP5 in hand. With his FG42 back in the trench and the flamethrower too far away Hans' only choice was to grab the Mars Automatic. His hands clawed at the clasp to his holster, trying to release it. Paul opened fire on the solder just as an elite American Panzertrooper stepped out of the vertibird, dropping straight to the ground. He landed right in front of the monarchist, accidentally intercepting Paul's bullets. They shattered against the plates of his X-01 suit, leaving him unharmed and inadvertently saving the monarchist's life.

The monarchist's luck ended there. Shocked by the sudden appearance of the American he stumbled to a stop, dropping his gun in the process. The American grabbed the soldier by the arm and yanked him forward, dislocating his arm. Hans watched in a mix of awe and horror as the American slugged the man in the face, shattering every single tooth in his mouth and dislocating his jaw so hard the bone broke through the flesh. Screaming, blood flowing out of his lips and cheek, the monarchist was helpless to stop the American as he drew the handle of a proton axe from his side. He flicked his wrist and the energy weapon's blue blade flicked to life, the hum audible even over the battle. The American yanked the monarchist again and released him, sending him stumbling towards the proton axe on momentum. He screamed as the blade flashed through his midsection, separating his upper body from the lower and sending both halves to the ground with a bloody *plap!*

Hans didn't wait to see what the American did next. He staggered to his feet and ran back to his trench, grabbing his FG42 and reloading. With the AA gun out of action the Americans were free to rampage through the NDM positions, butchering the monarchists where they stood. Hans, Paul, and the rest of the German and American Fieldmen of the Euro-American Enclave watched as the American Panzertroopers marauded their way through the monarchists, turning them to steaming piles of ash or goo with their laser and plasma guns or punching enormous holes through their bodies with their Gauss rifles. The battle turned from a protracted fight into a bloodbath, the Americans steadily walking through the carnage and dropping victim after victim, utterly untouchable in their suits. A few wise souls dropped their guns and either surrendered and ran, but it didn't matter to the Americans. They shot, blasted, clubbed, bludgeoned, stabbed, or incinerated every single soldier of the Neue Deutsche Monarchie that remained.

When it was over the gardens behind Schloss Charlottenburg were silent save for the moans of the wounded Enclave soldiers. Hans climbed out of his trench and Paul did the same, a grim look on both their faces. They watched as the Americans picked through the bodies of the monarchists, looking for wounded to execute. Hans ran a hand through his hair and sighed, his hands shaking. "Jesus Christ..."

"Yeah," Paul said. He slung his STG over his shoulder and blew out a breath. "We need to get word to Harper. Let him know that Gaston ran."

The two of them joined up with the rest of the EAE Fieldmen, looking for someone who had a radio. They found a squad leader standing next to planter, radio in hand. They explained what they knew and the soldier nodded, handing his radio over to Hans.

"General Harper? It's Herr Eckhart. Can you hear me? End."

"Herr Eckhart, good to hear from you. Did you get Herr March out of there? End."

"I did. Listen, Kaiser Gaston's not here. We went through the papers in his office and think he ran to Spandau Zitadelle, a few miles away from here. Judging from the order sheet we found, I think he has more Sarin there. He's planning to unleash it on Tempelhofer Feld tomorrow at 6:00am. End."

He heard Harper sigh through the radio. "Jesus Christ. Listen, Herr Eckhart. The fight to take Schloss Charlottenburg has hurt us bad. We won, no doubt, but the initial reports from my squad leaders there tells me it was a hard fight. We're down three vertibirds plus the same number of tanks, as well as several halftracks and an unknown number of dead and wounded. I want to help you, but I can't. I'm going to order an evacuation of Tempelhofer Feld, move us all somewhere else until the Kaiser is dealt with. End."

Hans looked at Paul, who nodded. "We'll take care of the Kaiser, don't worry. End."

"By yourselves? God's sake, Hans, I know your track record is impressive but do you really think you can pull it off?"

"It's either that or we let Gaston gas thousands of people, kids among them. I won't stand around and let him do it."

Harper was silent for a few moments. "Then Godspeed to you. The both of you. End."

Hans handed the radio back to the squad leader and looked at Paul, who unslung his STG. Hans nodded, swung his FG42 around, and then the two of them got moving, racing against time to reach Spandau Zitadelle.

And put an end to all of this.