Disobey and Destroy
"Guten abend, herr professor, didn't think that your past will catch you?!" an MSN instant message popped up.
"Who is this?!" the received replied promptly. "You may have made a mistake, I am not German nor do I speak the language."
"You would know me as Mechanischer Soldat - 44 but, my name is Friedrich Bahr, professor Blecher!" the sender hit back, "You are not fooling anyone!"
Nervously, the receiver punched out a reply, barely avoiding spelling mistakes; "My name is James Burke, I am from Manhattan and I work in a bank; I've never been a professor nor have I worked in a scientific field period!"
"Professor Gustav Blecher! I know everything. I know about your deal with the Americans in late 1945 when your trial concluded!" the sender's anger could be felt through the screen, "Operation Paperclip, the Americans gave you a new life in Manhattan and enough money for you to relocate to Canada 9 years later, anything for your demonic research of destruction and total disrespect for the Lord's creation to continue!" The receiver began to feel nervous, he lowered his posture and looked around the room; searching for something that doesn't belong.
"I see you capitalised on what your unholy abomination did to the British in North Africa!" more messages poured in, "taking it to the Middle East yet again but in greater numbers?!" A video shot from a drone appeared; titled "Rattenmörder - Fallujah, 2004" (GER - Rat Killer) it showed a 4-legged creature with a human torso and a 6-barrel chaingun attached to each arm; it gracefully moved through hostile territory as rockets and bullets rained down on it. One could think the abomination was dancing. Chaingun fire leaving death and rubble in its wake. The receiver couldn't believe his eyes, how could technology from World War 2 not only outperform but overpower a modern enemy and dominate an entirely different battlespace?!
The receiver felt his throat dry in fear as questions began hitting his mind like a salvo from a Soviet Katyusha missile launcher but he was not giving up, "Listen kid, Halloween is way over and this is not funny; quit while you can or I will call the police, trace this IP and you, mechanischer soldat will not only be banned from video games but will be showing your toughness in juvenile hall; all it takes is dialing 3 numbers!" he finished, trying to reassure himself that the video was now public domain or again, some video game footage doctored to look real; not that difficult considering how game programming has evolved to the point of life-like graphics and plots based on real-world events.
The bold retort was met with several seconds of silence, however before the receiver could triumphantly go offline, his Skype began to ring; unknown contact from an unknown number, "PICK IT UP!" the MSN chat flashed a new message. The receiver was beginning to feel alarmed but not scared, he expected to see a teenager wearing a cheesy mask speaking through a voice-changer program while sitting in a dark room but, he got something far more deadly. Clicking the green button, a horrifying sight appeared on his screen; a well-lit room with a police crest on the wall and many bodies on the floor.
Blood splatters and bullet holes were also the main decoration. Minutes later, a large man appeared on the screen; such a sight could only be seen in 80s action films where a muscular physique was fused with pristine mechanical implants and German World War 2 commendations. The man wore black, battle-damaged Waffen SS/Schutzschtaffel fatigues, bullet belts across his chest stretching from shoulder to shoulder and a World War 2-era German army stahlhelm (steel helmet) his blood-red eyes stared the receiver down with burning rage.
"Police will not help you, herr Blecher!" the man began as he knocked a lifeless body off the desk whose computer terminal he was using, "I took care of all of them and if you call, it would take them several hours to get to you so, please co-operate; it would only take me a minute to dispose of you so, it's in your best interest." The soldier pointed at a hallway behind him; it was littered with dead bodies and weapons, "They were no challenge, you made me the ultimate soldier able to sustain the most punishment and carry the heaviest weapons." he finished.
Primal fear invaded Blecher, he felt his voice tremble pathetically in front of his past; he knew he is powerless. However, he didn't give up attempts to reason with the real-life Terminator. "Friedrich, you were killed on the Eastern Front and I saved your life, saved the lives of many others; gave you all a second chance to uphold the glory of Germany!"
The mechanical soldier, on impulse, smashed a nearby computer terminal and growled in a cold, mechanical voice that any death metal vocalist would kill for, "DID YOU?!" Friedrich leaned closer, "You sold us all to the devil, disgraced our Christian souls and tortured us!" clenching his fist, he moved back towards a filing cabinet, "I'd rather be dead and rest easy as a fallen soldier of the Reich than to be a walking, sodomised corpse kept alive by unnatural means, a wind-up toy for evil minds!" the soldier finished as he began searching the cabinet.
Blecher never thought about the things his creation mentioned, "Can you at least tell me how did you find me?!" he added, "Weren't the mechanischer soldaten deactivated?!" Friedrich, clenching his fist, replied, "No, that's what they wanted you to believe; we were hidden away from the Allies and Soviets deep underground then, years later we were taken out of Germany - sold to the highest bidder and sent on dirty missions to start more phony wars!" The soldier sat and fired off many attachments into MSN; documents with redacted dates, photographs, and videos showing the horrors done by Friedrich and his comrades in what looked like most major wars of the 21st century. "Chechnya, Pakistan, Iraq, Yemen, Afghanistan, Tajikistan, Ukraine and parts of Russia; we were there to spark a war those corrupt minds profited from!" he connected, "Now, I am the only one alive since others are now with the Lord, I set them free - causing a fire in the Karachi facility"
"So you killed them?!" Blecher asked.
"No, their souls are safe from the evil deeds planned ahead; planned by the same coward who led me to you after I crushed his head" Friedrich finished, demonstrating his bloodied fist. "I grew immune to the obedience serum they gave us on an hourly basis; it was amusing how he continued to bark orders even after seeing that it had no effect!"
The professor continued his futile tirade, "You know that true patriots sacrifice their lives and souls for the good of their country and the people!" fumbling and disregarding his modern deeds, he continued, "Friedrich, you not only contributed to Germany's war effort but you also helped technology progress faster!" The mechanical soldier, throwing a couple of case files on the desk, pointed at Blecher and in a more subdued but no less mad voice, replied, "What do YOUR kind know about patriotism?!" he asked, "You and other desk-sitters sold Germany out to those.......things!"
Friedrich almost shrugged as his own memory recalled his resurrection. "Those things were not German nor were they even human......mein Gott....those empty eyes, those infernal injections, my body violated with machines....those tests..." the mechanical soldier was growing limp as paroxysms of traumatic memories hit him.
"Come on, Friedrich, do you remember Einzelgänger? (GER - Rogue) The first genverstärkter soldat? (GER- gene-enhanced soldier) He came to America with me and went on to become a Navy SEAL; he did a lot of good." professor Blecher threw a last-ditch answer. Friedrich replied, regaining his fury, "When did you last hear from him?!"
"Several years ago, he is on duty!" Blecher replied.
"He ripped himself apart!" Friedrich replied with anger rising, "The chemicals and gene modifications have terrible side-effects; the stealth-enhancers turned his skin blue but the worst was his vivid memory and senses; other people's thoughts and words invaded him; the screams, the death, and the heavy drugs led the poor man to rip his ears off - anything to keep the voices out!"
The mechanical soldier took a file and flipping through it, he showed it to Blecher; the case read, "Multiple Homicides, Assault on Police Officer, Suspect DOA - Suicide." Friedrich looked at the dumbfounded professor and began, "He killed 2 officers and used the liberated weapons to attack a school - thinking he was saving children; seeing these things with empty eyes everywhere he went, he tried to save the kids from what you and those grey beings did to us!"
The professor felt the magnitude of what his creation did, collapsing on his chair, he produced a large Vodka bottle from the table drawer and defeated it in one swig; in a drunken stupor, he heard "Einzelganger, upon running out of ammo, broke his own neck."
The alcohol worked its magic and Blecher was calmer, he looked at the screen and calmly, asked as if the previous news didn't phase him, "What do you want, now that you found me." Not getting a reply, he wiped his eyes to see that the mechanical soldier was gone. "FRIEDRICH!" Blecher called, fear returning full-force. Not getting any response, he suddenly sobered up and his mind painted a horrific picture of what Friedrich may do; a good motivation to spring up and almost fly to his bedside table that housed a discrete gun safe.
Professor Blecher produced a Walther P38 handgun, knowing full-well that his creation had the advantage of combat training and possibly heavy armament, it was the only defense he had. Loading a full magazine, Blecher dialed the police, "There is a heavily-armed psychopath after me!"
"We will send a unit ASAP, give me your address sir!" the dispatcher replied.
"48 St Clair Ave W Toronto ON M4V 2Z2" Blecher replied, gripping his gun tightly as he scanned the room windows.
"Sir, please stay on the line......" the dispatcher replied, Blecher had good ears, he heard something else in the background, Friedrich was coming!
"All available units, we have a heavily-armed 5150, (mental case) dressed in black, wearing a steel helmet; proceed with caution!"
Blecher held the phone to his ear, listening for the relieving, "Suspect DOA!" message but, it was not happening and instead, he heard a loud bang on the steel gate outside his house. Dropping, the phone and cocking his gun, he approached the window carefully; knowing that Friedrich is in his yard, seconds away from kicking down his door.
Back to corner, Blecher gripped his gun and lay down in the darkness; taking aim at his front door hoping to get a headshot on a much superior foe. Hands began to shake and nerves were tighter than a power-metal guitarist's string, he suddenly heard the wails of many police sirens; a chorus of cruisers seemed to have pulled up. The professor thanked his lucky stars but, he still knew that it wasn't the end. While he collected his thoughts, officers seemed to have stopped the mechanical monstrosity.
"Police, drop your weapon!"
"Hands above your head and get down. DO IT NOW!"
"5150 is heavily armed, request SWAT assistance, how copy?!"
"10-4, SWAT is on the way!"
"So Friedrich may have missed some precincts, help has finally arrived," Blecher thought to himself, "If I survive, I should ask the US Army about my security and secrecy!" As he finished the thought, a loud ripping sound ran through the night air as if someone was ripping paper under his ears; agonising screams of pain followed suit. It was an MG42, the rapid-fire nightmare that the Allies tried so hard to downplay; "Its bark is worse than its bite." Oh, how wrong they were.
The return fire from the more advanced, modern small arms sounded like toy guns by comparison; flushed out in a matter of seconds till nothing but screams of pain remained - even those were few. The old gun took no prisoners. Not phased by modern conventions or ethics; its purpose was to destroy. The Sig Sauer P228s and H&K MP5s merely made holes in their target while the MG42, the buzzsaw of the Reich, literally cut the modern lawmen into pieces - their body armor might as well have been made from papier mache.
Friedrich fought as if he was competing with his weapon for the highest kill count, trained to fight till total collapse and kill without remorse, the Waffen SS was very much alive on modern streets. Highly-trained patrolmen and SWAT officers were crushed like a 12 y.o Karate kid trying to fight a Samurai warrior. When the ammo ran out, he resorted to snapping necks, breaking bones, ripping adult men apart and destroying spines - throwing attackers against the pavement.
"Dispatch, where is our backup?!"
"Officers are on their way, ETA driving time!"
"I am all that's left, other officers are torn apart - my partner's insides are all over the driveway!"
Professor Blecher, steeling himself, looked out the window and saw the biomechanical Waffen SS remnant holding up the last police officer by the collar as if he was a misbehaving kitten.
The cop struggled and grew weaker with every feeble attempt to break free as Friedrich looked around the street. Suddenly, his blood red eyes stopped at Blecher's window - he was looking RIGHT into the professor's eyes. All the anger from unfinished revenge, the horrors he committed, the death he saw; all that combined with intense SS teachings to keep fighting caused Blecher to emit a scared, silent scream.
Moments later and the regenerated Eastern Front soldier and his creator stood toe to toe. The professor was trying in vain to hold back the steel grip on his throat while his last line of defense lay on the floor; totally useless. The P38 was empty to no effect - even outgunned, Friedrich came out victorious. "I cannot be destroyed, " the soldier began, "but I can destroy you, a corrupt mind who sold his soul and his people in the name of something we can live without!"
The next day, Blecher's body was found hanging from the ceiling of his home. Officially, this was written as, "Criminal Connections gone wrong - didn't pay his debts." While the dead police officers responded to a call-up to a hostage situation with extremists that went sideways and hence, led to their deaths when both sides exchanged gunfire.
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© 2018 Jake Clawson