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Urotsukidoji - Overfiend ‘44: The Hell Portal.	By : Nickamano Category: +S to Z > Urotsuki-doji Views: 1508 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Neither Urotsukidoji or any related materials are owned by me. This was created for entertainment purposes only, and I am not profiting financially from the creation of this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Chapter 12.
Furman made it across the vestibule to the main entrance and kept a look out for German soldiers as he quick-marched back to the truck, where he collected the ununiformed Japanese kids, Shaw, Bodie and Piszczek and the uniformed but overtly feminine Kasia and Zofia from the shadows and then led them back the same way, once he was happy the coast was clear.
Their luck held out until they reached the entrance doors. Furman lead the way, stepping in with the girls at his heels, while the ununiformed Brits, Piszczek and the two kids brought up the rear. He stopped short when he saw an officer and three rifle-armed privates emerge from a door in the mouth of the north-easterly corridor.
Kasia was quick witted and cast a whispered warning to Piszczek that everyone else should remain outside. And then she started giggling and stumbling forward as though tipsy. It wasn’t the first time the girls had been forced to playact this particular role and Zofia picked it up smoothly enough. Furman also proved himself on the same page.
“What’s going on here?” The officer said, changing course and crossing the vestibule to question Furman.
Zofia, with a giggle of her own stomped herself into a flashy over the top attention-salute combination, trying to keep a burst of laughter under control. While standing beside her Kasia had a hand over her sniggering mouth and a flush to her amused cheeks.
The officer finally averted his eyes from the pretty though unprofessionally attired girls, and looked Furman up and down, and then paled slightly when he recognised the rank insignia on Furman’s uniform put him above his own captaincy and he stomped out his own attention and salute.
“Hail Hitler! My apologies Major.”
“Stand at ease Hauptmann. You’re just doing your job.” Furman replied, playing his part with an ostentatious smile and a hint of indulgence for a lower ranked officer.
“If I might ask Major, why are these two women in SS uniform?”
“These two? To entertain the brass! Can you believe it? They desired them in uniform so they could strip out of them, to music I would assume. Personally, I don’t know what the world is coming to. Don’t they know we’re at war?”
“Yes Major… Erm, Major…”
The man, glanced at his men, blushing, looked at the girl’s blushing and then turned back to Furman. He looked like he had been drinking a little himself.
“Yes, Hauptmann?” Furman said, maintaining his pretence of good-natured patience.
“Well… Sir. It’s foolish to ask I know, but…”
His eyes darted to the women again.
“Well, Sir… I’ve…” He was almost stammering and his eyes were dilated. “…I’ve been away from my wife a long time, and … I mean… I realise it’s impertinent… But…”
Another pause.
“Would it be impertinent…?”
Furman felt his chest tighten. Had he taken the wrong tactic with this man. Maybe the angry power-mad type would have been better.
“Yes? What are you asking for man? Spit it out…” He said, slipping a hint in impatience into his tone.
“Would it be at all possible to have… a quick sample…? Of what they have on offer, sir? Just a look sir, for myself and the lads…”
Furman stared at the man for a moment, racking his brains for the best course of action. And knowing Kahn would be watching from behind the door. He felt the need to prove his own professionalism and reliability to the arrogant American officer suddenly and with a little giggle from Kasia that he took to be a signal of authorisation from her, he gave the Captain a curt nod and then spun on his heel and slid his abruptly imperious gaze onto his Polish comrades.
“You! Open your jacket for the Captain, at once.” He snapped.
“At once Major, sir.” Kasia replied, feigning momentary fear, though Furman believed he could see a reassurance in her big blue eyes.
“You too.” The SS Captain snapped at Zofia, who jumped as she was addressed.
The younger officer who was apparently determined to make the most of the opportunity, used his own authority, as though Furman’s acquiescence had some given him additional authority.
Kasia played it up, performing the beginnings of a striptease, working a button of her jacket free, working the loosened front flap of her uniform top to reveal a little flesh before working the next button free. She only had three to play with but she didn’t want to spend any more time here taking her clothes off for these bastards than she needed to. However, it would do no good making a lot of noise killing these four men, however much she wanted to.
The men’s smiles widened as the buttons popped one by one until she slipped the jacket from her shoulders, revealing a simple black brassiere that was stuffed to bursting with her prominent and hefty bosom.
Feigning a moment of coyness as the men ogled her half-encased breasts, Kasia glanced backward at Zofia, to see she was essentially at the same point in her own striptease. Her white brassiere was a prettier little thing with a hint of lace edging and her smaller breasts were still naturally buoyant whereas her own were heavier and more pendulous.
“Let’s see the tits, girls!”
It was actually one of the privates who made the demand, but it was taken up and repeated by the Captain and the other two rifle carrying soldiers.
So, biting back the urge to protest or look to Furman to step in, Kasia just slipped the brassiere’s straps off her creamy, slender shoulders and lowered the underwired cups until her naked bosom was unleashed.
She was rewarded with groans of appreciation from her fans. And then a half subdued ‘whoop’ or two aimed to the side of her as, again, young Zofia followed suit, flashing her own breasts to the men.
“Now then men, we’d best not keep the brass waiting any longer.” Furman said, feeling a little green around the gills at how far this had gone all of a sudden. “And I’m sure you and your men have your duties, Hauptmann.”
“Yes Major, at once sir. You have my gratitude.”
Barely capable of dragging his eyes from the exposed chests of the two lovely women as they started to scoop their naked breasts back into the cups of their underwear, the Captain followed his flush-cheeked gush to his superior officer with another attention-salute combination. And then, with a last longing glance at the women, he turned snappily on his heel and marched off toward the right-hand staircase, leading his three wide-eyed privates after him.
They had to wait until the four soldiers were out of sight before collecting Piszczek, the Brits and the Japanese kids from outside and hurry across the vestibule into their secured staging room.
Ever the gentleman, Furman hurried to make his apologies to Kasia and Zofia but they wouldn’t hear of it.
“You performed your own duty well Dominik, and we’ve had to do much worse than that before now.” Kasia reassured him.
“Killing a few of these monsters will assuage any dirtiness I’m feeling at the moment.” Zofia nodded to Furman.
She flashed her countryman a hungry grin while she wrapped an arm around Teufel, responding with a delighted purr as his kissed the side of her throat playfully.
“Right.” Kahn said, then turned to Shaw and Bodie. “No more time to waste. What do you boys need to see, to complete your assessment?”
Bodie was looking down at his feet, appearing to be somewhere between annoyed and ill, but Shaw gave a little shrug.
“We’ve made the educated guess that the theatre is a likely venue for scientific apparatus and the like. A small strike team - myself, Bodie and a couple of others, will make our way there, have a good look around and make our assessment. Then we’ll make our way to the attic and use their radio room to radio our findings and recommendations.”
“We’re coming, too.” Teufel said, nodding at his sister who was, once again, perched rather seductively on the edge of the table one long leg across the other.
“We need to locate our artefact.” She added.
“We’ll be grateful for the company.” Shaw said with a smile at Teufel.
“Take a couple of my men for back up.” Kahn put in. “Carson and…” But he was interrupted.
“Not Carson, he’s wounded. He could slow us down.” Segen commented.
“Hey! I could… It’s barely a scratch! I can fight as well as any of you, any day of the week!”
“How about Brooks and Salvatore?” Segen suggested.
“I’m keeping the Negros here, out of sight. You two could maybe double as prisoners with four uniformed SS, but a negro in SS uniform won’t cut it.”
“Brooks and Clay are the only others not wounded. Foster has at least got a broken rib.”
“I can fight…” The Private attempted to argue.
“We have to move quick and quiet.” Teufel said.
“I’ll join you myself, me and Salvatore.” Kahn said firmly.
Teufel just shrugged in response. Segen pushed off from the table top and slid down to her feet, light as air and uncommonly silent, while Shaw got up off the couch with a slight grunt then straightened his ill-fitting uniform.
“Then its decided.” He said with an apparently confident smile, before glancing back at Bodie. “Come along Lieutenant.”
The other English officer got up off the couch, righted his uniform belt and glanced over at Zofia for a moment, who was busy giving Teufel a hot and hungry good-luck kiss, before he looked away with a scowl and grabbed his Sturmgewehr. Finally nodding to his commander.
“Sergeant.” Kahn looked back at Carson. “You’re in charge, ‘till I get back.”
“Yessir.”
And then the American Lieutenant followed the other members of the reconnaissance team out through the just-unlocked door to the left of the fireplace which, according to Segen’s supplied blueprints, led to a small rear staircase once they had crossed an equally small ‘L’ shaped corridor with four doors more or less at the compass-points.
After listening at the door, hearing men passing along the corridor beyond and waiting until the noise of their footfalls had dissipated, they stepped out into the corridor. They followed Segen as she led them across to another door that was more or less opposite and then slipped quietly through that door and found themselves facing the rear staircase.
The staircase was old dark stone, lit by a string of low-power bare bulbs. It was possibly meant for the Schloss’ servants use exclusively, and lead both up and down. Each member of the team glanced down - either with eyes, or eyes and gun barrel, and seeing nothing dangerous beneath them they started their ascent.
Segen lead the way, using her nose to focus their direction. She could smell both the Makai and the artefact. And though the latter’s scent was a drier, more subtle aroma - a little like mouldy stone - it was not submerged into oblivion by the sickly sweet, thickly overpowering and purely sexual scent of the demon Realm and its countless denizens. The Jyujin girl could discern between them and though the demon scent was certainly distracting and started to get her a little wet, she could easily avoid its influence and focus her attention on the artefact’s aroma.
Bodie followed her and Shaw him while Kahn, Salvatore and finally her brother brought up the rear. It was deliberate. Neither Jyujin trusted Bodie or Kahn particularly, a change in their individual scents might give away an intent to betray either of the siblings and so they made it more difficult for them.
Kahn’s motivation was obvious, even partially understandable. Segen had obviously killed half of his men. Though Bodie reeked of jealousy and what Humans described as a broken heart, though he seemed to be constantly struggling to control his murderous desires and often those desires seemed to be unfocussed. Sometimes he wanted to kill Zofia, other times Teufel and other times no one at all. So, they needed to be observed closely. Segen just thought killing the both of them would be the easiest solution, though she quite liked Kahn, under his arrogance and cockiness. And she respected Shaw and knew he would be hurt if they killed Bodie, who he had worked alongside for a number of years.
They reached the doorway to the upper storey and after listening at the door, stepped through it into a red carpeted corridor of creamy stone with paintings and widely spaced electric lighting and more of the Schloss’ heavy wooden doors. It was still a strange transition to move around Europe for the Jyujin siblings. Having spent so much of the last three hundred years keeping to the islands of Japan searching for and waiting for the birth of the Chojin, the timing of which was always so vaguely alluded to in the prophetic carvings, they were used to the wooden buildings of Japan, the designs and layouts of their castles and upper class Samurai estates, which they assumed would be the equivalent to these European palaces, mansions, villas, chateaux and Schloss’.
Segen’s Jyujin nose could smell humans all around her and plenty of them. There could be as many as a hundred humans in this building, or more, though they were spread out across the central section and both east and west annexes and all three storeys, plus a couple of deeper subterranean chambers that she had come to realise were not part of the blueprints. Still, she could only catch the scents of two humans along this corridor and by the sound of their slow, deep breaths they were both sound asleep.
She led the team along the corridor which turned ninety degrees to the right and continued onward. The corridor ended at an arched window with crisscrossed leading. However halfway down the corridor was a large double door set.
Segen sniffed and listened at the door then slipped back, making some distance then waved the rest of the team over.
“It’s through there, but there are two guards on the other side of that door. I’d suggest you guys in uniform go straight through, just like you’re meant to be there, and then me and bro will follow you through and take the guards out quietly while they’re distracted by you guys.”
“Sounds fine, Segen. We’ll rely on you two then.” Shaw said.
The British Warrant Officer deliberately spoke over Kahn, who was apparently about to protest. After a pause the American Lieutenant shrugged his shoulders, nodded and then with a jerk of his chin indicated for everyone to line up.
“This can go wrong in a second so stay alert.” Kahn whispered to Salvatore, though deliberately loud enough for everyone to hear.
Segen and Teufel put their backs to the wall on either side of the doors, which opened inwards while the other four in uniform stacked up at the door. And then with a nod, Shaw levered the brass door handle and strolled in, Bodie beside him with Kahn and Salvatore right behind.
The two guards turned to look at who had entered and by the time their peripheral vision had caught the swift movement of the two Japanese kids, the flat of Segen’s open right hand had slammed like an axe into the side of one guard’s neck, resulting in a loud, dry crack and the man’s ear slamming violently against his shoulder. While opposite, one of Teufel’s wrists drove equally hard into the other guard’s solar plexus. The other guard let out a wheezing, breathy death-rattle and crumpled, his body folding over Teufel’s arm. The young Japanese lad took the dead guard’s weight and lowered him to the ground, matching Segen’s actions a couple of metres away.
“Back in the corridor there’s another door.” Segen suggested, nodding her head in the direction they had just come from. “It smelled like a bathroom to me. We should hide the bodies in there. Maybe jam the door somehow?”
“If you four take care of that, Bodie and myself will have a quiet look around.” Shaw said.
“I promise, we won’t go too far until you return.” He added with a hint of exasperation, catching sight of Kahn’s dubious look.

The Brits were true to their word. The doors that had been under guard led to a narrow circular corridor with balcony like openings in the ornate marble and stone work, though the openings were protected by high balustrades of carved scrollwork pillars with a flat stone mantel atop like a safety rail. Though these flat shelves were all of four feet high and no one wanted to test their solidity by climbing onto them and looking down. All they could really see was that they were up near the domed ceiling of a huge circular chamber with what resembled ornate theatre-like boxes around the circumference, looking inward.
Shaw had a small notebook and pencil ready to note down observations. However, from this initial vantage point with their height and perspective there wasn’t really anything of note to observe. Other than huge, arched stained-glass panels set into the domed roof. The central circular panel now featuring a crimson glass swastika as a centrepiece. Which obviously must have been a recent addition.
It was obvious that they would have to get closer.
At the end of the circular corridor was a flight of steps that took them downwards to a landing and then back on itself, continuing down to the next level. They took a door onto another matching circular corridor though this one had doors to what they assumed were the theatre boxes. Segen quietly pushed one of the doors open at random and glanced inside. It was deserted of course, and dark. But they could see the upper most portion of some kind of giant, glittering mechanism, a vast construction of glass and metal. And they were low enough now that they could better see and understand their environment.
As Teufel secured their place in the small booth, Shaw and the others crept closer to the front of the box and looked around the darkened circular space. The place was dark. The only illumination which was a dim and cold blue light, came from beneath their position and revealed little but carved stone and deep shadowy recesses, like the eye sockets of human skulls, lined and stacked beside and on top of each other. The faint blue light from below combined with the distant flashes of lightning and the occasional sweep of an antiaircraft spotlight, somewhere in the Capital city, all cast through the stained glass colouring high above them. And it threw freakish, hellish colours and dancing shadows all over the place.
It took a while for everyone’s eyes to adjust to the new environment. However, when they did they felt even more discomforted by what they beheld.
It was indeed a circular theatre. Possibly originally inspired by Shakespeare’s’ famous Globe Theatre. The three official storeys of the Schloss were replicated by the three levels of arched stone theatre boxes that formed its circular walls. However, the stone floor of the theatre was submerged an extra storey. There was no stage evident, though there was an elevated narrow circular plinth with a steep staircase leading up to it from the ground floor. The platform, that stretched up to a point between the ground and first floors, featured its own stone balustrade. It might have originally been a conductor’s or orator’s position.
Though now it seemed to be some kind of control booth. Two thirds of the ten-foot diameter circular platform was filled with machinery and a brass and copper control station that was awash with a complicated jury-rigged mess of dials and readouts of power and pressure and intensity and the like. There were radio frequency regulators and similar instruments. There were levers, and what appeared to be cathode-ray tubes in clusters dotted about seemingly at random. There were knobs and adjustable wheels and copper piping, cables and wiring and flexi-cord, yards and yards of the stuff like countless tentacles. The whole thing seemed to be cobbled together without much planning. Or from a mind that was unfocussed and devoid of logical reasoning. Which, of course was highly improbable.
Strangest of all was a central panel that housed a number of circular dials and a couple of large television monitors interspersed with more clusters of cathode tubes. Though in the centre there was an unexplainable circular hollow, like a bowl, edged in rubber with fingers of copper like exposed wiring that seemed to form a kind of nest in the centre, a nest that appeared to be made to support an egg that, though it was hard to judge the scale, would probably be a little larger than a cricket ball. At least that was the best estimation that Shaw could assess.
However, the control booth was not the strangest looking device in the theatre. The whole of the circular floor space, where the stage might have been, was filled in by the strangest, most otherworldly mechanism or contraption any of them had ever set eyes on. And it was huge. The thing filled the dropped floor space of the theatre from side to side and was faintly cone shaped. Or perhaps more accurately like an open, upended umbrella.
The majority of the contraption seemed to be made from power conduits of some description, there were hugely thick metal pipes forming the limbs and ‘fabric’ of the umbrella, vaguely disc shaped. Inside some of these glittering metallic pipes where a panel or gap in a joint allowing the interior to be visible, there appeared to be vast clusters of insulated wiring of innumerable colours.
The power conduits, like umbrella’s limbs filled in the circular plate-base completely, stretching from the outer rim to collect in the centre and then jut abruptly skyward, like the umbrella’s shaft and handle. And from the uprising centre grew a cluster of enormous cylindrical glass vials, as though set up to capture and collect liquid or gas.
“What are those things coming from the centre?” Bodie whispered, for once upbeat and animated.
“I don’t know, they look like wheel-spokes.” Kahn commented under his breath.
“There are thirteen of them, with some kind of contraption attached to the end.” Shaw commented, noting the details as he saw them into his note book.
Segen and Teufel looked down as well. The device was in no way familiar to them either, and they had no idea of its function, though it gave them both a bad feeling.
“You see the thing in that control booth, Brother?” Segen whispered. “That semi-spherical indentation?”
“Yeah. It looks around the right size… But there’s no point going down there when it’s obviously not in the machine.”
“No, I guess not.”
“Hey, you two. Whatever you’re saying, keep it in English. So, we’re all on the same page!” Salvatore snapped, a little too loud.
Segen looked over and stuck her tongue out while Teufel scowled at him but didn’t offer a reply. Through Shaw did.
“Keep your damned voice down, Private!” The British officer hissed.
Salvatore pulled a face of his own but maintained his silence.
“Have we seen enough?” Kahn asked. “It’s obviously some kind of weapon…”
“Yes, but what kind? What does it do?” Shaw asked rhetorically, then glanced back at the Japanese Siblings.
“Any ideas you two? Do you recognise it? Know what it is?”
Teufel shook his head. Segen nodded hers at Kahn.
“I agree with him.” She said. “Whatever it does, it won’t be good. It needs destroying.”
<><><>
Carson was spending a lot of time spying through the key hole into the vestibule. And it was starting to concern Brooks. The Private had unpacked two cartridge belts and arranged them beside Clay’s MG42 where he could feed them into the gun quickly. They had practiced for fifteen minutes to double check that they knew the reload procedure and could operate it smoothly, and now Clay was oiling the mechanism, leaving Brooks with little to do.
The others were almost silent. Piszczek and Clonek were having a subdued conversation in one corner and the women were checking the feeding mechanisms of their assault rifle and submachine gun.
The others were all in their little solitude-islands, guarding the other doors, checking their weapons or resting, all essentially in silence.
“Clay, get over here.” Carson said suddenly, still kneeling by the main door.
“Sergeant.” Clay put the machine gun down and hurried over to his superior.
“There’s another Forty-Two out there. Propped up on a crate on the other side of the hall.”
“Sir?”
“Go out and get it.” Carson said. “Two guns are better than one. Brooks, you go with him.”
Brooks had been listening to the Sergeant, his heart in his mouth, but now under orders. He stepped to it, hurrying toward Clay. Though out of the corner of his eye he saw Piszczek and Clonek interrupt their conversation and hone in on what was going on and it stopped him in his tracks.
“Halt, Sergeant.” Piszczek snapped.
“What did you say to me?” Carson growled, turning his attention on the older Pole.
“In my own country I am of Podporucznik rank. That is Lieutenant in English, so I outrank you, Sergeant.”
“Last time I looked, the Polish army wasn’t part of the US and your army was destroyed by the Krauts. So, I’d say your rank is obsolete. Besides my Lieutenant, left me in charge and you all heard it… Clay, Brooks, get out there.”
“Men, please remain in here.” Piszczek said calmly. “We’re supposed to hold this room until the others return. Sending men out there endangers us all. Another machine gun is unnecessary.”
“Maybe that’s why the Krauts rolled right over you guys if you think more firepower is a bad thing.”
“I won’t allow you to jeopardise our mission.” Piszczek said, his voice growing darker.
“Fuck you, you fucking coward.” Carson snapped rising to his feet and taking a step toward his propped-up submachine gun.
“With regret then…” Piszczek muttered, then cast a quick meaningful look across at Clonek, Furman and Klich.
Three rifles whipped upwards to point at Carson’s face and heart while at the same time the Sergeant grabbed his rifle and pointed the muzzle at Piszczek.
Carson’s only back up, Brooks and Clay were unarmed, their weapons out of reach. Foster, meanwhile, on the other side of the room was clutching painfully at his ribs as he attempted to drag himself across the couch he was sitting on, trying to reach for his own rifle. However, Zofia slid down beside him and with a decidedly threatening smile, pulled him up back up right and away from his weapon.
Kasia, keeping well clear of the gun barrel stand-off, closed the distance between herself and Brooks, though she wasn’t carrying her Sturmgewehr.
“You know Brooks,” She whispered. “the easiest way we can deal with this is to just get that gun. I’m going out there. You’ll cover my back?”
“Sure, but let’s go before the killing begins.”
Kasia caught Zofia’s eye and winked at the younger woman.
Everyone else was focussed on each other, along with their guns, so the trio was able to slip out of another door without, at least initially, being noticed.
None of them had any weapons on them and fast-walking down the corridor, hoping it would lead them back to the vestibule, gave them all butterflies. It did lead them back to the vestibule and they spotted the MG42 on the stack of creates almost at once.
Unfortunately, as they hurried across the chessboard tiled floor, they didn’t notice the half dozen strong group of German soldiers just beginning to descend the stairs behind them.
“Ah, and what do we have here?” The leader said, catching their attention and all but making their collective heart’s stop.
<><><>
“Wait. Something’s happening…” Shaw said suddenly.
A naked girl was led out from one of the ground floor archways by four army personnel. She appeared to be doped up or something. She was subdued, weak and stumbling, her head down her long pale blonde hair had been in ringlets once but now the spiralling curls were lank and had lost most of their twist. Her slender youthful body was nude and strangely illuminated under the blue lights from the giant unearthly machine she was being led toward.
Shaw was momentarily reminded of haunting scenes from H.G. Wells’ Scientific Romances though especially The War of the Worlds and The Shape of Things to Come. It took three of the four soldiers, the third needlessly covering the catatonic young woman, perhaps fifteen years of age, with his rifle, to turn and lift her up to the contraption at the terminus of one of the thirteen ‘wheel-spokes’.
It was revealed to be a series of manacles, a complicated device designed, apparently, to hold the occupant perfectly still and almost spread eagled, legs shoulder width apart, arms way from their sides. Clamps like cylindrical crab-claws encircled the girl’s torso, from beneath her breasts to her waist, the manacle tight enough that her soft flesh bulged over the edges of the fitted cylindrical corset. The corset was fitted with metal support pipes that rose up from under her arms and attached to a metal choker gripping her around the throat.
More of these manacles encircled her upper arms with support piping reaching down to thick wrist cuffs. There were also knee manacles with piping reaching to metal bands around her upper thighs, with more piping connecting the sections together. Each of these strange manacles was individually connected to the terminus of the ‘wheel-spoke’ shaft by a metal limb that seemed to be supported by a system of pistons and coil-spring shock absorbers. The function of these, like the rest of the mechanism was impossible for the observers to judge.
It took the three men almost five minutes to lock the almost unconscious girl into the contraption. And only once she was securely in place, her head lowered and her blonde hair hanging limply over her face, did the Human scientist appear. Tall and slimly built, almost as though he had been drawn out on a rack at some point. He wore a typical long white coat and with his stringy grey-white hair, appearing blue, of course, under the weird light.
“Professor Munhihausen, I presume.” Shaw whispered to himself staring down, note-taking suddenly forgotten.
The German scientist was slowly, almost ceremoniously ascending the sheer stone staircase up to the raised circular platform with its jury-rigged control booth. And he was carrying something. Cupped almost reverently in both hands, the left of which appeared to be encased in a brass gauntlet, it filled his cupped palms. The thing was yellowish-grey with a stone-like texture though it was hard to be certain at their distance. It appeared faintly spherical, and was around the size of a cricket ball.
“I take it that’s your artefact?” Kahn whispered, glancing back at the two Japanese kids.
“Yep. That’s it.” Segen nodded absently, staring down at the human.
And then she saw someone else stepping out of the shadows of the archway opening from where the girl had been brought. He was taller than even Munhihausen, seven or maybe even eight feet, though unlike Munhihausen he was proportionally broad too, stocky shoulders and biceps that pressed against the fabric of the long trench coat he was wearing and his head was covered with a wide brimmed hat.
“O-Raijuki.” Segen whispered.
“What? What was that you said?” Salvatore hissed.
“Oh crap. I think I know that one. He’s a tough bastard.” Teufel snarled under his breath.
He pressed himself against the large pillar that formed the front corner of the theatre box, leaning forward as far as he could, staring down at the strange and intimidating newcomer.
<><><>
“A lowly Negro and two whores and all three dressed in army uniform…? Obviously spies, and excruciatingly bad ones. Ha…! Well, I’m not wasting any time with them. Privates Schultz, Emmerich and Dietrich, take that… Excuse for a human being and relieve him of his miserable existence at once. Against that wall should suffice.”
Carson, Piszczek and Clonek were watching from the double door which had been opened a crack, just enough to see and hear everything that was said. The Poles both had cold iron weights in the pits of their stomachs, while Carson was just seething with anger.
“These two we’ll… Interrogate… Upstairs. The rest of you bring them along, check them for weapons and them take them to the first-floor bedrooms in the eastern annex. March!”
Once he had observed his men pat down the three captives, the two women with a deliberately lascivious manner, the officer led three of his men back toward their stairs. The three soldiers shoved rifles into the backs and flexing buttocks of Zofia and Kasia who, like Brooks, had their hands on-top of their heads and pushed them to follow their officer up the stairs to the right.
Brooks was slammed in the guts with a rifle stock, who letting out a breathy wheeze slumped to the floor and then two of them grabbed him by the upper arms and dragged him back against the stone and marble wall to the far side of the main entrance. They returned to their comrade where the three of them lined up and lifted their rifles, worked the bolt action to chamber an 8mm cartridge and then levelled the muzzled aiming at Brooks’ pounding heart.
What they hadn’t noticed were Piszczek, Clonek and Klich slipping out from their staging area room while Furman and Carson covered them from the doorway with two Sturmgewehrs. By the time the Germans realised there were men behind them, one had a bayonet driven through the side of his throat, a second was having his larynx and trachea sawn through while the third, a hand covering his mouth, watched in helpless, mute horror as a ten-inch bayonet blade slipped up underneath his rib cage until it slid into the over-active muscle of his fear-accelerated heart. They were fortunate that none of the men fired their rifles on reflex.
“Brooks!” Clonek, hissed. “Go!”
As Brooks, still suffering the effects of the rifle butt to his diaphragm, fumbled his way back to the staging area room, stumbling a couple of times and grunting his discomfort a little too loudly, but he managed to get back to the room.
They shut the door and Piszczek watched through the key hole as his men dragged the three German corpses into another small door on the opposite side of the vestibule. They were a few minutes. And in preparation, Furman opened the door a little and waited for them to open theirs’. And, seeing no one in sight he signalled the other Poles to cross the vestibule. As he passed the stack of crates housing the MG42, Klich grabbed it and hauled the long machinegun back with him.
“We shoved the bodies behind a settee in that room and Clonek took out the electric bulbs. It might do for a little while.”
“Jesus-fucking-Christ, Brooks!” Carson snarled, barely keeping his voice down. “What they hell were you thinking?”
“Just trying to keep the peace, Sergeant.” Brooks wheezed.
Foster, wincing and clutching his ribs, passed the other private a glass of port from a side-table.
“Sip it slowly, Brooks.”
“Thanks, man.”
“So, now we will have to go out and get the women back…” Piszczek said, staring Carson down.
It was as though the Polish leader was willing the American Sergeant to argue. Carson just nodded.
“Foster, lock yourself in. Get on the forty-two and cover that front door, but keep an ear on the other doors too. This could go the Hell any fucking minute…” Carson said.
“Right Sarge.”
“It has already gone to hell.” Furman muttered, checking the magazine and running the action on his assault rifle.
“Brooks, you okay to come or do you need to stay and recover?” Carson asked.
“I need to come along, Sergeant.” Brooks grunted replacing the empty port glass for his Sturmgewehr.
Carson nodded, hefting his submachine gun. Then he turned to Piszczek.
“Okay Lieutenant, they’re your girls, lead on.”
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Urotsukidoji - Overfiend ‘44: The Hell Portal.