Deutchland, Wach!

[Prince Jason]

Do I even have to say anything, skilord?

[SKILORD]

Well, I'm back, apparently.

I'll be writing another bit of this soon.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Cool

[SKILORD]

Yeah, I'm trying to get around to it, i'm having a very long and busy week, and I'll be out of town again next week, so I'd better get to it, inspiration or no.

[SKILORD]

Chapter 12: Instigating Revolution

Oi! Still not 'A' work. (Real crappy dialouge at the end)
-

The anchorman stared, shocked at the boy who held out a new script, new lines for him to deliver. This had damn well better be important, he thought as he took the papers with a sneer.

He donned his most concerned features as he looked into the camera, glancing down at the paper.

“Breaking news here, it appears that this news station has received a tape from a certain individual claiming to represent a splinter of the German nationalist movement, the ‘Volk,’ who claims to have procured ‘Das ReichsSchwert,’ a German national emblem and claims to be preparing a revolution against, and I quote, ‘The British Slavedrivers of Berlin and her German Empire.’ The ReichsSchwert spokesman claims responsibility for the murder of Governor James Moore and Mayor Tim Thumbly.”

The anchorman stared up, an eyebrow lifted at the cameraman, “Honestly, my fellow Britons, I cannot say with any certainty that we should take this fellow seriously.”

The tape began to roll in the background.

-

There was a crowd around the excavation site now, forcing their way up to the opening, where suit wearing security guards would inform them that their presence was not required. These were men of all backgrounds, the curious, the German, the British, the uncertain, the angry, the hopeful, the conquered. These were the men who stood in front of the excavation site. It was not a protest, not a demonstration, just a curious on looking. It was a powder keg that wasn’t even aware that it was.

A kid with a black tee shirt, with the symbol of the German eagle forced his way up to the front of the crowd.

“Hey limey, why won’t ye let us in?”

The man in the suit ignored him, the kid’s curly hair began to bob as his pale features shook, “just like I thought, yer too afraid to let us open our eyes, too afraid to let us be free.”

The suit ignored him.

“Answer me.”

Silence.

“Answer me.”

The kid picked up a rock, threw it at the guards.

It struck one of them in the side of the head, he threw down his rifle and hurried after the kid.

Unnoticed another kid motioned for a few of the more anxious onlookers to take advantage of the confusion that was beginning to erupt among the guards and they slipped inside.

-

“F***ing kids,” the guard sneered as he returned from his search, “When I was that age...”

“You were just as bad, Thomas, and we both know that.”

Thomas shook his head, “When’s this s*** gonna be over?”

“It’ll blow over pretty soon, don’t worry.”

The kid began to glance from the second row of onlookers, these were different people, the crowd had been moving, rotating.

“Hey kid!”

The guard surged into the crowd, throwing people aside, grabbing the kid.

Thomas began to drag the punk successfully out of the crowd.

“Help, he’s after me because of the shirt, he’s oppressing me!”

A few people in the crowd began to notice, “Hey, put that kid down, what’s he done to you?”

Thomas shot a deadly look at the speaker, “It’s my own damn business, its between me and the kid.”

More stares were drawn towards him, Thomas’ death grip on the kid didn’t loosen.

“Put that kid down,” the first speaker stepped forward.

“No.”

“I’m gonna say this one last time, put him down,” it was a rather big man, confident enough apparently.

Thomas pulled the kid out of the crowd, to the safety behind the police line.

The big guy threw the first punch.

-

“Hey, what are you doing in here?”

The flash from the cameras was still illuminating the cave walls.

The guard approached even more quickly, “What are you doing here?”

The small group scattered, almost confused, leaving the guard without clue as to where to go.

His earpiece buzzed to life.

-

The guards were firing warning shots into the air, their handguns depleting their ammunition pointlessly, the crowd still surged forwards, kept only nearly at bay by the warning of bullets, they both knew that the bullets wouldn’t last forever, though, and the guards were starting to panic. There were only three of them, under an assault by rocks and sticks, their guns pointed harmlessly upwards.

The inside guards bounded out the door, he stared, shocked into the writhing mob, he held out his handgun, a few shots would end this.

He caught a man in the leg, dropping him, and the crowd was silent for a moment.

Then it thundered at him.

-

“In news today, a large gathering outside an excavation site described in the video of terror group, ‘ReichsSchwert,’ grew bloody as guards fired upon a mob which had become inconsolable. German barbarity, unseen since their conquest at the hands of our armies all those years ago, was unleashed in an unparalleled display that leaves four guards in critical care.

“Two members of the mob join them, interviews with their family members later on.

“Verification of the ‘ReichsSchwert’ video was also found in the cave, after a small group managed to break into the former excavation site and to take photographs of the apparent German writing therein. Yes, folks, look twice at your family lines because it turns out that Berlin did used to be a German town, perhaps even the Capitail.”

“More on that after a few words from our sponsors.”

The anchor sipped from his glass, motioning frantically for the makeup crews.

“What is this nonsense? Violence between Germans and Britons? This hasn’t happened for hundreds of years, this is absurd.”

“That doesn’t stop it from happening, sir.” The makeup fellow was powdering his cheeks.

“No, I suppose not. I’ll need a few stiff drinks tonight.”

“If this keeps getting worse, sir, we all will.”

“Worse? How can this get any worse? Two public officials murdered and a riot, you talk about ‘worse?’”

The hairdresser grinned, “I’m sorry sir, I’m afraid that Germany Lives.”

[Micha]

I like it!

Could you make it "Das ReichsSchwert" instead?

[SKILORD]

No problem.

Fixeded.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Its pretty good too Id say also.

This story is developing nicely SKILORD, I said all along it would be a long one and I think your pacing it well

[SKILORD]

I'm having a little internet trouble, and I have an exceptionally busy week coming up, but trust me, I'm trying my hardest to deliver.

[EQandCivfanatic]

looking good, waiting for more

[Paddy]

Originally posted by EQandCivfanatic
looking good, waiting for more

indeed

[vovan]

Originally posted by Paddy the Scot

looking good, waiting for more

indeed

Most definitely.

[SKILORD]

Chapter 13: Ergreifen der Thron

Short and not the best, I'm going through a slump right now and forcing this out, but it will keep you happy/intrested.

-

The anchorman shot a concerned glance from the television, Damien flicked it off.

“It’s spreading to Leipzig, there was a riot on Bakers street,” a man in an old German army uniform looked to him.

“The British sent tanks into Berlin, the city is under complete lockdown,” Damien shot back.

The man in the uniform chuckled, “The British don’t know how to put down riots, tanks won’t last too long.”

“People are going to die.”

The man in the uniform shrugged, “These things happen, I think we should come out in support of this Johan fellow. He’s delusional, but maybe he can pull it off.”

Damien shook his head, “He’s arrogant, he’s just gonna get a lot of people killed.”

Another man leaned in, “I think that Damien’s right, we’ll have to put this down ourselves.”

“Thank you, Hans,” Damien slumped back into his chair.

“How do you intend to put it down?” The man in the uniform propped himself forward.

“We’ve hired an assassin,” Hans waved his hand, “we’re going to cut off the head of this snake.”

“What makes you think that this can be stopped that way?”

“We don’t have any other choices.”

“Yes, we do, let’s come out in support of the rebellion.”

“Who’s this assassin?”

Hans grinned, “Timothy Rommel.”

-

Johan stood in the throng, faceless, invisible. He pelted stones at city hall with the rest of the hornet’s nest of Germans and dissident Britons, Tanks prowled the streets looking for them, weary and suspicious after many a Moltov Cocktail.

Berlin had become a battlefield, the rebellion hid in houses, in cellars, waiting to ambush the British forces in the city. There was no peace to be found, women and Children trying to escape had been forced back in, to localize the rebellion.

Small arms fire popped insistently in the alleys as Germans fought from the dark. War was dirty, blood was cheap.

The excavation site had been seized by a small group of Germans who had inhabited the VolkGeffanis, but who had been broken out by who they called the ‘Kaiser,’ and the throne sat empty, waiting for the faceless man who threw the stones to become a king.

-

“Herr,” Rommel grinned, approaching Johan von Bismarck, “I’m still waiting for the next set of executions and the payments.”

Johan was huddled in a cellar, where the flasks and kegs had been opened and the rebels fortified their courage before returning to the fight.

“You haven’t finished the last ones yet, have you?” Johan grinned, “Rhodes lives, he’s at the British command post wielding this army against us.”

Rommel gritted his teeth, “I’ll get him,” he growled, “I always get my man.”

“You had better pray that you do.”

Rommel cracked a grin, “You had better pray that I don’t.”

Rommel turned to the door, flipping it open and climbing up the stairs.

Johan shook his head, pondering Rommel’s last words, slipping the last bit of his drink down his throat and picking up his handgun.

He knew where he had to go, the rebellion was beginning to fade, to loose hope.

-

Johan von Bismarck approached the stone throne, sword in hand, he lifted his foot and stepped up on it, lifting himself up where the dirty and frightened crowd could see him, “From this throne, we will free our Fatherland, we, one people united in purpose and in strength. I offer this cave to all of you who have wives and daughters, sons and mothers, as a refuge, as a Haven from the fighting. This is not a cave for the King or for nobles, this is not a palace for the few. This is the hall of freedom, where all men are equal. This is the heart of the Fatherland, where all of Deutschland’s children may find refuge.”

The crowd cheered wildly, waving their hats and guns in the air, Johan grinned and stepped down off of his throne, lifting the sword high, he began to wade into the crowd, before it split before him, chanting his name and following him to the battlefield.

The former members of the Honor Guard, the last survivors of the biggest breakout in British penal history, picked up rifles and obeyed the orders of the man who had freed them, standing at the doors and frightening away the war, that the children may sleep.

[SKILORD]

Chapter 14: For Love of Country

The tank’s engine growled , frustrated, as it stood in the street, rolling aimlessly back and forth.

“Sir, still nothing here.”

The man on the other radio was rubbing his five o’clock shadow, there were Germans somewhere there, he knew it.

“General, call your men back, you’re more likely to stumble on an ambush than to do anything useful.”

The general looked up from the radio at Agent Rhodes, he bared his teeth briefly. He was not a diplomat, he had no polite words on his tongue to dispense to Mr. Rhodes. Though he allegedly had a rank in MI6 he hadn’t felt it necessary to share that with the General or anyone else in the occupation force, he had simply taken control quietly and confidently, tearing it away from more competent hands, in the General’s opinion.

“When are you going to be sending those forces to Leipzig, Agent Rhodes?”

Rhodes frowned, walking jerkily across the tile floor, “I won’t be sending any forces to Leipzig, General. I’ve told you that already.”

“There are more rebels in Leipzig, Rhodes,” the general spat out the name, “the forces are needed there.”

Edward slammed his fist down on the desk, causing the radio to jump, “We can’t end this in Berlin with all the men we have, how can they help in Leipzig?!”

The general was quiet for a moment, a subtle grin lifting the corners of his mouth in a sinister expression, “Leipzig is a far more valuable city than this one.”

Edward glared at the General, tugging his jacket into place, regaining control of himself, “When we have subdued Berlin, then I will hear this talk.”

-

Timothy shrugged in his uncomfortable uniform, the assorted and colorful decorations on his breast meant nothing to him anymore, he tried hard to think of the officer who had once worn them, the young and enthusiastic soldier in his queen’s service. A man who had followed her from the Finnish Isles in the short police action to end the Norse-Swedish civil war to the Deserts of Germany, where he had died.

All the hope and promise that had once clouded those eyes had parted when he saw the Geffanis, when it became more than a whispered legend. When he realized that Germany and England had never made peace, when he had dragged his tank away with the few other disillusioned souls that had been ashamed and frightened of what they saw, even the little they saw, a dark monolith reaching high into the sky, the screams of a tortured German pouring out, when these terrors had stabbed his soul mercilessly, this was when Timothy Rommel, the man who had worn this uniform, had died.

The uniform stank of death to Rommel now as he walked confidently, exchanging no eyes with the others in the hall. The gun was in its holster, nothing was out of place.

The radio room, he shot his eyes in briefly. It seemed less populated than the other rooms, there weren’t any major missions on right now. He could start his work there unimpeded.

Timothy placed his hand on the door handle.

-

“But this rebellion is in more cities than just Berlin, Rhodes, we must fight it on every front.”

“Berlin is more important, trust me, now call your men back.”

The door clicked open, drawing Edward Rhode’s suspicious eyes to it.

-

Recognition flashed suddenly on Rommel’s face, and his hand shot out for his pistol, twirring it out, Rhodes had already squeezed off a pair of shots, forming a pair of holes in the door.

Rommel lunged to the floor, forcing his finger down on the trigger.

There was a gasp on the other side of the room. Timothy dropped himself suddenly towards the tile, bullets piercing the air above him.

He stole a glance upwards as he rolled towards cover, Rhodes still stood tall, he must have hit the other man.

Rhodes was pounding bullets into the floor, leaving scorching holes.

Rommel stopped rolling and propped himself up on one knee, the gun was in front of him, the shot was perfect.

The door swung open again, “Freeze,” an authoritive voice commanded, Rommel grinned.

“Or what?”

“I have a gun aimed at your back, don’t test me.”

Rommel chuckled softly, “And I have enough explosives wired to me to make anything you were planning to do with that gun a mistake. What sort of fool would walk into the enemies camp so brazenly without a backup plan? You shoot me and I promise you that the I won’t die alone.”

The gun clicked behind him, “I don’t believe you,” the authoritive voice was gone, replaced by a more timid voice, one accustomed to taking orders, a grin cracked across Rommel’s face.

“So what? I’m just warning you that if you shoot me, you limeys aren’t going to stay in Berlin for very long. Your actions here have consequences, big consequences. For the world, you have the history of the world sitting in front of you here. What will you choose, to take a chance and risk betraying your nation? A man can betray his nation, trust me, I know.”

Edward Rhodes stood silently at the front of the room, “ He might not be willing to take that chance, Mein Herr, but I am perfectly unafraid.”

The bullet lanced out, landing with a meaty thwack in the flesh of Edward Rhodes, dragging him to the floor.

“I’m going to leave now, Let’s not have a mess, I won’t blow up if you don’t shoot me.”

-

Edward Rhodes’ eyes burned as the bullet ached in his side, he watched the man who had shot him stand up and turn around, his gun was out of reach, he didn’t know how it had fallen so far away.

The darkness closed in on him as he stared into the doorway, watching Timothy Rommel disappear into the base.

He bit his teeth together, determined, Rommel would pay ever so dearly.

Edward Rhodes inhaled. Edward Rhodes breathed. Edward Rhodes lived.

-

The handgun was pressed against the back of his skull, Johan grinned to this.

“Now we can see where your loyalties lie, Timothy, with your nation or with the pound.”

“I have no loyalty to you Johan, don’t confuse yourself.”

“To me? I ask for none from you, why should a man be loyal to another man? I am not looking for a dog, Timothy, I am looking for a German. Your finger is on the trigger now and its your decision, will you kill the leader of the revolution now, will you slit the throat of Germany as it is born, all for a precious thirty silver?”

“They paid me in pounds.”

Johan grinned, “It’s a figure of speech, Judas took thirty silver.”

“The Volk are Germans too.”

“Germans?! They betray Germany every day with their cowering. We are weak, we cannot fight. These are their psalms, these are their songs of comfort, We are weak, we cannot fight. I too am weak, we too are weak, but we are Germans, and we cannot be insulted forever. We are not strong enough to win this fight, but we are strong enough to die free. That’s all I ask, that’s all that the men out there who are roaming the streets, we want to die German, we want to die free, with our faces to the enemy and our guns in our hands.

“Germany has for too long been the victim of the petty fears of miniscule men, I’m asking you to free her and to take your finger off of that trigger.”

The hammer cocked back.

Johan grinned, facing death’s hollow eyes, free, “But a man can always betray his nation.”

-

The hatch flipped open and the tanker peered out into a parking garage above Berlin’s broken streets.

“Sir, no sign of activity, should we return to base?”

The static was still there as it had been for the past hours, noone was manning the radio, but the tanker would be damned before returning without the General’s orders. He had told them to stay out and they still had plenty of fuel, since much of their time had been spent with the engine off, hiding in the shade of parking towers like the one they had presently mounted. They had sent to infantry into a neighboring building to investigate it for Germans.

“Sir,” he trailed off, loosing faith in the radio.

A bullet shot out of nowhere, the tanker slumped in through the hatch.

A gruff hand grabbed the body and tossed it out, pointing a handgun down into the tank.

“I’ll be taking this,” Timothy Rommel informed them.

[vovan]

I must have missed that one chapter you posted right after my previous reply.

Well, what can I say... Great installments. Always good to see stuff from you, SKI.