“Madam. Our units are on standby, waiting for your affirmation.”

Madam Mak Molotok sat before a screen of epic proportions, flanked by other monitors where those monitors were conjoined with even smaller ones. The largest and most prominent cycled through graphics on a loop. A map of the Achse, a map of the European allies and a map of the United States. Each one was marked with bright red signage and russian script. Half translucent dotted lines curled from points on each map towards her home; The Soviet Union. Her eyes gathered the information, glancing to the secondary and tertiary screens that broadcast radio messages at a low volume.

She listened in closely to hear a local German news politician updating the citizenry about the growing tensions of the First Gelid. Unknowingly feeding them information about the state of affairs in their neighbor’s country. All appeared normal. Just the way she liked it, for now. Her long dual pigtails were cast over her shoulders as she leaned forward in her tall chair, the leather creaking audibly. She tapped the lit cigarette pinched between her fingers against the ash tray to one side of her seat, then she exhaled. A stream of hot smoke filtered through the already hazy operations room. Mak breathed deep in, she knew well what risks she was about to take sending the Bheka in like this. But circumstances were dire.

She glanced over to the white haired yordle beside her. He stood patiently with a piece of beige paper in hand. Comrade Boris Bazhanov. Her personal secretary and assistant, and a good one at that. She flipped open the paper, still warm and fresh off the press. At the top the mark of her Committee for State Security agency was stamped in bold ink. Her eyes narrowed in their sockets as she noticed the slight jitter of the page being produced by her shaky hand. She steadied herself and glanced to Bazhanov who averted his gaze immediately after. Then she read.

Six operatives were on standby outside a rural village in Germany’s southern reaches. “Haigerloch”. The Committee believed this place housed the institute they’d been looking for. Somewhere in this little township were the great minds behind the German Uranverein, tucked away and kept a secret… Until now. She glanced further down to the unit in question. “Spetsgruppa “B”, otherwise known as Spetsgruppa ‘Bheka’, Black or Black Bheka. Even Premier Mak Molotok, head of the Soviet Union wasn’t allowed to glimpse their full names. Only the names given to them by their Committee handlers. Matters of security were never taken lightly, even in the highest circles.

Her finger ran along the black ink that struck out their true names, tracing over their rankage and aliases. “Major Meduza, operation lead. Captain Drel, second in command. Lieutenant Krovo. Lieutenant Baran. Lieutenant Myslitel and Lieutenant Byk.” Six of the Committee’s most elite operatives, trained in espionage, intelligence gathering, tactical operations, weapons knowledge and a plethora of other specialized skills were to be sent into Haigerloch with the main objective of locating the Institute. The primary objective appeared to be the capture and safe return of one Kurt Diebner, lead of the project for German nuclear supremacy. Secondary objectives included gathering any intel pertaining to the ‘Uranprojekt’ and eliminating any and all ground-level scientists. Finally the razing of the facility by whatever means necessary.

Mak didn’t need to read much more than she already had. She handed the paper off to Bazhanov with a nod of her head. That was confirmation enough. Boris clapped his hands and the operations room whipped itself into a frenzy. A taller Yordle wearing regal uniform dress entered soon after, his slicked and black long hair fell down past his shoulders and his clean dark fur only furthered his menacing appearance. His mirror-shined boots clacked hard on the tile as he saluted Madam Mak.

Mak looked up at him with low eyes. Aleksandr Panyushkin, First Chief Directorate of the Committee. Or as she referred to him: The Director. She put him at ease with half a hand wave, turning her eyes to the display. Then Mak gestured towards the operations room as if giving him the floor. Aleksandr nodded and turned, stepping to the center aisle that bisected the many consoles housing phones, computer screens, tape recording systems and glowing buttons. Stairs trended downwards towards the wall of screens and information to one extreme of the operations room. His eyes were cast up to the balcony that ran in a semi-circle along the back of the massive chamber. More personnel busied themselves with uncountable tasks up there.

“Do we have feed?” Aleksandr inquired aloud.

The head of Surveillance responded with enthusiasm. “Twenty-fives are in the air and making their rounds, sir. Feed will be live shortly!”

Aleksandr took his position to the right of Madam Molotok, sighing as his ears fluttered and he lowered into his seat. A young secretary wearing formal dress and personnel insignia was just on time with his cup of hot coffee. He took it in hand and gave a small smile of thanks back to her. She nodded and strided away, her heels loudly clicking against the pristine tile. He brought the nondescript mug to his lips and took a sip. It was creamed and sweetened beforehand. That woman knew how to brew a coffee. He sat it down with a satisfied exhale, gripping the microphone at his station.

“All personnel report to your stations, Operation Crash has been greenlit.” He said.

Soon after the feed from the reconnaissance plane digitized on the big screen. He looked up to see a magnified picture of a small rural town amidst a dense european forest. Light snowfall dusted the very tops of the autumn trees. Color on television displays was still in its infancy. It helped understand the situation better. Static filled the room as a hazy feminine voice came through.

“This is Big Eye to Command, do you read, Command? Over.”

“This is Command to Big Eye, reading you three-by-four. Over.” Aleksandr replied.

The audio was often interrupted by raw static and the sound of the Twenty-Five’s roaring jet engine low in the background. But Aleksandr could understand her clearly enough. “Give the ground team the go ahead, Big Eye. Over.”

“Understood, Command. Over.” There was a brief pause as the operations room quieted. “Ground team is a go, getting you eyes now, Command. Over.”

The feed on the rural township minimized, minimized and minimized again, giving them a look at a large swath of southern Germany before it panned, slowly - settled and magnified three times over. Six figures stood at the bank of a river, hardly able to be seen with the lack of lighting provided by the village some half a kilometer away. One figure held an arm in the air, motioning the squad forward and into the brush where they vanished.

Germany, half a klick from the objective zone.

0300 Hours, November, 8th, Third Era.

The Major motioned them forward and they followed, rifles up. They were moving at a brisk pace, not worried about the noise just yet as they closed on the objective. Their night vision goggles were hardly needed at this point, they were so close to the outskirts of Haigerloch. Feet swished audibly in the water as they made their way through the shallow brook and to the other side, crunching against leaves. The entire unit was intelligently fanned out with a minimum of at least four meters between the six of them.

Byk was the furthest left of their formation, silenced rifle covering that flank. A bull of a woman befitting her alias. She was strong and with a darker shade of skin on her than what was normal of Russian women. One long ear had been clipped short by a dagger during training in the Rebirth center and her body was laden with old scars. Her hair came down into a black bob with long bangs that hovered just above the eye. Though disciplined, Byk had a rebellious side. And a less explored softer side. She was the atypical lonewolf in a team setting, keeping everyone at arm's length both physically and emotionally.

To Byk’s right was Myslitel. Their local tech adept. Myslitel was quite a bit shorter than Byk but taller on average than most of the women in the unit. Her bright red hair, tied into a long and flowing single braid, had been dyed black when she was inducted into the Spetsgruppa for obvious reasons - though the red of her roots still shone in places. Her skin was a sky blue tone and her eyes were a mysterious amber-yellow. She was an eccentric personality forced into a mundane role. A role she performed well within, perhaps to the point of being cocky.

Further along the line was Krovo. A close combat specialist with a dark and shrouded military history. Her dosier had more black ink than text. She was a taller woman, older, too - but experienced. Her braided raven black hair was kept up in a high ponytail, cascading down her back a ways. Her ashen gray skin helped to conceal her just that bit more in the dark forest. Piercing purple eyes kept a lookout for patrols ahead. Krovo was the wizened veteran, lacking leadership qualities but instead possessing raw talent for the art of operating in abundance.

To the center of the formation was their leader, Meduza. She was, to put it bluntly, a bitch. But an effective bitch. An all arounder who possessed many skills including the ability to lead. Much like Myslitel, Meduza had a singular long and black braid stretching down her back. Though it was quite a bit wider than her subordinate’s. And just like Myslitel her skin was a shade of blue, though darker and fuller. She was an agile gunfighter, precise and deadly from range. Able to out think and out maneuver her foes with precise, pre-planned routes of attack... When she wasn’t giving orders.

To Meduza’s right was Baran, the lone male of the outfit. Not that he was complaining. He was the closest to Byk in height. His tan fur and swept back fine brown hair bristled in the cool breeze as he swept his sectors. Baran could be considered the joker of the group. He embraced that role, made it his own. He, too, was a close combat specialist, though instead of dealing with blades and fists, he preferred shields and shotguns. His pump-action was always on his person somewhere, no matter what the mission called for.

Finally, to the opposite extreme covering the right flank was Drel. The second in command. Drel was their demolitions expert. She was a short woman but a muscled one. Her tan and lightly furred skin was burned in places. Her auburn hair curled around her visage before falling down her back in one ponytail and two floppy canine-esque ears lied across the top of her head. In all actuality her expertise was more of an obsession. If she wasn’t blowing holes in something or breaching rooms with charges she wasn’t happy. Many saw her as the glue to their unit. She was always the one to come see her subordinates after Meduza had just finished chewing them out.

The unit was coming up on the town now. The river had cut back to present itself as an obstacle they’d have to cross yet again. They maneuvered along its curling bank to a point where the streetlights’ illumination didn’t find them, then they paused, settling to a knee amongst the brush.

“Two armed soldiers on the roof of the two story inn, north-east of us.” Krovo whispered.

All eyes were cast in that direction to see two Wehrmacht soldiers posted on a tall inn on the very edge of town nearest them. This town was guarded. That likely meant what they were searching for was indeed here. Meduza motioned Krovo, Baran and Drel forward across the river. It was just as shallow as it had been before. On the opposite side was a rigid retaining wall about six persons high. It continued along half the outskirts of Haigerloch, it seemed the township sat on some sort of low elevation. An alcove to their right led underneath a bridge where the river continued to circulate through the rural stead.

“Up and over One-two, we’ll cover you.” Meduza said, training her scope on the two high lookouts. Bheka was split into halves with Drel, Krovo and Baran making up One-two while Meduza, Byk and Myslitel made up One-one.

Byk and Myslitel turned to gaze along either stretch of the river, naturally. The other three took careful, plunging steps towards the retaining wall. Once they reached it they began to scale its rough exterior, finding hand holds and foot holds on their way up. Drel was the first to go while the other two remained at the base and covered her ascent. Then Krovo and finally Baran. They made it to the top to find a small cobblestone path that ran the perimeter of the village. They hugged the outside of the nearest building and waited for the other three after Drel motioned them on.

Byk and Myslitel turned with near perfect synchronization, following in the other half of Bheka’s footsteps. They were about halfway to the retaining wall when the rumble of an engine neared. Without an ounce of panic Meduza diverted them to the underside of the bridge. One-two got low as the vehicle closed, shifting out of sight. Meduza saw it just as she obscured herself beneath the bridge. A dated version of the Luchs.

Meduza brought a palm to her earpiece headset. “One times armored personnel carrier patrolling the streets.” She vanished into shadow to join the other two a second later.

“Understood, one-actual. Do you want us to solve that?” Drel inquired with low excitement in her quiet tone.

“Affirmative, One-two. Plant a charge, but don’t blow it yet. We’ll regroup after One-one deals with the lookouts.”

Drel nearly groaned over the radio before clearing her throat. “Copy that. One-two is moving.”

Meduza signalled for Byk and Myslitel to hug the left wall of the shallow canal where they progressed onwards until they reached a ladder. One at a time they went until finally they had surfaced in the town. It was everything one would imagine from an old second age village in the middle of Europe. Tudor style houses with sloping high roofs and chimneys populated the majority of it. There were churches and establishments but mostly this place subsisted on what they produced from the fields nearby. Byk kept an ear out for the Luchs as they moved towards the Inn. There were enough buildings between them and the lookouts to conceal their movements. The only thing to be worried about now were any errant patrols or civilians.

With weapons raised they took corners, staying to the alleys between thoroughfares to avoid the dim streetlights. Myslitel took point, leading them in that north-eastern direction until they came upon the Inn. “Edelwind Inn”, the sign read. Meduza waved them on one at a time, Myslitel first, Byk second and herself last. The Luchs was soon to make its pass so they moved quickly. All three of them went around back, keeping low to avoid being seen. Myslitel found a cellar half window they could squeeze into, running her crescent dagger along its seams to jar the frame free. They arrived to find a space full of kegs and foodstuffs that stunk of aging alcohol. The faint sound of conversation could be heard above.

They eased their way up the wooden steps towards a hatch. Meduza’s palm gently pressed against it and the hatch squeaked just barely in response to her pressure. Two Wehrmacht soldiers sat at the bar making conversation with the young keep. She was a dime with blonde hair and fair blue skin. The both of them were trying their hand at courting her but she deflected their advances with smooth talk of her own, riding that fine line so as to keep their hopes alive.

Meduza threw the hatch open a second later and took the steps quickly. The three of them put precise shots into all three Germans with their silenced rifles. They hardly made a noise. Fine holes bore through their heads and torsos. Both soldiers were slumped across the bar, skulls running with crimson viscera. The barmaiden slumped to the ground a second after, having stumbled into the wall behind the bar - dead. Byk pushed on the door to the kitchen behind the bar immediately after, moving to secure it before they progressed to the next floor. She stopped and grabbed a key ring before giving the all clear with a hand single and they started up the wood stairs after.

Myslitel was once again on point as the rest of One-one stacked at her back. They rode the stairs up, looking left and then right. Four doors on either side of the landing and no one in the hallways. Like most inns and hotels it had a master key which would be useful for sorting out these rooms. Many were empty but a few housed more Wehrmacht. One horny soldier was in the middle of pleasing his woman when Myslitel abruptly ended their fun and their lives.

Then it was up to the roof. The two guards quieted down as they heard the three operators creaking up the stairs. “Is that you, Otto?” One guard inquired in German.

They were all agents of the Union so their index of languages was broad. “No, it’s me, Ivan.” Myslitel chuckled back in German, swinging out of the door to riddle both men with bullets. Then they were all reloading.

After the rooftop was taken Meduza came to the edge of the building, producing her binoculars to give the village a once over from above. There was nothing overly remarkable about Haigerloch at first glance. The fact this place had running water and electricity surprised her. But then again, most places did nowaday. Before the First Gelid during those bleak days of constant war between nations, power grids were hardly if ever functioning. And still only for major population centers like Moscow and Novosibirsk. The Gelid had changed a lot of things. But no one had any illusions about what went on behind the guise of peace. This was still very much a war. Just fought in a different way. No one wanted to be the nation that fired the first shot. Save for Tresa and her extremists.

She finally found the Luchs chugging down the main thoroughfare where it turned and rolled up a hill towards a… Church? Big Eye had done its rounds beforehand and couldn’t seem to find any concentration of bodies. It was an advanced machine but even it couldn’t tell a Wehrmacht soldier from a civilian. The fact they hadn’t been able to spot the Luchs at all seemed strange, though. It must’ve only patrolled at night when the twenty-five’s couldn’t photograph clearly. They were taking every precaution to keep this place a secret. It seemed.

Just then Meduza turned to the sound of Myslitel spitting. She held a flask taken from the dead soldier nearby. “What the hell is that shit?” The woman wheezed with a grimace of disgust.

Byk swiped the flask away silently and starred at Myslitel for a moment before she turned the flask up and took a swig.

“Be my guest.” Myslitel waved her hands in defeat.

Byk smacked her lips a few times over, dropping the flask on the corpse immediately after. “Tastes like-”

“Shut the fuck up and pull security. I’m calling this in.” Meduza shut them both down, turning to gaze upon the suspicious church once more.

The two of them sat silent for a moment before securing the stairs up to the rooftop.

“One-actual to one-two, do you read?”

Drel patched in a moment later. “Loud and clear Actual, send it.”

“Is the carrier taken care of?”

“Affirmative, Actual.” Drel said. “The ay-pee-see is rigged to be detonated at any time.”

“Excellent, One-two. There’s a church on a hill to the north of our entry point, do you see it?” Meduza slid her binoculars away.

Drel hummed into the radio softly before responding. “Affirmative, I see it, Actual.”

“I believe this is where the Institute is being housed. The carrier just disappeared behind the building and hasn’t re-emerged. Rendezvous on the southern side and we’ll investigate.”

“Copy that, Actual. One-two is enroute.” Drel cut the line a moment later.

The entirety of Bheka gazed up at the church on the hill from the safety of the forest’s treeline. A sign nearby read “Schlosskirche”, or Castle Church. Unlike its neighboring buildings the Schlosskirche didn’t appear as dated. In fact it looked relatively modern. A tiny detail that anyone less experienced wouldn’t have noticed. Everything about it was lacking weathering from the roof to the very stone it was structured upon. The foundation being especially new was the strangest detail and Baran was quick to point that out.

“This shit looks brand new.” Baran gestured to the stone set around the church. “I’m thinkin’ underground facility? Why else would they need to pour new concrete?”

“I don’t disagree.” Drel finally looked up from her detonator, pocketing it.

“How are we doing this?” Krovo asked, turning her gaze to Meduza.

“Fast and quiet, the broadcast station can’t be too deep. Destroy that and it’s just a matter of mopping up.” Meduza racked the charging handle on her rifle. “Baran, Krovo, take point.”

“With pleasure.” Krovo whispered, bouncing off her knee to a stand where she and Baran led the group to the door.

Their blackened and unmarked uniforms made them look something like ghostly shadows working their way towards the door of the warmly lit castle church. It was an immense building, many times larger than them. The exterior wasn’t finely decorated like the gothic architecture that populated most of Berlin. Its spire and the dull wooden cross that sat atop it were unremarkable. Any passersby wouldn’t be faulted for thinking this had always been here. It replicated its surroundings near perfectly, save for the fact it didn’t share their age.

An archway filled with two heavy wooden doors greeted them. The doors ticked open as Baran and Krovo shoved hard against them. The Wehrmacht outside were replaced by Black Suits. Or at least that’s what Bheka called them. In reality they were the Waffen’s elite guardians meant to protect people and places of interest. They were well trained, bordering on special forces knowledge. Meduza and her second swung into the gap just as the doors were pressed open, splitting the room in half between them.

The interior certainly didn’t mirror the exterior. It was like they’d entered a time capsule of the renaissance. Authentic looking tapestries played across the walls and vaulted ceilings, pictures depicting Jesus, angels and the dramatic events of the bible were drawn with immaculate detail and framed in golden fretwork. More gold used as detailing danced around the tall windows. Two rows of wooden pews with flowing designs carved into their arm rests ran from front to back with a central aisle leading up to a dais that housed an altar. Further behind that was the chancel, including the dome-shaped ceiling above the apse.

Several Black Suits turned and then stood upon seeing Bheka enter the church. The men and women in the pews were too close to beat Meduza and Drel who had been on point even before the doors opened. It was surgical. Hardly anyone even managed to get a hand on their gun before they were struck. Their silenced weapons reverberated off the theater-esque church walls. Then Byk and Myslitel were pushing in behind them, their sights trained forward in the direction of the chancel and its occupants. Four more Black Suits sat behind the altar. They were only a fraction luckier than their allies in the pews, dying a few seconds after rather than immediately. The four of them went combat gliding down the aisle now, with Meduza and Drel turning back to check the mezzanine above while Byk and Myslitel continued sweeping.

“Drel, clear the spire. The rest of you, on me.” Meduza prompted them with hand signals, slotting in a new magazine as soon as bullets had stopped flying.

Drel diverted towards the flight of stairs to one side of the crossing just as Baran closed the doors and jogged to join the rest. The remainder of Bheka moved up onto the dais and deeper into the chancel where they spied a long opening in the ground towards the center of the apse. The Black Suits hadn’t even bothered to hide their secret entry point. They were probably comfortable and feeling untouchable down here in the south. The odds of this operation happening were slim to none. But the Committee’s field agents were better than most.

Another deep flight of concrete stairs led downwards to a code-locked metal blast door. Meduza tapped Myslitel and gestured towards the glowing door console. The tech adept approached and opened the underside panel, examining its inner workings and exposing wires. Her tools were needed for a lock this advanced. From a waist pack on her hip came a plethora of gadgets and simple tools like pliers and screwdrivers. She didn’t bother explaining her process, however long it may have been. After rerouting the wiring she was able to splice it together and jolt the door open.

Krovo and Baran were the first to enter, clearing a foyer with a water fountain in the center that featured a large statue of the Fuhrer Tresa Kempka alongside Kaiser Wilhelm the second. The room had all the doctored flair of an expensive college campus, befitting an underground institute. The marble tiled floor of the chamber appeared to be an elaborate map of Germany and all its territories in the past. Two guards stood vigil on either flank of the entrance. They were none the wiser. Krovo slung her rifle and produced her crescent blade, a weapon gifted to the entirety of Bheka after graduating from the Rebirth center.

She closed for the kill and so did Baran, hooking her knife around the guard’s neck to cut into the exposed flesh. These Nazis didn’t deserve an ounce of mercy. Her crescent blade slipped back into its rounded sheath at her side after. The rest of the squad was pushing in, kicking away their fallen weapons so they bled slow and couldn’t retaliate.

Drel was joining them soon after and the whole of Bheka continued through the foyer and into the next chamber. “Pretentious bitch.” Drel scoffed, looking up at the statue of Tresa.

The room ahead appeared to be an office area of sorts with personnel at their individual tables working hard on computers. Hardly any of them were armed and the ones that were had dinky sidearms. The mass of secretaries and paper pushers were massacred, swiftly. But the sheer amount of bodies meant they weren’t able to prevent fire in return. The sound of a German standard issue semi-automatic sauers reverberated through the facility’s depths. The whole of bheka paused after the last desk hand hit the floor. An alarm shocked them back into action, confirming their suspicions.

“We’re compromised! Drel, that’s your cue!” Meduza slipped a new magazine into her weapon from her belt, sprinting down the long carpeted hall towards the next doorway.

“Oh, finally!” Drel giggled, crunching the plunger on her detonator.

An explosion somewhere nearby shook the very foundations of the Institute’s interior. A good diversion tactic that would no doubt displace the guards. “Let’s clean up this mess before they start burning documents!” Meduza kicked open the next door.

More office cubicles and more fleeing personnel. This isn’t where they wanted to be. Meduza directed them forward, they had to keep moving. The longer it took them to close on the labs and the eggheads the more likely it’d be that Diebner would either escape or take his own life. Secondaries came out in the form of automatic rifles, shotguns and sub-machine guns that would make short work of this fodder. No one could leave this facility alive. No one but them, anyways. The room was dead in less than a minute and they were moving on.

Fresh magazines were loaded in just as Krovo booted through the next set of double doors only to be met with a hail of gunfire in return. Luckily she stepped aside just before it found her.

“Flash up!” Byk shouted, pulling the pin on her flash grenade before dishing it into the room. Baran was next, priming a smoke grenade just in case any of their opposition wasn’t blind when they entered.

A hollow explosion followed by a thin whining caught their ears. And finally the pop and hiss of the smoke grenade blooming and dispersing through the room. Krovo laid down suppressing fire through its depths for a half second as Baran pressed in with his shotgun low to his chest. He emerged from the smoke cloud, pumping it hard before delivering gauge directly into the torso of the first Black Suit he encountered. A lab room was laid before them, smooth white floors and tall tape drives lined the walls while black top tables covered in papers and equipment occupied the majority of its area.

Scientists in white lab coats were on their way out through the far door. Above the lab room was a balcony with a set of stairs leading up to it. At the center sat a small windowed control room where an officer with a headset frantically shouted into his microphone. Meduza pierced the smoke, leveling her rifle at one blind Black Suit. Her volley ripped through his person then it was onto the next and the one after that. With the last of her magazine she set her sights on the officer behind the glass. Sweeping her salvo across its breadth.

The officer just managed to duck out of the way before she could take his head. She cursed aloud and fell into cover to find a new magazine from her rigging. Myslitel followed up, strafing to one flank of the opposition that was once more returning fire. She rattled off with her submachine gun, ducking low and pushing forward under the cover of the lab tables. Glass beakers shattered overhead as bullets cut in her direction.

Byk and Baram pressed down the center, now supported by Drel and Krovo. “There’s a lot of flammable shit in here, isn’t there?” Baram grunted, forcing shells into his pump action.

“Did you finally notice the bright yellow signs?” Myslitel replied over the radio.

“Something like that.” Baram was up again after that, firing from the hip at one Black Suit who advanced when he ducked his head. He was comically knocked off his feet as if his back were suddenly magnetized to the floor - such was the force of Baram’s pump action.

Byk pressed hard, wanting to end the engagement before it could draw itself out. Like clockwork the barrel of her rifle whipped left to cut a woman down, and right to kill another. She gathered herself and sprinted ahead, sliding over the blacktop and directly into the rising chest of a hidden Black Suit, knocking him to the ground. Her first found his jaw several times over until he was stunned enough that she could run his neck with her crescent blade.

Myslitel was already moving up into the balcony to finish off the communication’s officer. She wet the broadcast booth with rounds as she moved across the balcony, keeping her opposition’s head down until she was able to see him and put shots on target. The rest of her magazine was spent destroying the radio equipment. Everyone reloaded in preparation for the next room.

Meduza glanced through papers for a moment before speaking up. “Drel, start rigging this place up to blow. Myslitel, you’re on intel duty. Grab what you can. Rest of us keep pushing till we find Diebner.”

More lab doors lie ahead with tall rectangular windows. Meduza could see the panicked scientists moving frantically in the room amidst more Waffen. The faint flickering of firelight was obvious. These lab doors slid open as opposed to swinging. It was a decontamination chamber. Everyone gripped their masks on their belts and slipped them on, just in case. The walls decompressed and filled the room with mist as a redlight flashed overhead. The next door opened with a bang as the squad split in half, using the edges of the doorway to shield themselves from the volleys.

“Fuck, there’s Diebner!” Krovo pointed.

One scientist in particular fit the description. A middle-aged male with wild grey-white fur, short ears and large spectacles. Krovo picked off one of the guards escorting him and he fell to his knees, scampering across the chamber floor. It was a massive control room of sorts. Likely monitoring some sort of nuclear activity. In the center a massive console like a funnel bloomed into the ceiling with all kinds of wires and girders above to mask just how high the ceiling really was. The alarm sirens continued to blare as the Bheka cleared the initial wave of Black suits with one collective volley.

More flashes covered their push into the room. Two broke left and two broke right, wiping out another layer of concussed Waffen. Every so often they’d spare a bullet to take out some egghead too far behind their herd of fleeing scientists. The Bheka worked their way up to the nearest set of consoles just as Diebner managed to safely reach one of two exits.

“Krovo, Byk! On him!” Meduza ordered, slotting one of her last magazines into her rifle before rattling off a volley at the bastion of Black Suits behind their consoles. Screens shattered into glass and sparks flew from damaged tech. Meduza used the last bit of her magazine to take out some of the lights above, that would hopefully be enough to get them to that door safely.

The two of them pursued, vaulting over machinery under the cover of Baran and Meduza. They reached the door just as Krovo took a bullet to the ear and the shoulder. She whined in pain, pressing through with Byk.

“You good?” Byk asked.

“Fine, fine!” Krovo nodded hard with grit teeth.

They finally caught up to the bastard scientist and his herd after passing several private offices and testing facilities. They were scampering down a flight of stairs with a protection detail of Waffen elite. The two operatives laid into their backs with automatic fire, weaving their bullets around Diebner to the best of their ability. Bodies fell and tumbled down the steps and so did Kurt, gathering himself at the bottom. The chase continued as Diebner sprinted for an elevator. The door lay open for him to escape and he would’ve made it if it weren’t for Byk putting a round into his knee.

The cowardly scientist collapsed with a harsh “Fuck!” In German. He hopelessly clawed his way to the elevator, stopped several meters short by Krovo who stepped on his very fresh wound. He cried out again in a violent flurry of swearing. Krovo hoisted him up by the collar and slammed him against the wall, producing her sidearm to press against his temple.

“Ach-vee-tee is secured, Actual!”

Byk stepped into the elevator out of sheer curiosity, glancing at the buttons. Her finger ghosted them with narrowed eyes. She swiftly noticed that all of them sent the elevator down and not up. None of the labels mentioned anything about an escape route.

“Copy that, bring him back up!” Meduza replied.

“Wait one, Actual.” Byk said.

Krovo glanced to Byk immediately after. “What are you doing?”

“There’s a floor here… It says ‘Em-Em three-three-five’ testing chamber.’”

“So?” Krovo shrugged.

Byk shook her head. “Take him up, I’ll be right behind you.”

“Fine. But it’s your ass on Meduza’s platter, not mine.” Krovo forced the limping scientist around, walking him back up the stairs.

Byk stepped into the elevator, hitting the button that would bring her to MM-335. The elevator door closed shut, sending her down with a low hum. She exhaled, hoping it wasn’t some room full to the brim with radioactive equipment. The door opened and the room was pitch black. A set of switches beside the door prompted her to flick them, turning on the lights one by one to illuminate a gigantic underground room. A strange device, about as big as the room was wide, occupied its center. The unexplained device seemed inactive at the moment. She approached the many tables gathered around the edges of the room, foraging for any information on what this might be. She soon stumbled upon layouts and design maps of machines with similar names like MM-336 and so on. Her brow furrowed at the thought of more of… Whatever this was. She gathered as many documents and design maps as she could. Whatever it was, it was about to be buried.

Byk stepped back into the elevator, hitting the button. The door slowly shut on the curious machine. A gentle exhale escaped her, then. Almost a sigh of relief. It had a strange and foreboding aura about it. It was something she didn’t want to even think about. Her lack of knowing was probably for the best.