France

1940

2:50 a.m.

Drake sprinted towards the crashed car impaled through the cafe window, shards of glass and blood scattered about. He glanced at the front where two fighters lay still, bloody heads resting against the dash. Then he moved to the back and ripped open a door, where he found Dubois.

He pushed a corpse aside and dragged Dubois from the car, though he groaned in agony. Upon closer inspection, Drake saw a patch of blood on his stomach with a single hole. Dubois groaned and covered the wound with a hand, gore pouring from the hole. Drake knew a dead man when he saw one. Dubois was no different and eventually, he would be left behind like the thousands before him.

He and Dubois locked gazes. Inside his glassy green eyes, Drake could see Dubois was thinking the same thing. His breaths became shallower by the second and every time Drake tried to drag him from the car he fell.

“Come on, you fool!” Drake gritted. Explosions went off in the distance, each one growing closer to them. “If you don’t move, you’ll die!”

Dubois released a loud moan and rolled over.

Gas leaking from the car collected into a large pool beside them. By the time Drake noticed it, he was too late…

A sparking cable hanging from the car’s belly contacted the fuel and ignited, creating a circle of flames. As the flames devoured more fuel, they grew larger, engulfing the car’s body and spreading to the store front. Drake covered Dubois with his body as a second ignition propelled the flames towards him. The blast blew him and Dubois back a few feet, dazing them and dulling their senses.

When Drake opened his eyes, he thought he rested amid an inferno.

Dark, billowing smoke rose from multiple spots of the village. The rising fires turned night into day, leaving a blurred haze of smoke and ash. Villagers shrilled along with perpetual bursts of gunfire. Drake planted a hand and raised himself up as more residents ran past him. Blood oozed from his ringing ears and sweat stung his eyes. Despite this, his only concern was Dubois.

He couldn’t see him, instead relying on smell. The heavy stench of alcohol permeated him, and Drake reached to his left. He felt the flesh of Dubois’ arms and pulled. Dubois grunted; the bastard was still alive. A wide simper formed on Drake and he nearly kissed the man’s forehead in rejoice.

When the ringing faded and his vision cleared, he stood and grabbed Dubois by the suspenders, lifting him single-handedly; a weapon in his other hand. Then they ran.

Drake turned the other way towards the bridge now occupied by two Tiger tanks bombarding the village. The red serial numbers adorning the turrets identified it as a model of his own making; a model shipped from his own factory. Most likely to include the ammunition and explosives besieging the village as well. It left him no choice. He and Dubois would be forced to traverse the village in the opposite direction for refuge.

He merged with the panicked villagers as a violent firefight ensued, as the Germans engaged resistance fighters. They took up what little arms they had against the overwhelming onslaught of armored vehicles and infantry.

Muzzle flashes from machine guns illuminated the night, and bullets ripped through targets indiscriminately. Drake ran through the pandemonium, keeping his body low and Dubois snug against him as the earth waving explosions hit. He watched resistance fighters be struck down as bullets seared through their chests and ignited like tiny firecrackers. The barrage of bullets flying past him sounded like bird whistles.

They continued into the belly of the beast as more Germans swarmed the roads and alleyways, slaughtering everything in their path and setting it ablaze.

In just a matter of minutes, Drake no longer saw the cozy little village from before, but nothing more than blazing buildings and houses. Flame troopers cremated the piles of corpses lying on the roads.

Seared flesh and gunpowder filled the air, stinging Drake’s nostrils and eyes. He followed a group of civilians into an alleyway where they encountered a squad of Germans. They cut through the group and shifted their fire to Drake, grazing his jacket and chipping off edges of the buildings. When they emerged, a tank rolled over cars parked on the curb, swinging its turret at them and firing.

The explosion knocked them to the ground, leaving a deep crater just a few feet away. When the dirt finished pelting Drake’s head, he looked up to check on Dubois. Dubois blinked and whimpered, soil fixed in his eyes. Shrieking in the distance continued as the Germans made their way into the village. Soldiers shrouded in night surrounded them, all displaying gas masks beneath their helmets with flamethrowers.

Drake clenched the scarab in his pocket and tossed aside his gun. He could cut them down in one stroke. But if he did — then everyone would know Drake banker, the Merchant of Death was here.

He squeezed the golden scarab ready to summon its power in an instant. Instead, the soldiers sprayed their flames into the air, creating a significant barrier of fire, sealing them in a small area. The tormenting moans and wails of the villagers convinced Drake he was in hell. If hell on earth was real… this was it.

Heavy footsteps pounded behind him, kicking away chunks of stone and rolling away obstructing corpses. Drake looked and saw a woman standing atop a mountain of debris and human detritus, a tide of fire rising behind her. Darkness obscured her, leaving only her silhouette and glaring red eyes.

For a moment, Drake only heard crackling flames and Dubois’ whimpers. The woman approached, drawing her dagger like claws and picking up momentum to charge. Drake crushed the scarab, dispersing it into the black sand. The sand manifested into a large scythe, its molten red blade igniting; a silver pole that resembled a human spine. The legendary blade, Acheron.

Drake took up a fighting stance but lowered his blade suddenly. His face softened and eyes widened as the fire’s light revealed the woman’s face. “S — Sister?”

The girl gasped, returning an equally perplexed expression. “Brother?”

She stopped where she stood, claws in the air reaching for his face. Her red eyes gleamed, as did Drake’s blue eyes, like fire and ice colliding. A respirator-like mask covered the lower portion of her face, as did the long bangs of her raven colored hair. Like Irene, the woman sported a pale complexion unlike Drake’s olive skin. She embellished herself in a black latex suit, favored by females in the espionage community.

Patches on her shoulders showed red skulls with a swastika on top. Her hair fell, grazing the pouches and equipment hanging from her utility belt. Men shouted in German, rallying themselves towards her location.

“Aspasia…” Drake prompted. “How long have you been awake —?”

Dubois reached for the fallen weapon by Drake’s feet and used his remaining strength to steady it and fire. Aspasia yelped as a bullet struck her shoulder. Dubois fired four more shots, each one missing as she bounded back through the wall of fire to safety. He dropped the gun as he succumbed to the wound in his gut. The flame troopers guarding them from behind closed in for the kill.

They stood side by side and marched towards them, spewing deadly fire from their flamethrowers. Drake could see the perspiration in the eye slots of their masks; he could hear their muffled breaths. The troopers recited chants to keep themselves aligned and in step. Also, a way to strike fear into the hearts of their enemies.

“Looks like this is it…” Dubois said.

Drake raised the scythe over and spun it over his head. “Not yet…”

He swung his infernal blade that cut through the fire and into their flesh. The blade extended twice its length laterally dissecting each German at the waist. Blood glazed the blade as it shrunk and returned to Drake’s side. It glowed and let out a low trill, its thirst quenched by the fresh souls. Drake stepped forward, and with one swing, quelled the wall of flames.

Dubois looked onto him in both fear and awe, fierce blue eyes unlike any living thing in existence. “You’re not human. What in God’s name are you? A devil?”

Drake regarded him coldly. “No, much worse…”