War Worlds

[arcanus]

Berlin – April 1945

Divergence Point(s): None identified.
Current Events: The Red Army surrounds the Nazi Capital, crushing the German people in their unstoppable advance.

Neukölln District – South Berlin
The surrounding cityscape was one drawn straight from Hell itself, any recognisable buildings and streets demolished by Wehrmacht defensive fortifications or Red Army artillery.
The historical Gründerzeit Buildings largely destroyed, decades if not Centuries of architectural history laid to waste.

The final Allied air raid had finished leaving the way for the Red Army, their scouts now crept into the ruins, sporadic fire fights erupted across the city.
Upon encountering heavy resistance the Soviets unleashed unimaginable levels of artillery and the infamous Stalin’s Organs, sheets of fire ascending to the heavens before raining devastation down upon the survivors.

Digital information flowed through the travellers field of vision, a stranger in a strange land he had little knowledge of this places history, however in the few days that he’d been here he’d understood the ferocity of the conflict and its inhumanity.
A sickly taste sat in the back of this throat, from his vantage point within the shell of what might have once been someone’s shop he looked in sadness at the swinging corpse of a boy, no more than fourteen or fifteen, the enemy hadn’t reached this point yet so his own side had hung him.

The four pointed symbol of the doomed regime, sat ominously within it white circle surrounded by blood red, its monsters presumably the ones who had taken a frightened boy and perpetrated this horror.
‘The Evil that men do’ he thought, glancing left and right, no one was visible he quickly darted from his cover and down into a subway entrance, as he did the entire square above him erupted in rocket fire from descending.

Pressing his not inconsiderable size into the shadows of the deserted tunnels he checked his scanner, the information again relayed into his vision.
It had taken him two days to isolate a fix, his research had identified these Worlds as having the highest concentrations, however the sheer devastation and level of material had required a considerable amount of filtering while dodging murderous inhabitants.
Another warning flashed in his sight, odd a temporal flux, a spike of temporal energy.
He had to develop a way of communicating with Strad, isolation wasn’t good or healthy.

***
East Templehoff District - South Central Berlin
Private Moors turned as the night sky turned white, he saw a wide column of fire rise in a vertical line and immediately descend, he had no time to shout any warning as the streets were enveloped in cleansing fire.
Blinded he felt the impact against left side of his ribcage, as he was smashed to the floor by the force, his pained cry drowned in the fury, his vision swam swirls of black across white.
As it finally cleared he sensed the heat of anger and violence, a muffled voice, urgent

“Moor, getf uph, get up!”
As his vision grew clearer he saw the Lieutenant shaking him, in slow motion he saw a cloud erupt from the back of his helmet and Moor shouted again as his CO fell upon him.
Tearfully his vision still blurred he saw figures running towards him, one scrambling up the pile of wreckage on which he lay, he shouted impotently.

The red star on the attackers helmet exploded outwards, the contorted look of rage upon his face unchanged as his body wilted beneath him.
A bulky figure flung the wreckage of a building off him as he came out firing, he had resurfaced behind the Russian unit, putting a pistol round through each of them.
One Red managed to avoid his fate, ambushing him from the side, Moor squinted managing to pick out that the figure was the new Sarge, the big man caught the Reds charge catching his collar with his free left hand and swinging him into the nearest wall.
Moor blinked as almost magically a blade appeared in the sarges hand, may be it was more but his vision was still all out of wack, he winced as the sarge slammed the blade through the Russians back.

“Get up” said the sarge, as he rolled Lieutenant Finch’s corpse off him, Moor did as he was told the sarge didn’t look in the mood, his combats and face were scorched and blackened.
“Sssss Sarge”
The big man just looked at him
“Where are the others?”
“Probably dead” came the reply as he moved off
The OGS Unit had known that his was probably a no return mission, suicide but reality was a bit more difficult to swallow.

***
East Templehoff District - South Central Berlin
“CRYING A STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN, AAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH”
the notes swam through the Chorus, Raz crouched over Annette his vision concentrating on the oddly intact yellow post box across the street.
Fire and concussion swam around him, the trick was to intercept the cacophony and twist it upon itself, to throw the blast notes back upon itself, the strain was maintaining this.

A moment that stretched on forever, Annette screaming beneath him ‘Keep singing’ he shouted in his head ‘KEEP SINGING’

Finally the rain of fire stopped, his vision swimming he listened to the sounds filtering the remnants of destruction, then faintly he heard a new but welcome note ‘At last’
Annette Garrett stood fear subsided, then coalescing into anger “Why the hell did you bring me here!” he snapped
“Ssssh” Raz said in reply
“Don’t you shush me”
“This way” he said, grabbing her arm and started to run
“What about the others” she blurted surprised to be hurried
“Can you see them”
Annette quickly looked around, all she could see was smouldering rubble, saying nothing more she quickened her pace

***
South East Templehoff District - South Central Berlin
The pair of them looked somewhat stunned by the scene before them
“Bloody hell” breathed Sam
Jimmy Ambrose snapped out of it, crouched and drew the map Van Horne had given him.
“Sam, look lively” he said a little too properly for Jimmy, but sufficiently curt enough to get his attention
“Sorry Sir”
The pair of them watched as the rickety Conveyer cycled through its coordinates and then finally vanished, it certainly wasn’t an Infinity Conveyer, it had creaked and shuddered during transit which was several minutes beyond instantaneous.

“Right according to our friend the quickest and least hostile route is to use the auxiliary transit tunnel to the Airports basement levels, it will be guarded but less so than any other route”
Sam regarded the map, “The subway being the best route to this tunnel?” he replied
“Yes” Jimmy regarded the map and looked around, they were hidden within the wreckage of an office, however every building around them was a shell.
“I think the nearest entrance is here” he pointed to the map
Sam nodded, shouldering his heavy pack and unslinging his mechanised carbine, they flinched as to the north the sky lit up and a rocket attack smashed into an area.

Silently they both made their way into the ruins.

[arcanus]

Allied France – April 1945

Divergence Point(s): None identified.
Current Events: The final weeks of World War II in Europe.

French Airspace.
Had the Arador Ar 234 Jet bomber entered the Luftwaffe’s arsenal even a few months earlier the Allies would have had a serious problem.
Karl von Geller was impressed, this was a plane of another age, the herald of three decades of conflict to come, it had reached a speed of 700 mph and passed the Soviet air defence before they’d even had time to react.
The Luftwaffe pilot swung the plane immediately south and kept the throttle down, the ME 262 peeled off and headed North.

Despite his better judgement he’d martialled the remaining OGS GIs, pushed them through the German defences and beyond the Red Armies advance.
They’d hit the museum, their objective dead along with the Leuitenant, his however he’d found in the hands of what turned out to be another traveller and thus an impass had arisen.

He’d postioned the GIs around the Nazi doctor, just in case he might have got any ideas of treacherory, try that among a group of tired, trigger happy paratroopers who’d just been shot at by your army.

Satisfied he’d secured any relative threats he headed towards the back benchs of the plane, opposite the individual he’d learned was called Lord Sebastian Reynolds.
He hadn’t checked the package the Lord had handed him, but he’d been a private eye for several decades and a person didn’t just hand over something they’d risked life and limb to acquire, not without arguement or threat to life and limb.
As he took his seat he sized the English toff up, physically lithe Von Geller however was wary, he sensed a powerful force of personality, an individual who also didn't play his hand too soon.

An useful ally or dangerous opponent.

[arcanus]

Murcia, Spain - Late April 1945
The Arador jet came down heavily along a makeshift airstrip through a tobacco field, torches lit its passage through the early morning darkness, its jets incinerating the crops to its rear as it bumped along the farmland.

Their reception were Spaniards, who seemed to be friendly with the Nazi Doctor, a few odd looks were exchanged at the rag tag group including soldiers in American uniforms, however they were all equally hurried to awaiting cars and driven some 20 miles to the coast.

As dawns light broke over the Mediterranean Sea - Berlin seemed like a distant nightmare.
Lord Roborough, Karl Von Geller, Annette Garrett, Raz’real Sephiroth and Otto Von Weirdigan sat upon the baroque terrace of the La Torre Resort Hotel, bone deep weariness preventing any meaningful conversation or even inclination to move.

The yanks were in the hotels bar toasting departed comrades and thanking the stars for their own survival, wearily one by one the haphazard collection drifted from their seats responding to the call of sleep.

[arcanus]

La Torre Resort Hotel , Murcia, Spain - April 1945
A great many more years than his outward appearance would suggest, of experience took Karl Von Geller from fast asleep to wide awake.
He sensed trouble moments before the first shot was fired, still dressed in his shirt and trousers, he pulled his briefs back over his shoulders, drew his automatics and folded into the window frame.
Several figures were covering the retreat of a group who in turn were clambering aboard a canvas covered truck, below him on the sand coloured slabs lay several figures bleeding out.

A plethora of visual enhancers gave him almost daylight quality vision, which quickly told him the Nazi doctors Spanish allies were the wounded.
He frowned as he caught sight of one of the attackers “You shouldn’t be here he muttered”
Unaware of the circumstances these creatures presence wasn’t good, snapping his .45 up he fired, two rounds catching the nearest opponent, he didn’t pause a second double tap into the next and another set into the back of the third within sight.

He ducked as a volley of automatic fire smashed into the window frame, which fortunately being an old stone affair took the punishment, he swung back exposing only his arm and returned fire.
The nearest two had taken the rounds and were still standing, swinging back he reloaded, waited out the next barrage and resumed fire, concentrating completely on one opponent.
The firing stopped, catching a quick glimpse one was downed, the others retreating, looking down he cursed, another form was lying wounded, the camp ones girl “Damn”

***
Digitalised neural pathways fired, subconscious subroutines were overridden by alarms that brought Otto Von Weirdigan back to the land of the living.
A sense of disconnection struck him as he looked up from his four poster at the faux Renaissance painting adorning the ceiling above him, he frowned was that gunfire.
‘It bloody was’ he mentally bellowed throwing the sheets off himself and leaving the best days sleep he had in a good number of days, pulling some clothes on he thundered down the main staircase, rushing toward the sound of the gunfire he spotted the prone form of Raz’s friend Annett.
His survival instincts were overruled by his sense of protection, barrelling through the shattered French doors and took a defensive stance over her body, as a reward he was struck by several rounds.

Otto ignored them as he focused on another fallen form “What the Fuck are you doing here” he snarled

***
Lord Roborough had quickly acquainted himself with the situation, trouble it seemed followed them where ever they went.
Sam had already proceeded down the stairs, quickly returning “Sir, Miss Garrett has been shot”
“Damn” cursed Reynolds, “And Mr Meldtz is missing from his room”
Reynold’s was already moving back along the first floor balcony, arriving at a certain room and began to hammer on the door.

“RAZ GET UP, ANNETTS HURT”
No answer
“RAZ GET UP”
No answer
“RAZ FOR GOODNESS SAKE GET THE HELL UP!”
The door swung open and a face covered in blond hair looked at him
“Wuz goin on” Raz slurred
Reynolds wasted little time grabbing the elf and rushing him downstairs

[Keeper]

Reynolds stood aside from Annette and let Raz, who seemed to have sobered up in an instant at the sight of the young woman’s injuries, get on with whatever it was he did.
Otto and von Geller were more interested in the assailants and seemed to be chatting in hushed tones about them.
Reynolds’ interest had been purely on the reporter and therefore he had paid little attention to them. Raz and Sam carefully lifted Annette and carried her to the lounge where Raz had her laid on a settee.
The baron felt pretty useless at the moment.
Von Geller came up alongside him, standing in the doorway and observing from a distance. “How’s she doing?”
“I’m not sure. Raz has a lot of hidden talents and I’m betting he will not see her ill for long.”
“Good,” the big man said.
“Do we know what this was all about?” Reynolds asked.
“Not yet. Otto’s looking into it, I think.”
“Well, whatever it is could spell more trouble to come,” Reynolds said glancing across at the soldier.
“Mr von Geller,” he said quietly, so that his conversation would not be overheard, “You and I should have a chat.”
“Yes, but is now the time?”
“If we are about to get involved in something here, then I need to know that you and I have an understanding.”
“Fair enough. What have you got to say?”
“I know why you are here, and that Sciven sent you.”
Von Geller gave the Englishman a curious sideways glance.
“Then you know I’m not going to be taking an old grubby map of Germany back to him.”
Reynolds gave an embarrassed smile. “Yes, well, I didn’t figure on us staying together for this amount of time. I had assumed that we would all be parting company rather rapidly. Sorry.”
“But we didn’t so here we are…”
“Indeed. You are a soldier, so I would assume that the item itself is not so important as the money you have been paid to collect it?”
“I’m a private investigator and no it’s not just about the money. I’ll make a guess here – you were about to offer me more than Sciven. But I have a reputation to maintain and that includes loyalty to my clients.”
“Loyalty?” Reynolds scoffed. “You needn’t worry about loyalty where that treacherous bastard is concerned.”
Von Geller turned to face the Englishman now so that he could study his face. “That sounded a little more than someone just repeating something they had heard,” he stated.
“Yes,” Reynolds admitted. “I won’t go into the details, but a colleague and I were employed on a job by your Mr Sciven. He set us up for a fall and tried to make off with the proceeds. It was only sheer blood mindedness on my part that stopped him and my friend lost a leg over it.”
Von Geller was quiet for a while, then said, “I know the sort of man Sciven is, Mr Reynolds,” he was sure not to use the honorific title so that Reynolds remembered that they were on an even footing here. “And I know just how far to trust him. But he’s not just a paycheque, he’s a contact for other clients that I can’t afford to let go.”
Reynolds walked a few paces from the door, his back to von Geller and he lit a cigar, offering one to the PI who accepted with a nod.
“I’ll be straight with you, Mr von Geller. If it came down to going toe to toe with you I know you’d come off the better, despite the efforts of Mr Brocklesby to thwart you. But I don’t work that way. I would rather come to an arrangement we both found to our advantage.”
Sitting in a chair he motioned for the German-born American to do the same.
“What would you say if I were to offer you half of what I make when I sell the documents to Sciven’s employer direct. Sciven takes one hell of a cut if I remember correctly. This way you gain financially, I’ll tell the client that you got it - thus keeping your reputation intact, and I’ll introduce you to Mr van Locke, who can probably offer you equally as lucrative work as Sciven, without the high probability of you getting fucked over? Either that or you can just tell Sciven that I got there first. He knows who I am and that I’m more than capable of stealing things right from under a person’s nose. I can’t see that would hurt your rep, he’d be more pissed off at me. So how about it?”

Again von Geller was quiet. The offer was tempting, but there was something nagging at the back of his mind that said he should complete the mission.
He had to remind himself that he wasn’t a soldier anymore and this wasn’t a mission, no matter how much it felt like one. This was a job, and one that he could walk away from if he wanted.
It was a tough call and one he would have to think about.

[arcanus]

Raz’eal Sephiroth snapped from drunken grogginess, a rude, painful awakening that brought him face to face with a badly wounded Annett.
Slapping himself with enough force to jar him, he snarled a warning to himself
He sung a soft melody, almost a lullaby calling the very forces of the Spheres to him, however the forces resisted, he had called too much in too little time.
The forces eddied and flowed, her wound caused by almost certainly a rifle round bubbled and hissed, partially healing then almost reverting to its original state.

“DAMN NOT NOW!” he raged
“What ever we are too do sir, had better be quick, she’s strong but that s draining away” urged Samuel Brocklesbury
“I KNOW” Raz’s face was slick with sweat
Sam looked in sympathy, his extensive first aid skills had done their best, but even a Field Surgeon would struggle to sort this mess out.

“You need to calm yourself sir, concentrate”
“I KNOW, I know” he replied
‘Jobe please’ he sang in his mind, the mental note drifting
Lord Roborough shivered turning away from the stoic form of Karl Von Geller, he saw the shadows lengthen and looked perturbed, for his part the PI looked and saw nothing
A form curled off the translucent form of The Sword, in a suggestive way it wiggled past the pair, even Raz failed to see her, placing her hands upon Annetts bosom she allowed the Multiverses song to flow into her, invigorating her song.
Once done she stood curling a tantalising finger slowly around the elf’s jaw line and finally ending upon caressing the nape of his neck, even then he didn’t sense her presence no one did, until she sang
“Be careful for when you call, you will be answered”
As she vanished back to the Sword, Raz’s eyes opened wide, both he and Sam looked down to see the wound healed, Annett had not awoken and looked very ill, but never the less she wasn’t dead.

Both men just looked at each other, for the fact remained that Raz’s hands had not been upon her when recovered.

[arcanus]

Otto squinted as the three GIs spun the wheels of their borrowed sedan delivery van, throwing a cloud of grit and dust in his face, before speeding off after the army truck.

He grumbled ‘foolhardy’, his sensors flashed through routines, until he locked upon energy signatures, the attackers had trace energy signatures to them, not inherent more something they’d been exposed too.

[arcanus]

“What on Earth is it?” exclaimed Sir Reynolds
Raz had taken Annett back to her room, whilst Von Geller, Sam and Reynolds stood around the corpse of the downed attacker.
“Its an ork” replied Von Geller
“A what”
“Humanoid warrior race found on Worlds usually high in Magic” he replied, cautiously checking the corpse for possessions or identification, unsurprisingly he found none
“He’s a rather ugly brute, it is a he isn’t it?” replied the Lord
“Yep they are, and yes it is a he, also completely murderous and utterly driven by the strongest survives instinct”
“So the obvious question is what is he doing here, as he’s definitely not a native and no the irony of that statement is not lost on me”
“That’s the million dollar question” replied Von Geller

Otto trudged back into the Hotels courtyard “Taken off in a truck, your blokes are following them”
“That could end badly for them” interjected Reynolds
“They have owever left a trail which we can follow”
“A deliberate trail?” questioned Von Geller instincts flaring
“No don’t think so, something they’ve been in contact with, left its mark on them”

It was that at point that the local police arrived.

[arcanus]

Murcia, Spain - April 1945
Private Royce swerved the Sedan, a great could of dust and grit blasting over the hedgerows into the crop fields beyond.
Back on the home front Royce had been an avid Stock Car driver, learning his trade outrunning the sheriff with a trunk load of moonshine.

Narrow Spanish lanes weren’t so different from Blue Mountain back roads, that said the truck driver wasn’t holding back, woe betide anyone who happened to be out tonight.
Corporal Brooks waited with his Thompson, they’d been reluctant to fire upon the truck for fear of hitting Meldtz or the Nazi, although they all thought the same on the latter, that this was his people picking him up.

They broke onto a main road, the clear warm evening suddenly invaded by mist, the back of the truck becoming a vague outline.
“Where’d the hell this spring from” rasped Jerry Wells from the back seat
“Keep yer eyes open, nothings been regular since we landed in Berlin” said the Corp
“We’re gonna lose em, this tis gettin thicker” said Royce as he now negotiated obstacles
“Alright!” Brooks leaned out of the window, aimed the Tommy, braced and fired, the truck swerved, its tires absorbing the brunt, Royce swung the car keeping behind the truck, Wells joined in putting several rifle rounds into the same tire.
“Keep on em” bellowed Brooks, Royce did just that as the truck swerved again, in reality the rounds would have made little difference to the solid tire, but the driver was keen to avoid the unfire.

The truck accelerated into the fog, “Shit” snarled Royce as a tree suddenly appeared in front of them, he swung the car into a slide, accelerating at the last moment, the sedan bucked as her fender clipped the obstacle, tearing loose.
“Where the hell’d it go” roared Brooks
The GIs were thrown around as Royce struggled to stop the sedan swerving, regaining control each of them watched the rolling fog pass them by suspiciously.

[arcanus]

Pouppeville Beach - Normandy November 29th 1940
They had approached from the Channel under the light less cover of the New Moon, hidden within the silty dunes just beyond the waterline.

“I don’t like this” hissed Private Bremner
His squad mate a yank called Courtney merely nodded, beyond the beach, following the slope of the coastline large defensive fortifications were being constructed.
Lining the construction work were sandbag bunkers and machinegun nests.

“Stow it” hissed a voice from behind their position, both glanced back nervously to see the ominous form of Sergeant Perin, both shivered, neither had seen him move behind them.
Along the sand dune Captain Smythe checked his watch, he was a conventional soldier all this cloak and dagger business seemed divisive, but it was their means of war since Dunkirk.

He liked even less the whimsical nature of this mission, on the edge of detection by several hundred Wehrmacht Heer due to some quack reading the tea leaves.

It seemed to fit the pattern of their operations to date however, the raid on the railway at Noir Brière, their battle in Harstad and the Tavistock incident, the last one caused him to pause, their CO still fighting for his life.

“Sir” whispered Corporal Krutzvelt, who then pointed across the beach.
Smythe squinted, finally making out a figure stood in the pitch blackness of the beach, they’d been watching the beach intently and had seen no sign of anyone.
He snapped his clicker alerting the men along the line, Perin appeared beside him, Smythe nodded toward the figure who was already moving and slipped into the night.

The rest of the squad returned to watching the searchlights sweeping the sand.