This one might shit on the lore a little bit, but consider it an alternate head-cannon that I just wanted to try out.
This is set in post-W.W.2 so there will be references to the Holocaust, it is not my intention to belittle these events or offend anyone with their inclusion.
October 15th 1945
The four man team stood outside the gates of Auschwitz, the stench of death still reeked from the land for miles around, none of them wanted to be there, but they had a job to do.
Colonel Patrick Cunningham turned round to face his team, he knew his right-hand man; Captain Oliver âO.Jâ Jacobson, very well having worked with him through most of The War, but the other two he wasnât certain of. The Yank was supposed to be a recon-specialist, Bruce Taylor, here to pick up evidence for the upcoming Nuremberg Trials, and the Kraut was a Kraut, Dietrich Mongola, supposed to have defected in exchange for immunity from the Trials.
Cunningham hadnât met a Kraut yet who seemed to be genuine in their apologies, how could they even begin to apologise for what they did.
O.J. cut the lock off the gate and the four men walked inside, all of them feeling uncomfortable, as though stepping into Hallowed Grounds.
Cunningham addressed his team. âEveryone stick close, we all know why weâre here, letâs get what we came for and get out, I donât want to stay here any longer than necessary.â
Oliver eyed up Dietrich. âYou sure you know what youâre looking for?â
âJa, Herr Mengelaâs office was well known, I met him a few times here. I can find ze documents.â
Taylor laughed and slapped Mongola on the back. âI bet you can Deke, probably wrote them up yourself.â
Dietrich grimaced. âItâs Dietrich Herr Taylor.â
âYeah I ainât pronouncing that Deke, you just get us inside and do your little Kraut job.â
Cunningham considered reprimanding them both, but he needed the extra hands so he let it slide, just this once. The four men pushed forward into the Death Camp, Cunningham had seen the pictures from the first recon team when the war ended a little over a months ago, but being here now and being choked by the fog of death, it was an entirely different experience.
The team rounded a corner where they saw a mountain of shoes, easily 10 feet tall and just as wide, they all stopped and stared at it, seeing the hundred if not thousands of shoes and knowing that the owners were long dead.
O.J. wiped a tear form his eye. âMother of God.â
Taylor snorted. âThereâs not God here, no God would allow this.â
âWhoâs to say he did?â Dietrich replied.
âLeave it.â Cunningham broke in with a low voice. âWe canât do anything now, weâre here for a job, letâs do it and get out of here.â
Knowing their Colonel was right, the team pushed onwards into the main building, there was some dead Nazis that had committed suicide and left to rot alongside some mouldy, decaying food that had long been abandoned. Cunningham ignored the corpses and followed Dietrich deeper into the horror show, eventually Dietrich reached a set of stairs, one going up, one going down, and he stopped.
âThis is where ve should split up, Herr Mengeleâs office is on the second floor but zere is ein laboratory in ze basement viv his experiments.â
Taylor shook his head. âI ainât splitting up with the Kraut, fuck that, I donât trust him.â
âI donât trust you either Herr Taylor but here ve are.â
âEnough!â Cunningham yelled. âWhat kind of experiments we talking here?â
âI donât know, Here Mengele never let me see fully, but I heard voices, childrenâs voices. I believe ze doctor vas doing something viv pain thresholds.â
O.J. spat on the ground. âSick bastard.â
Cunningham nodded. âAgreed, ok O.J., you go with Mongola upstairs, see what documents you can find. Taylor with me, letâs see if we can find any survivors, if not then the evidence should help send some of these fuckers to hang.â
The team split off into two group, Cunningham and Taylor went downstairs, finding the entire basement had been converted into a laboratory, beakers of unknown liquid were spread about the place, glass vials had been smashed on the floor in the desperate attempt to escape. Worse of all, the lights were out.
Cunningham took out his torch and shone it into the room, immediately wishing he hadnât. The floor was stained with blood, dirty water and what looked like a large amount of shit.
Taylor gagged. âExplains the smell, goddamn.â
âHewwo?â
The two men froze, there was someone else in there with them, a child by the sound of their voice.
âHello, is anyone there?â
âIs dat daddeh?â
Taylor pointed to a bookself, the mysterious survivor was behind it.
âIâm not your daddy.â Cunningham called out. âBut I can help you find him.â
âHuu, daddeh nu wub Oska nu mowe.â
âItâs ok Oscar, my name is Patrick, and I can take you somewhere safe were you canâŚâ
Patrick turned the corner to the other side of the bookshelf, and what he saw was horrifying, and definitely not a child. Taylor followed close behind.
âWhat in the fuck is that?â
Before Cunninghame could answer, there was the sound of a single gunshot upstairs. The two men ignored the abomination and ran back to their comrades.
Upstairs, O.J. and Dietrich found Dr Mengeleâs office, clearly it was in much nicer shape than the rest of the run-down building, the wallpaper was lines with gold trimming and there was a solid bronze eagle bust in the corner.
âThe doctor loved his luxuries I see.â
âJa, Herr Mengele vas a man of fine tastes, itâs a shame he vas also ein madman.â
âYou shouldnât worry about Mengele, heâs gone now and weâre gonna find him. Start looking through any documents, youâll recognise whatâs important better than me.â
Dietrich nodded and started rummaging through the desk while O.J. took to the shelves, there was stacks of paper strewn about the place so all he could do was gather all of it and hope he could make sense of it later.
As he gathered the notes, O.J. found an upturned picture frame left on the shelf, he picked it up and looked the photo inside. It was Josef Mengele shaking hands with Dietrich, but the caption underneath read ;
âJosef Mengele and Wolfgang Fuchsâ
âDietrich? You wanna tell me what the fuckâŚ?â
O.J. never finished his question, he never even heard the shot that killed him, the shot fired from Dietrichâs gun.
Dietrich waited, he knew Cunningham and Taylor wouldâve heard the shot so he waited for them. Soon enough two loud sets of footsteps could he heard and both men burst through the door with their guns drawn.
Cunningham looked at Dietrich, then at O.J.âs corpse, then back at Dietrich, trying to process what he was looking at. He aimed his gun at the murderous bastard, Taylor did the same while Dietrich aimed his at Cunningham.
âStart talking. NOW.â
âI had my reasons.â
âThey best be good fucking reasons for you to kill Jacobson like that.â
âFick dich.â
âI knew it.â Taylor yelled. âI knew you couldnât trust the Kraut fuck, letâs just kill him and get it over with.â
âYou vant to try me Yankee, fucking try me.â
âENOUGH.â Cunningham yelled, trying to keep things under control. âWeâve got you outnumbered Mongola, put the gun down and we can all get out of here alive.â
Cunningham noticed Taylor shifting position in the corner of his eye. âWell⌠not all of us.â
âWhat are youâŚ?â
BANG
The last thing Cunningham saw was the flash from the bullet that kill him, Taylor shot him right in the face, instantly ending the Colonelâs life.
Dietrich looked on in shock, his gun now shaking in his hand, he tried to aim it at Taylor but couldnât keep the thing steady enough. Taylor though paid no attention to Dietrich, he calmly put his pistol back in its holster and smiled at him.
âNow then, letâs talk.â
This was originally one chapter story, and I had it all written up and ready to go, but then a fuck up on my end meant that I was only able to save half of it. So hereâs the first half, Iâll get the rest up once I stop hitting myself for being such a dumbass.
it runs in their family I see.
except for the farmer yeah most are damn fuck up.