Senior Assault Leader Käfer- the phantom who ignited Max’s recent suspicions of the SS, had taken the full force of the blow without any attempt at evasion. A ghastly wound now opened his torso from left shoulder to middle stomach, as thick, red-orange pulp flowed like honey from a stricken hive.
“You know, I was just thinking it’s been a while since I got to knock someone’s teeth down their throat. And, honestly, those big buck-chompers make a pretty damned tempting target.”
Johanna ducked down, a million thoughts rushing through her head. Her comrade was bleeding out in an alleyway and she was surrounded. Beyond that, if durability alone was any indication, the man standing before her with an axe burrowed in his chest was likely on a completely different level.
“What’s the matter, mousey? You seem scared,” Käfer taunted, rocking the haft back and forth in his grip. “I like it. Try to keep that look on your face while I turn you into roadkill.”
Even in his injured state, the pressure Käfer exerted against her weapon made it quite clear to Johanna that he still posed an immense threat. This was to be the justification for a drastic gambit she was about to undertake.
Käfer leaned down closer to the girl’s face, exuding a smothering invisible aura. “Quiet, huh? You run up, hack me apart, and can't even say 'sorry’?”
“Sorry, Kibo…” murmured the girl, barely audible. “I know this thing means a lot to you…”
“Huh? What was that?” Käfer inquired with a raised eyebrow. “Speak up, you dumb bitch.”
In a sudden burst of agility, Johanna executed a reverse hand-spring, putting a few meters between herself and the mysterious SS officer. During the maneuver, she slid her tail along the axe’s haft, ultimately leaving it curled around a thin glass protrusion at the end of its handle.
Then, as a look of anxious resolve flashed across her face, the scrappy Communist rebel cried out “Shatter with the glass! Prince Rupert’s Detonation!”
“Give it a re-”
Käfer’s dismissive taunt was brought to an abrupt end as Johanna flicked the tip of her tail, snapping the glass protrusion and causing a chain reaction that immediately released the full tension of the axe’s crystalline structure, causing it to burst in an instant. The resulting explosion was so powerful that it shattered windows on either side of the street, and shredded car tires within a fifteen-meter radius. Johanna herself was thrown backward by the shockwave, tumbling a fair distance until she came to a stop at Sturm’s feet, clothing shredded and body bloodied. Her injuries, however, paled in comparison to those sustained by Kafer at the epicenter of the blast.
Having shielded his eyes in reaction to the last-ditched attack, Sturm lowered his forearm and took in the carnage before him. Käfer, having had the glass axe explode within his ribcage, was maimed beyond recognition. The left half of his torso had been forced away from his spine, and his ribs had opened and pushed through his flesh like a twisted crimson bloom. Most horrific of all, Käfer had nearly been decapitated by the detonation, and his head now hung against his chest by a few short sinews and loose flaps of skin. Despite all of this, his body remained standing amidst a pink slush of glass-ridden meat and splintered bone.
“My God…” gasped Sturm, turning to his sickened and wide-eyed teammate. “The axe... It was a bomb the whole time?”
“She… k-killed him?!” Max sputtered, struggling to comprehend what he had just witnessed. “No way…”
Recovering from the macabre experience, Sturm dropped to check for Johanna’s pulse. “Unconscious… but alive. Go get help, Max. I’ll wait here.”
“Uh… right,” replied Max with a hesitant nod, “Got it.”
The boy then turned and braced himself for a sprint but stopped short when a vile gurgling began to build up behind him. When Max glanced back over his shoulder, he was met with a development so disturbing that he was left speechless. The pulsing chunks of flesh that coated the ground had sprouted hundreds of tiny tendrils and now dragged themselves back toward their origin- the gaping, hollow cavity of Käfer’s annihilated torso.
“S-Sturm?” Max barely managed to choke out. “Do something!”
“What the hell do you want me to do?!” the swordsman spat back, holding his blade defensively.
After climbing up Käfer’s legs, the clumps of organ and muscle packed into his open wounds and melted into a necrotic soup before solidifying and taking on the appearance of the surrounding biological material. In just a few short moments, the SS officer’s body had been entirely rebuilt, save for his stripped, swinging skull.
Looking on, Sturm prepared himself for the worst. “Max, you’re sure this guy isn’t on our side, right?”
“I-I don’t know,” answered Max. “He didn’t seem like it before- he was a complete asshole!”
“An asshole or an enemy, Max?! We don’t have time for this!”
“He came at me that night! A-an enemy, he’s an enemy!” the boy frantically resolved.
Then, a raspy, strained voice spoke up. “Only if you want me to me, motherfucker.”
Both Sturm and Max slowly panned their heads from each other back over to Käfer, where they found his hanging head grinning widely. Then, the officer lifted his right hand and pushed his blood-soaked skull back atop his shoulders. Soon, an epidermis crept back across Käfer’s skinned cranium, replacing his usual facial features with something similar, though not an exact recreation of his original appearance.
“Who are you…?” asked Max, frozen in fear.
“What are you?” added Sturm, brow furrowed.
Käfer cracked his neck from one side to the other and stretched his left shoulder until it let out a resounding pop. “An exceptional, what else? You need your fucking eyes checked?”
“There are no exceptionals in the SS!” snapped Sturm. “Tell me what you really are!”
The smile slipped from Käfer’s face. “Making demands when you’re too afraid to move? That’s rich.”
“We’re here under the authority of the Iron Knight Academy! You have to answer us!” pressed Sturm, steeling himself despite the mounting dread in his stomach.
Käfer spit a glass shard onto the pavement and sighed deeply. “Big shot, eh? Look kid, you caught me in a good mood so I’ll give you dumbasses a break. I’m going to take the red and you’re going to go report to your commanding officer that she’s been brought in for interrogation by Senior Assault Leader Kafer…”
Tilting his head in confusion, Max exclaimed, “Why can’t you wait for Major General Dietrich?!”
“Who?” groaned Käfer. “Do yourself a favor and shut your stupid-ass mouth. You’re interfering with Gestapo business.”
Gestapo? Sturm reflected internally, eyes narrowing.
“Anyway, you can’t have her!” Max shouted defiantly. “We caught her! All you did was eat an axe!”
“What, you want me to do more?” scoffed Käfer, clutching his fists.
“Where are you going to take her?” Sturm interrupted, attempting to avoid an altercation. “Under whose orders?”
Käfer rolled his eyes. “Wherever I want and under my fucking own. You’re looking at another level, here. Get that through your thick skull before I have to beat it through.”
“Don’t do it, Sturm. If we give her to the Gestapo, they’ll kill her and we’ll never find out anything,” Max warned.
Try as he might to handle the situation professionally, deep down, Sturm knew his friend was right. The knight candidates had not been briefed of any Gestapo collaboration on this mission, and given Käfer’s enigmatic background and evasive nature, it was clear to the boys that all was not as it seemed.
In the midst of contemplation, Sturm suddenly caught a glimpse of a particularly telling detail. “Wait… Senior Assault Leader Käfer, is that correct?”
“And you better not forget it,” growled Käfer through a snarling beam.
Sturm knelt down and retrieved a small piece of cloth from the ground before displaying it between his fingers in Käfer’s direction. “Four pips, two stripes. Doesn't that make you a senior assault unit leader?”
Käfer skirted the question, instead reiterating his original demand as he started toward the torpid Johanna. “I’m taking the little Commie whore now. Stand aside, that’s the last time I’m going to fucking warn you.”
“Why doesn’t your heart beat?!” cried Max, pointing a claw in the officer’s direction. “Exceptionals are still human!”
Surprised that Max had confronted Käfer so recklessly, Sturm shot him a disapproving glare. “Not now, Max!”
“You don't know what you're talking about,” said Käfer, stopping in place. “Quit running your mouth before it gets you in trouble.”
“Bullshit!” Max hollered, standing firm. “Whatever you are, you’re definitely not a human!”
Closing his eyes, Käfer exhaled and scratched behind his ear. “I was going to let you off today, but you brats ask too many questions. Guess you have to disappear, now.”
Sweat formed along Max’s forehead as the terrifying realization set in that he’d likely have to battle the man who haunted his daydreams once more. Brief as their last confrontation had been, one thing was left abundantly clear:
Whatever his true origin was, the entity known as Assault Leader Käfer was in a different league altogether.
ns 15.158.61.48da2
