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By Matthew Jack

The year is 2067. Freedom and prosperity were now nothing but the fantasy of the hopeful. After

the Ukrainian-Russian War of 2049, where Ukraine won their independence with the help of the

USA, Russia captured, tortured, and executed 19 American diplomats. Russia was hit with fire

and fury through the force of the USA’s hydrogen bombs. Russia, of course, struck back with

equal force, and a dreaded WWIII began. All countries were forced to participate, and those that

refused were sieged and ravaged. People were taken as slaves and forced to fight, or serve other

twisted and maniacal purposes. The dominant beings of Earth had devolved into savages, and the

restoration of their home was impossible. But they never cared. Only victory and glory acted as

the foundations of these people’s murderous rampages. The war has only raged on to this day,

with Russia seeming to be in the lead. Even though there would be nothing to hold as a trophy,

save for the cities of corpses that now lay the land, the fire that burned everything humans had

stood for, the smoke that engulfed them in their own bloodlust. There was a time when people

only fought to achieve peace. And that is now a time long passed. Well, one new soldier would

attempt to bring that back, to bring peace back to the world. And he would do it in the only

language the savages spoke.

“U.S.I.E.T.! Report to the barracks!”

The general’s voice boomed over the intercom, signaling the fighters to slog towards their

destination. Our hero, Kampfer, was among them. He was now a member of U.S.I.E.T., the

United States Infiltration and Evaluation Team, but now with the stakes rising for the U.S., they
were essentially the U.S. Infiltration and Demolition Team. But U.S.I.D.T. didn’t roll off the

tongue. Kampfer stood amongst this team, watching them as they mindlessly stared at their

leader for orders. Like drones, they saluted him, and lowered their hands when he gave the call.

How it pains me to lower myself to being a man’s tool, Kampfer thought to himself. The

general’s name was Verzweifelt, and he had very important news for the team.

“Team, we have a new member with us today. Kampfer is one of the new privates shipped in a

few months ago.”

A man, who would soon be revealed to Kampfer as Apsudzet, seemed to protest such an action.

“One of the privates? Verzweifelt, you must be delusional. What makes this runt so special?”

Verzweifelt responded in a harsh tone. “He was the very best of the new recruits, a valedictorian

if you will. Quickest and most lethal in target practice, with good endurance and strength. Best

part, he never talks. He won’t complain like all of you,” the commander said, addressing all the

soldiers now.

U.S.I.E.T. was a small special team, only made of 25 soldiers, 35 at most. Each of them seemed

to be very different from one another, but at the same time, they were like clones, goons that

served no purpose but to follow their master. Homes must not be the only thing war destroys,

Kampfer thought to himself. Apsudzet and a few others seemed to be protesting Kampfer’s

recruitment, but the others remained quiet. Kampfer wondered if he intimidated them into
silence. And if you asked the silent soldiers, Kampfer would have been correct. Some were

scared by Kampfer’s figure alone, but others would’ve described Kampfer as somehow

emanating a gas of hostility that put everyone on edge. Even the loud ones felt this “gas” during

Kampfer’s tour of the base. This should have been a warning to the soldiers of their impending

fate. But, as the dumb soldiers they were, Kampfer added, they blamed it on the breakfast. Oh

well. Call it cliche, but U.S.I.E.T. would see the error of their ways soon enough.


Night soon fell over the troubled soldiers. Even more troubled by the fact Kampfer decided to

stay awake. Unlike archetypal “evildoers” who would spend their spare time planning their

schemes, Kampfer reflected on what had led him up to this moment. Reflected on what had

driven him to this. Only a few years ago, the Totalitarian was invented. A revolution of weapon

technology. A missile that could be launched from halfway across the world that split into seven

equally powerful missiles and rained hellfire down on its targets. Even after an American

splinter group got their hands on a Totalitarian, and launched it into the heart of Chicago, the

U.S. kept producing the weapon, making no statement on the 2,000 that died from the missile.

And the worst thing is, only one of the seven split missiles landed in Chicago. The others were all

taken care of by anti-aircraft guns. Imagine the damage if all seven hit... I was driving back to

Chicago from a dysfunctional family reunion when the missile hit. It didn’t even phase me that

my home was destroyed, that my coworkers, potential friends, potential lovers, were all ash. I

wasn’t attached to any of them. It was simply the knowledge that humanity could create and use

a weapon of such destruction, then not care about the losses caused by the destruction, not

respect the dead and lay them to rest… that sickened my stomach. It wasn’t even on the news, the

reporters only acted exuberant as they discussed the development of Snake Oil 490, a gas
somehow capable of making a human’s lungs shrivel and wilt within seconds. I keep reminding

myself of that moment, the moment I realized humanity would never improve by their own

accord. No, they would need outside influence. And at that moment, at that very moment, I

became truly dedicated to being that influence.


The red lights nearly blinded Kampfer, but he still managed to survive the onslaught to his

senses. The soldiers sat silently in the roaring plane, being carted to the battlefield like cows to

the slaughter. The only difference is that their death would be more drawn out than a bolt gun to

the head. A few minutes after take off, Apsudzet decided to be the loud one again. His sweat

made him glisten on the coal black of the plane interior.

“Alright Commander, what’s the plan?” Apsudzet inquired.

Verzweifelt explained that Yukanna, the infantry captain, would lead her troops around the

Russian base, taking down guards as they go. Gefeierlech, the captain of the scouts, would

distract the enemy soldiers coming out of the airlock by throwing projectiles. Verzweifelt would

lead his team through the airlock once Yukanna and Gefeierlech lured the soldiers away. Their

objective: plant C4 explosive on the nuclear reactors and the fuel tanks, blowing up the base

from inside. Hopefully, they would escape before the explosion. The soldiers grunted in approval

of the plan.

“Commander,” said a woman named Giuptoi, “the snipers will alert our presence to the entire

base, if they don’t gun us down first.”
The awfully insightful soldier had a thin, sleek body with a small head. Her hair went down her

neck, and she determined eyes that pierced one’s soul. A seemingly perfect figure for a sniper.

“Don’t worry, Giuptoi,” the commander said. “You and Kampfer will sneak around the base and

kill them for us. You can make sniper nests out of the snow.”

Giuptoi looked hesitant as she turned toward the new recruit. “You good with a M241?”

Kampfer only offered a nod as he prepared his rifle. So well polished and cared for, it was almost

unsettling. It was like a childhood antique to him. Something he really cared about.

“Everyone got their orders?” Verzweifelt asked.

“Yes, Commander Verzweifelt!” the soldiers responded.

The team shouted their leader’s name with such pride, such vailance, such loyalty. Victory was

surely in their grasp. The plane landed on the ground, and they were ready.

“Let the blood flow, men.” And flow it will.


“What have you done to him, нарушитель2!” cried the mother.

An outdated sniper rifle. Most soldiers used the new XM2010 by now, but it seems Giuptoi and Kampfer
stuck with what they knew.
“Get off of me woman!” the invader retorted.

“I won’t let you hurt him! You've already killed my husband! I won’t let you hurt my baby!”

“It’s too late traitor!” another invader boomed as he fired his gun, killing the woman.


After Zielig, the pilot of the carrier plane, flew back to base, the soldiers turned to their

destination. The Russian base was massive, but nothing different than what they’ve seen before.

A beautiful white snow lined the ground, untouched by any human. There was no breeze, and the

only sound that could be heard was the men’s breath. As the bleak sun rose on the horizon, the

soldiers were almost driven to tears by the serenity of the scene. They had only seen dark clouds

and rain before now. The last battle the soldiers experienced was The Battle of Slautnoye, the

final showdown in the Bering Sea Skirmishes, Kampfer thought to himself. The clouds had been

a stark black, raining down on the trenches below. It was your standard battle until a Russian

tank mowed down the barbed wire surrounding the trenches, allowing the Russians to storm the

U.S. trenches. Soldiers were forced to run out onto the barbed wire, and shoot down opposing

soldiers with their bloodied feet. Rumour has it when Russians got into the trenches, they used

circular saws to mow down those trying to escape. It was raining blood. Machine gun fire

assaulted the eardrums of anyone that dared to listen. The soldiers screamed in rage as they fired

at the enemy with everything they could. Some still had their assault rifles. Other picked up the

Russian circular saws and charged into battle like gladiators. Then a Russian soldier set off a

minefield, beginning a chain of explosions decimating those around him. In an act of rage, the
Russian for intruder.
Russian general ordered a chemical bombing of the battlefield. And to explain what happened

after, would only be a waste of time. The memory of the day lingers in these troops’ minds,

remembering their allies falling like insects, remembering the tears, sweat, and blood that lined

their weapons, the entrails that splattered the psychotic visages of the monsters storming the

trenches. And yet they still fight. Confusing, isn’t it? Nonetheless, U.S.I.E.T. was touched by the

scene before them, but were quickly reminded of their goal by Verzweifelt. Kampfer and Giuptoi

rushed to the base, and were ready to kill.


“What do we do with the kid?” the invader asked.

“I don’t know, man. But he’s creepin’ me out. We murdered both his folks and he hasn’t moved

an inch,” the other invader stated.

“Heh, maybe’s he only moved a centimeter. Hey kid!”

The child had no reply.

The invader called again. “Kid!”

The child said nothing.

“Alright, that’s enough. Dude, give me the gun.”
“AAAAGH!” the invader cried as he was shot.

“What the hell, kid?! What kinda maniac are- AUGH!” the other invader cried. He was shot as


“Dude, he’s got the gun! HE’S GOT THE GUN!”

“Kid, please put that down. Please - PLEASE!”

The intruders received no mercy as they were killed.


“So, how much practice you had with the rifle?” Giuptoi asked.

Kampfer only rushed to build their nest. His hands speedily pushed snow into a large clump, sat

down, and prepared himself. It was… superhumanly? Giuptoi didn’t have a good word for it.

“Ok then,” Giuptoi murmured.

Giuptoi quickly got into position alongside Kampfer. The first thing she noticed was how much

of a… presence Kampfer had. He was big, strong, muscular. It’d be any women’s dream to have

that body to herself. But something wasn’t right. Like earlier, there was an air of hostility that he

produced. She didn’t feel safe around him. And what he did next didn’t help either.
“Stop hesitating.”

Kampfer spoke. Not once had he even seemed to breath when they first met, and now he spoke.

His voice was so low and intimidating, the base of it shook the snow around them. She looked up

at Kampfer. Six foot four inches, extremely muscular, scar across his cheek, and eyes filled with

nothing. Giuptoi, seeing Kampfer in his entirety, now truly felt the onset of fear that she had only

been given a taste of earlier. He wasn’t even her enemy, but yet she stayed frozen like a deer

stuck in headlights.

“Shoot!” Kampfer commanded.

She was too afraid to do anything else. One by one, the enemy snipers fell. It was surprisingly

easy to get rid of them, but she knew why. As they moved to the other side of the base, she got a

look at Kampfer’s lightning fast reload speed. It was miraculous how perfect Kampfer was for

war. As Giuptoi grabbed her walkie-talkie, she shook in fear of what might happen to her.

“Commander, i-i-it’s safe to go through n-now,” Giuptoi stuttered.

“Understood. Meet up with Yukanna and her team when they approach. Over and out.”

Giuptoi looked up at her partner. He was staring up at the sniper nests. He analyzed them

vigorously, as if he was making sure every single one was dead. But unfortunately, it did not

seem he wanted to assure the safe passage of his fellow soldiers.
“So, d-did you hear the commander? We’re meeting up with - hkk!”

Giuptoi’s speech was cut off by the latching of her neck. In a mere second, it felt like it was


“What…K-Kampfer...PLEA-hmm!” she tried to scream as she was forced to the ground with her

mouth covered. Kampfer unsheathed his pocket knife, and brandished it like a trophy.

“Let me go… please… oh lord...” Giuptoi pleaded in her muffled speech.

One slice across the neck and she was done for. Easier than I thought, Kampfer said to himself.

He shot into the air with his now unsilenced rifle. The team would think he ran from a sniper

who shot at him, when truly, he was just fine; ready to start the next phase of his plan.


“Come on then, weakling! Why don’t you fight me?” the bully cried out. It was lunchtime in

Kampfer’s school. The basketball court was open, and spectators gathered around for their


“Zanker! Zanker! Zanker!” The children cried out in anticipation for the new contestants. The

strongest kid in the school versus the most… they couldn’t think of any ways to describe the

other child. They didn’t even know his name.
“I’m about to throw a punch! You gonna get out of the way? Huh? Hu - AGGHHHH!!!!!!!”

Zanker’s eye was in the clutches of two dirtied and sharp fingernails.

“Somebody help him!” an observer cried. He was too scared to do it himself.

“AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!” The child had Zanker’s eye in his possession.

Horrifying. That’s a good way to describe the child.


“Kampfer! Do you copy? Are you ok?” Apsudzet cried over his walkie-talkie.

He was usually a silent man, but this time, Kampfer had to resist the urge to reply, to say

something utterly cunning. I’m okay, but soon enough, you bastards won’t be. Kampfer decided

it would need a little work. Back to the task at hand. Kampfer had no idea where he was going,

but, as if God himself allowed it, Kampfer managed to sneak past all the patrolling soldiers, and

mosey on into the armory. Smells like home, Kampfer thought to himself with a smirk. Weapon

racks lined almost every inch of the walls, and the ammo crates touched the sky in their

warmongering glory. The warehouse had a butter yellow tint, and the steel roof above was as

brown as tree bark. In its own sadistic way, this room is magnificent. At that time, many would

have agreed with him. If only I could tour the airlock. Other contraptions of war laid strewn

about the place. FGM-148 Javelins, M2.50s, Patriot PAC-3s3, and in the very back, containers of

Snake 490. No, he thought. Kampfer was glad he was here to end these atrocities. He slipped

An anti-tank rocket launcher, a machine gun turret, and an air-defense guided missile system,
some stolen C4 explosive out of his backpack, and promptly input a time of 1 minute. Time to

get out of here. And so he did.


“Hey doofus, go back to your place in line!” The shopper was having a bad day.

“Can’t you hear me, you… wait… everyone, he’s got a gun!”

“EVERYONE, GET DOWN!” another shopper cried out.

The shopper’s bad day had become much worse.


As Kampfer escaped from the armory, now reduced to dust, Verzweifelt and his team were

planting C4 explosive on the base’s nuclear reactor. The explosion was unexpected.

“What was that?!” Apsudzet shrieked.

“It don’t matter!” Verzweifelt boomed. “C4’s been planted. Anything that happens now is just a

good distraction.”

“Agreed,” Yukanna pitched in via walkie talkie. “Even better, all the guards rushed to the

explosion. Bad news is, Geiferlech’s team is right on the path to get blasted!”
“You hear that, Geiferlech? Stay away from the armory!” Verzweifelt cried out with utter


No matter his mission, Verzweifelt had always held the lives of his men at the highest

importance. But, did he really care? Had there been so many deaths he’d experienced that this

one would have no effect? Had he been desensitized to the death of another human being? As the

walkie-talkie uttered only static, he feared the only humane part of him, the only part that didn’t

want to slaughter other humans, had left a long time ago.

“Damn it!” The commander had lost his fastest soldier. Able to summon enough emotion to

seem affected by the loss of Geiferlech, he ordered his team to keep moving, hoping his loss of

compassion would not come back to bite him.


Kampfer had reached the door controls. To his surprise, they were in the same room as the

concessions. Similar to a teacher’s lounge, the floor was a green carpet, with white walls and a

white ceiling. Kampfer was so intrigued. The button to activate a lockdown was right next to an

open refrigerator. In the left corner of the room was a standard kitchen, with a sink, dishwasher,

microwave, toaster, even a small oven. A couch stood on the left side of the room, and the neon

of a vending machine lit the dark place. To the right laid a control panel, consisting of multiple

buttons and one camera screen. Seemingly, each button closed a specific door, and the camera

screen showed… all the different doors. But, then why did they not set off the alarm when I

entered? Kampfer’s silent question was soon answered as he looked at the table in front of him,
and realized what looked to be a pile of rubble was a human. A Russian soldier, drunkenly

holding a bottle of vodka.

“Oy… you… there…” The soldier was attempting to talk to Kampfer.

“Why did you not alert the base when I came in?” Kampfer inquired.

“What… did you wanna be detected?” The soldier’s voice had become normal again. “I saw the

blood on your face. The only way you could’ve gotten into the base was through the snipers, and

considering no ground troops detected you, and the snipers did not alert the base to you, so I

knew the only way the blood could’ve gotten there -”

“- is if I killed one of my own. How insightful,” Kampfer said, realizing he finally found

someone else who understood.

“Whatever you came here to do,” the Russian said in a grave tone, “I knew that I could never

stop it. When I saw you come through the door, I saw the determination in your eyes. I saw the

fire in your heart. I saw the rage in your fists. And as such, I gave up. There would be no

winning against you.”

“I wish I could spare you my friend,” Kampfer said with a hint of disappointment. “But… I’m

afraid that will not do.”
“Ah. A genocider. Well, do not let me impede your conquest, my friend. Best of wishes,” the

Russian said with a slight giggle. He really had given up.

As Kampfer initiated the lockdown, and alarms began to blare throughout the base, he said only

this to the defeated Russian soldier: “Not a genocider. A purifier.”

As Kampfer left the room, he barely heard the Russian’s retort.

“I’m sure you believe that, my friend. But that doesn’t mean it’s true.” The soldier may have had

a point.


“Commander, the base is on lockdown! There’s no way to get out!” Yukanna shrieked as alarms

rang throughout the base.

Verzweifelt replied with a roar. “We’ll blow our way out! SHUT UP!”

Yukanna was speechless. She’d never heard Verzweifelt this pissed off, this deranged. Not even

after the Nikolskoye Offensive4. His anger wasn’t even coming out the right way; it made no

sense. Yukanna didn’t have much time to dwell on her confusion, as the nuclear reactor C4 was

set off, taking Yukanna’s team out of the equation. She died with a deep yell.

“Yukanna!” The commander had lost his most valiant soldier. He barely felt a semblance of

sadness now.
A siege on a Russian island base. The air force was so incompetent that Verzweifelt lost it.
“Commander, keep moving! Everyone is dead if we don’t get out of here!” Apsudzet reminded

his commander.

Verzweifelt had to compose himself. “Right, Apsudzet. EVERYBODY, IT’S TIME TO GO!”

The troops had just planted the C4 explosive on the fuel tanks. They fled, running for their lives

as if a fire started to spread. The smoke was thick, and the metal of the floors felt like it was

decomposing. Everything was falling apart, but a sliver of happiness materialized in

Verzweifelt’s soul. Victory was now a possibility.

“Wait, it’s Kampfer. Kampfer, you’re alive!”

With Apsudzet’s excited realization, that possibility had just disappeared. And Verzweifelt knew

it. Kampfer’s pistol fired, and Apsudzet fell. The commander had lost his strongest soldier. He

felt even less emotion than before.

“Kampfer, what is the meaning of this?!” Verzweifelt interrogated.

“Oh, Verzweifelt, drop the act. You knew this would happen all along,” Kampfer said with utter

“I know,” Verzweifelt replied, “and I truly wish I didn’t.” His face had become old and weary, as

if everything that he’d done caught up to him in that instant.

“Commander, what’s he talking about?” A soldier named Zarlivy was desperate for answers.

“Commander,” Kampfer said in a mocking tone, “why don’t you tell them the truth? Tell them

about my criminal record. Tell them everything.”

“I… I…” A pathetic defense, Commander. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

Verzweifelt said in a grave tone.

“What a horrible liar you are. Tell your troops the truth, and you will be preserved,” Kampfer

taunted as he pointed his firearm at Verweifelt’s head.

“N...n...never,” the commander insisted, losing the little determination he had. So be it, Kampfer


Bang, went Kampfer’s gun. The commander had lost himself, and felt nothing.

“VERZWEIFELT!” Zarlivy cried. “I’ll kill you, bastard!”

“Try your best,” Kampfer purred. “It’s high time you soldiers get what you deserve.”

“The murders of two American spies, a jock with his eye ripped out, and a shot up store with at

34 casualties. This is some record.”

The captive stayed silent.

“So, you won’t talk?”

The captive remained silent.

“What’s all this for?”

The captive’s lips didn’t move.

“So much death and violence in your life. Why?”

The captive still refused to answer.

“Answer me.”

“To get your attention,” the captive uttered.

“Those first two murders. They were sent to kill my parents. Momma and Pappa worked for the


“So it’s a vendetta against America?”

“No. A vendetta against war. A vendetta against hate. A vendetta against violence and death. My

parents were not in the right, but neither were the assassins. Everyone deserves to repent.”

“Ending war by fueling it? Ending death by causing it? Ending violence by partaking in it


“The only way to end war is to end the people that cause it.”

“ have me there.” The commander was defeated.

The captive let out a loud laugh.

“What is it?” the commander asked.

“You’re desperate enough to recruit me. You’re losing, aren’t you? And you need to make a

power play to show you’re not really losing, don’t you? Even though you know my initiative will

ruin everything?”
Now the commander had nothing to say.

“It seems everything has fallen into place for me,” the captive uttered with a grin.

“Goddammit, I’m gonna regret this. I’m Commander Verzweifelt, and I lead a little thing called


“The name’s Kampfer. And you’ve just made a horrible mistake.”

“Well, Kampfer, it’s times like this... I’m happy I stopped caring,” the commander said with a

guilty smile.


Zarlivy threw the first punch. As you would expect, Kampfer wasn’t even phased. Zarlivy’s fists

flew like missiles at Kampfer’s face. So eager to get revenge. Pitiful. Zarlivy was struck straight

in the stomach and was sent straight through the burning hall. Kampfer caught up to him.

“I knew I could never trust you, Kampfer,” Zarlivy growled.

The opposites grappled.

“Oh Zarlivy, aren’t you just jealous that I was decided to be a better fighter? Is that truly how

shallow you are?”
Fires burned in Zarlivy’s eyes as he took his pocket knife and stabbed Kampfer in the stomach.

“Ooagh!” Kampfer felt physical pain. It’d been a while since he felt such a thing. “Heh. Got you

down to a tee, huh?”

“You’re not all-powerful, Kampfer. Get over yourself,” Zarlivy said, finally feeling the

dominance he’d wanted all his life.

Kampfer only made a confident grin and tore the knife from his bowels. He lunged forward, and

gave his rebuttal.

“You speak nonsense, my fellow soldier. I am in no way invincible -”

“SHAKH!” Zarlivy exclaimed as he was stabbed in his heart.

“- but you are much less so.”

Zarlivy’s shocked face drained of life as his body fell to the ground, his blood only spreading

more. The other soldiers got into fighting position, ready to attack. How endearing. The soldiers’

combined rage and valiance comes against me. They believe that their combined cause can

defeat me, the big baddie, the overwhelming evil that will be vanquished, and bring light to

everyone’s life. So engulfed in their supposed power, they do not realize the atrocities they have

committed. They do not realize that I am the protagonist of this story. They think will get a happy
ever after, because they believe in themselves. What дураки5. Kampfer expected more. More

from the people who had ruined everything humanity stood for. More from those who doomed

this Earth to a blazing hell.

“Come at me, you savages!” Kampfer roared at his opponents.

The slashes and stabs of violence’s antithesis were greeted with the fists and screams of these

enraged slaves. The screams of the Russian soldiers as they were burned by the spreading fire

was unmatched by the slaughter of U.S.I.E.T. at the hands of their new recruit. The Russians

were confused. Was this a betrayal? Espionage? Wrong. This was revenge. This was the

solution. This was a mission. And Kampfer had just taken his first step to making the demons


“Time to move on,” the psychopath said with arrogance and superiority.

Kampfer bent over to the shambling door and turned the doorknob. But miraculously, someone

spoke to him. Verzweifelt.

“Before you go. Soldier.”

“Yes, my ‘commander’?” Kampfer teased.

Russian for fools.
“I always understood why you killed the American agents and ripped that boy’s eye out. But

why’d you shoot up the store?”

Kampfer’s face turned grave. All the confidence from his successful fight drained. No one had

ever seen such a megalomaniac have emotions. It was relieving and horrifying at the same time.

“That day, the U.S. won the Battle of Anchorage. The people in the store were all American.

Save for one. One Russian. Everyone was at the TV, cheering at the bloody slaughter of people

who were... only fighting because they were ordered to,” Kampfer said in a slightly sentimental

tone. “The Russian walked away, but one of the Americans saw him. Realizing he was a Russian

sympathizer, the abhorrent Americans charged at him. They pummelled the poor man and beat

him to a pulp. The pale-skinned bastards screamed slurs at him as their fists flew, taunting him

for just being loyal to his race. And he died. An innocent man who did nothing more than walk

away from a TV in a market, was beat to death by people that didn’t even know him.” A pause.

“I felt nothing but satisfaction as I gunned them down.”

“I understand now,” Verzweifelt said. “You aren’t just a sadist that wants to kill people.”

Kampfer looked at his friend with hesitation. “I’m worried I have already become such a


As the C4 reached 10 seconds, and Kampfer left the base, Verzweifelt replied. “Comrade... I fear

the same for myself.”
Zielig? It’s Prachand. We need a way out of here!

Zielig! Yukanna and Gefei----down! Get us out of-----



“Shut up!”

Even after his fellow soldiers screamed for help through the intercom, Zielig abandoned his

team. He shouldn’t have. Hey, look at that rope over there. You always liked taking the easy way



He sat in his derelict apartment, a one-roomer with a 10-inch TV, a small and cracked up

bathroom, a dirty twin-sized bed, and a moldy kitchen. 8 legged demons hung all around Zielig

on the tearing and faded wallpaper.

You didn’t have the guts to go up against one man. ONE man. You had miniguns and ballistic

missiles at your disposal, and you decided to flee.

You coward.

Can’t. Stop. Running. Away.

You can’t even surpass the spiders in the kitchen.

Coward Coward Coward Coward Coward Coward Coward Coward Coward Coward Coward

“I told you to go away.”

So you can get rid the only brave part of yourself? Just because I have the balls to question what

you do? Because I’m the only part of you that isn’t a Schwächling6?

You Abandoned Them You Abandoned Them You Abandoned Them You Abandoned Them

Changing yourself is hard. But when it comes to the murder of everyone that held a semblance of

love for you, you need to man up.


You what? You what? Huh? Huh? Are you finally going to -

German for weakling.
Bang. Direct hit on a recluse.

“I hate spiders.”

Goddamn right.