Invasion Wars 1: Crimes of War Page 2

  His bare feet pounded away on the cold floor as he sprinted around the corner. He didn’t know where he was going to go, but it was his only chance to escape. Nobody else made it out alive and he wasn’t willing to join the others. From behind, there was the sound of a dreadful pop. Hooks flew through the air, attached to the top end of the guard's baton. Finding their way into Emich’s back, he felt the cold metal dig into his skin.

  With a quick twist, he tore one of them out, but the other one stayed in. Unable to grab it and pull it out, he watched as the guard pressed the button on the handle. Emich’s body stiffened from the effect of the high powered taser, his hands burning because of the metal they were encased in. Falling to the ground, he was greeted by two guards who were ready to return the favor. The kicks he received to the gut and back stopped hurting after he coughed up a little blood. Panting heavily after they had their fun, the guards lifted him off the ground, holding him up by the shoulders.

  The bald agent grabbed Emich by his square jaw, lifting his head up for him. He would have pulled him by the hair if they didn’t buzz it off in his sleep every week, tranquilizing him as they did. The glass to the left eye of his spectacles were cracked, the agent taking them off and tossing them aside. Emich’s own vision was growing blurry, the pain from his bruised ribs making it hard to concentrate on anything around him. Blood slowly dripped off the side of his lip as the old man’s scowl grew wider.

  “Try that again and I’ll make sure you never run or walk again. Is that understood?”

  Emich nodded weakly, not having the strength to talk.

  “Good.” The agent tossed the inmate’s head to the side and motioned for the guards to continue dragging him further into the facility.

  He didn’t know why he tried to run. Something told him it was a good idea, until the thoughts started to speak more reason than anything. Where would he run to? Where is this place, to begin with? They could be in the middle of the ocean or on the moon for all he knew. There were bases there, that’s for sure. Why not a facility meant to be hidden away from the public eye?

  The next area was less of a blinding white and more of a gloomy grey. Color coded lines along the walls directed the staff to different directions. The way they were going was guided by the red line, the most threatening looking one in Emich’s mind. The concrete walls felt like they were traveling through a bunker, with all of the machinery they passed by making it more like a hospital. The screams were ones from an insane asylum.

  White clad staff members hurried by with a trolley, the person on it hidden in a black bag. One of the researchers stood at a locked door and typed up something on his wrist screen. Looking back up to the small window, a jet of blood splashed against the glass, making him flinch. Grumbling to himself, he swiped the screen aside and deleted whatever he recorded. Another room had more staff members leaving it with another body bag.

  Whoever had trash duty today was going to have his hands full.

  Finally, after having his feet burning and raw from the long amount of scraping against the floor, they stopped before another door. As he was carried inside, the dreadful hospital smell filled his lungs, making him cough with a bit of blood splatting on the ground below. The room was filled with people tending to numerous machines and blue lit panels, all of them making sure whatever they were about to attempt had the highest chance for success. Once the agent unlocked Emich’s cuffs, a quick fist flew into the left guard’s chest, followed by a kick that sent him stumbling into the wall. The back of the other guard’s baton smashed into the back of Emich’s neck, knocking him down onto his knees.

  “What did I tell you about trying to escape?” The agent threatened irritably.

  Emich hissed in pain as the guard pulled up on his arm and twisted it. “I wasn’t planning on doing any of that. I was just paying him back for tasing me.”

  An amused huff escaped the agent’s nose, quickly followed by a swift nod of his head. The left guard pushed off of the wall and flew in with a strong stomp to Emich’s temple. The other guard raised him up a little bit to knee him in the chest a few times before the two of them grabbed him together. Struggling to lift him up to the operating table, they tried their best to get Emich on his back, having to give him a few whacks with their shock batons to do so. With one holding his arms down and the other holding down his feet, the agent pressed the button under the foot of the table to have the metal restraints whoosh out of hiding. Curving over his limbs and fastening down tightly, he still tried to wiggle out of them to no avail.

  A final one that connected over his forehead and slammed down to keep it still — nearly breaking his neck from the force, ceasing his effort, unless he wanted further injury. It was no use now. Technicians and other agents gathered around him, attaching heart sensors to his chest and electronic chips to his shaved skull. The agent that brought him to the room stood over him, a needle connected to a tube in his hand. Emich was more or less glad about the pain he felt before, since he didn’t have to feel the pinch of the needle going into the vein in his arm.

  One by one, the agent inserted more tubes, covering his entire body with them. Emich’s eyes widened as he watched his body get more and more plugged into the unknown devices that the tubes were connected to. What little he could tell due to the lack of movement that was allowed to his line of sight, the machines were filled with different liquids. The see-through tubes were a dead giveaway. At least the lethal injections were quick and painless; this procedure was on the other side of the spectrum before he even got into the room.

  “Shouldn’t you knock me out before you juice me up,” Emich said as the agent seemed to finish with the last needle, which was jabbed firmly into the left side of his neck. It just so happened to be the biggest one as well.

  The agent folded his hands, attempting to emulate sympathy without cracking a smile. He failed right when he opened his mouth. “Unfortunately, an anesthetic won’t be possible for this procedure. We need you awake for the whole thing. It’s the only way it can work.”

  “Tell that to the stiffs I saw in the hall.”

  Blinking, he almost showed a side that seemed human, but quickly threw it away once he took a deep breath. “... Casualties are an element of war, Mr. Aumeier. I’m sure you know all about that. People die so others can live. If those people are deemed unsuitable for human rights, then the rest of us shall use that opportunity to make sure the world keeps spinning.”

  Emich ignored the fact that his rights were stripped of him the second he woke up in the facility. He knew what he was. He knew he was still human.

  “Success might come from you or it might come from another,” the agent continued as he walked over to his control panel to the side, the blue glow gleaming off of his heavily aged face. “But, it is very clear. Success is a necessity for all of us.” He typed away on the floating keyboard. “I don’t know who you worship, Mr. Aumeier, but you better pray to whoever they are. Praying won’t hurt… but this will.”

  Activating the machines with a digital beep, a dark fluid pumped down the tubes. All that Emich could do was look up at the blinding light above and hear whatever was in those tubes coursing towards him. Closing his eyes, he felt the chemicals enter his body. The small dome lowered over the table he was on, the sounds growing muffled until they were completely silent. Within the soundproof glass, in the secret facility in parts unknown, and unable to move, he did all he could do.

  He screamed.

  Chapter 2

  War ran in the Aumeier name for thousands of years, with Emich’s family always running into battle to fight for something that barely involved them. Ever since his ancestors were involved in the fall of Rome during the Gothic uprising, the Aumeier might as well had been born with weapons in their hands. Barbarians, savages, woodmen; they were called anything that meant uncivilized. That also ran in the family. But, it’s what kept the family alive.

  Seven years…

  It had been seven years since that
dreadful day.

  Annwn was considered one of the smaller cities of Germany, after the old villages were already torn down to make more room during the early 2100s. It was during a time of big change, when Europe combined with Russia, Australia, and occupied Africa to create the new and highly praised ERA in 2145; creating a different and more respected upgrade to the previous UN. It was during the time of big promises and big dreams. On the surface, it was what everyone wanted and received. At the cost of geographical history, Europe became one giant chain of mega cities, turning the Autobahn into a multi-continental transit, with multiple highways stacked upon each other — as were all roads soon after.

  Birds flocked by the window, several stories high. It’s roof was higher than that, with the high road above it; the support structures towering over the ground below. The sun shown brightly on the solar panels of the exterior, a feature that separated most housing towers from neighboring shops and buildings. The transit dome down below was one of the many in the city that allowed easy travel to anywhere nearby, something that Emich and anyone else in the city used on a daily basis. Thankfully, the twenty-four hour hover cab was automated, which is the only reason he was able to get home at all.

  Emich lay in bed like a dead body, too hungover to hear or feel his alarm chip vibrating his pillow. He was barely sixteen, still in his rebellious years with his dirty blonde hair always covering his eyes; either lying down or standing up. Dried up vomit would have stained the carpet if there weren’t cleaning nanomites in the fibers. He barely got home that early morning after his night of celebrating nothing with his friends, a ritual they held every Sunday at a different part of town. Some things never change, no matter how much time goes by.

  The only difference this time was that he had more to drink than he ever did, right there in that area between “dead drunk” and “legally dead”. Moaning to himself and huffing the hair away from his dry mouth, he smacked the alarm, silencing it. Pushing himself out of bed, he went about to his morning routine, beginning with brushing the traces of predigested food out of his teeth. As people who worked for the government, his parents were always out for most of the week, leaving Emich on his own. It used to be him and his older brother, Konrad, who would take care of the house during their leave, only, Konrad joined the army to take care of global conflicts instead.

  For all that Emich knew, his brother was already on the other side of the world; probably taking care of rebel NDA forces in China. They were always on the news, always the main problem that their parents would bicker about at the dinner table. One dealt with illegal trade policing, the other with illegal immigration, and both were always full of something to complain about. When they heard Konrad was joining the good fight by joining the E-Army, there was little reason for them to be proud of their little Emich and his slacker shenanigans. To them, he was just a leech until he turns eighteen and they can get rid of him for good.

  It didn’t hurt to spend his weekly government allowance of credits until then.

  Trudging towards the bathroom, he slide the mirror up to grab a medicine strip for his hangover — the see through square evaporating on his tongue once he closed his mouth. The ringing in his ears eased away, while the lights started to dim to a brightness that didn’t hurt his eyes. Heading downstairs, he tossed his clothes into the washing machine and put on a fresh pair that were already pressed and ready for wearing. The machine beeped once he closed the lid, turning on its inner sensors.

  “Analyzing,” its robotic voice said. “Soil level: heavy. Time: 10 minutes. Starting.”

  By the time he was done taking a shower, the time on the clock already passed two. He didn’t have much time to finish his school assignments for the day, something that didn’t really bother him. He wasn’t planning to do them anyway and was already planning on dropping out, so it didn’t matter in the slightest. He didn’t even notice that outside world was in chaos, due to the noise canceling barrier protecting the house from the constant racket of endless traffic.

  He was oblivious to the city’s status.

  Turning on the wall screen in the kitchen for some background noise, he poured some clean water from the faucet to drink while he looked for something to eat. While he lazily rummaged through the cabinet, the cold water he chugged down relieved the pounding in his head. The only food they had in the house was synthetic, which always made him suffer during hangovers due to the alcohol and flavoring chemicals mixing badly. Looking in his wallet, he had enough to walk down to the diner further down the building and get himself a real meal. Walking back to his room to get a jacket, he overheard something from the wall screen.

  The person on the news was less human than the washing machine in the other room, but the female skin and clothes they added to it still gave off the illusion that there was life behind its android eyes. “... Germany is in a state of emergency after an attack from the sky. So far, not much is known about who or what has attacked the ERA capitol country, but everyone within the impact area is to be evacuated immediately.”

  The screen of the android floated away while a new picture appeared. A big red circle in Germany, with the city he was in right there near the center. Emich took a step back, shaking his head to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. Live feed of cameras recording appeared around the map, the image of a massive structure set in the small forest nearby. He hadn’t seen a tree in so long, he nearly forgot what they looked like; the forest outside of their city only there for oxygen purposes.

  Whipping out his cellphone, he tried to call up anyone he knew, anyone to see what was going on. Before he could tap on any of the icons, he saw that there was no service, not even internet to the house itself. There was no way of reaching out to anyone. The emergency broadcast continued as he put his useless phone away. The news screen was gone already, replaced with the one they use during states of emergencies, the one they only use when there is no connection to a media station anywhere.

  “Attention, attention citizens of Annwn. An unknown threat has been detected in your area. The city is to be evacuated immediately. Please remain calm. Report to the nearest transit dome and await instruction upon arrival. All looting and violent personnel will be shot on sight. Attention, attention…”

  The message continued to repeat as Emich hurried over to the window above his bed. Opening the blinds, he could see black figures floating around the city, mistaking them for birds at first. Pushing the glass open at the edge, the sound of low rumbling entered the room, quick booms coming from the far distance. Through the thickness of the tall buildings and layers of roadways, something flew by his window, nearly crashing into the wall he was leaning against. Sticking his head out after it passed by, he could see the glow of bright green strips on the back of an aircraft he’s never seen before.

  It was small and shaped like a demonic tiara, but the cannon at its front was loud enough to shake everything in his room — everything in the house falling over, his father’s bookshelf crashing down in the other room. An orange beam of light split off into a helix by the time it made contact with the building it was targeting. The energy of the blast traveled all throughout the structure’s exterior, electrical bolts sizzling all around it. As fast as it was touched by the blast, the building was already crumbling to the ground and taking out everything below it. Whatever he didn’t see was what worried him.

  It was whatever was behind the soon to fall buildings around him that made his heart sink.

  Struggling to keep his footing on the vibrating floor, he scrambled his way to the front door, unlocking it with the finger scanner. Everyone else's door was already wide open and abandoned, no time to even close the door behind them as they headed exactly where Emich had his still foggy mind on. Thankfully, their unit was right next to the elevator, something he didn’t want to take with the way the building was about to topple over. Right when he opened the emergency door to head down the endless set of stairs to get to the actual emergency exit, the door dinged o
pen to the elevator, surprising him. Nobody in there right mind would be going up to that floor unless they had a very good reason.

  For the lone soldier, it was good enough.

  “Don’t go down there!” The Kommando called out, charging into the hall’s end.

  Emich knew that voice from anywhere, even with it coming from the helmet's muffling audio speakers. “Konrad, is that you?”

  He ran in to give his brother a hug, Emich returning the favor. “I’m so glad to find you alive.”

  His suit was bulky, covered in protective armor, electronics, and thick with the urban blue camo; but Emich could still feel the warmth from within. “What the hell are you doing here? What is going on?”

  “I came in with a FS squad and split away from them on purpose. Their landing caskets went near the forest. I redirected mine over here. You’re just lucky mom and dad never moved the house to a different tower.”

  FS squads, also known as First Strikers, were trusted Kommandos who acted as surveillance so the attacking forces can gather intel and get the best idea on how to handle the situation. Since the invading anomaly was unknown to any database on Earth, it was no surprise they sent them in as fast as they did. With the equipment they had, especially the UGV2 layout, Konrad had more maneuverability than was humanly possible. Most of its gear consisted of magnetic hooks, kinetic boosters, and grip treads on the joints and limbs. Emich leaned back, looking up at his brother and past all of the technology. The visor of his helmet was shaded and covered in transferring data and the edges, but he could still see his soft eyes within — as faint as they were.

  “Did you find our parents? Where are they?”

  Konrad glanced away, slowly letting go of his brother. Taking a step to the white bench beside the wall, he sat down and held himself up with his carbine assault rifle. Looking down, he put a gloved hand over the side of his visor. “... Mom and dad are dead. There building was one of the first to be hit. I know for a fact that it was… painless.”