Invasion Wars 1: Crimes of War (2 page)

Washing his face in the sink, Emich held himself on the rim. Even though he hadn’t worked out much since his incarceration, he still kept his massive size. His fatigue was all in his head. “What is it, Chatterbox?”

“Who do you think they are going to take away today? I got my bet on the new guy. They’ve been taking the new meat more often, if my eyes are working right.”

Emich walked over to his side of the glass, holding his head on his arm as he put all of his weight into it. “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

“How do you think they choose, huh? Do they pick a number or do they pick the guy they hate the most?”

“If that was true and I was them, I would have picked you a long time ago.”

“Ahh, you’re always with the wisecracks. Is that a German thing? I never see any Germans in this place. Why do you think that is? Is it a bias thing? If you ask me, I think it’s a bias thing. The Germans are always getting away with everything. But it’s no surprise since they practically run the ERA. On this part of the world, at least.”

Emich rubbed the side of his aching head. “Nobody asked you, Chatterbox.”

From the cell to his left, the person in there was watching the news on his handheld, a luxury given to the nonviolent people that were put in there. “... Tragedy struck today as the Mars Colony was, in fact, invaded by what is believed to be the Niflheim; the same alien race that held a presence on Earth seven years ago. The size of the new invasion force is unknown at this, but all communication has been lost with the Mars Colony and all ships traveling through the Bifröst Spaceway. Estimated losses are between twenty to forty million, with hundreds of ships gone missing once the spaceway was disconnected. World leaders have declared war this morning with the Niflheim and have initiated the draft pact worldwide…”

Emich pounded a fist on the glass. “Hey, turn that thing off!”

When the volume increased on the handheld, Emich returned to bed, angry. He wasn’t surprised the Niflheim had shown their ugly faces again. If the new invasion force was anything more than the previous ones, he was glad he was in a secret facility and not up on the surface world where he would have to put up with those things. From the experience he had with them, he knew he surprisingly had a better chance of survival in a place where people were picked by random and disappeared forever.

While the news continued in the other cell, loud enough to echo down the hall, the doors to the holding cells whooshed open. Seeing the guards coming in, the guy next to Emich quickly turned down the volume low enough to practically be silent. Chatterbox watched the three men waltz down the lit up corridor, holding his breath. Seeing them pass right by his cell, he let out a sigh of relief, heading back to his bed and almost passing out. The scuffling of boots stopped in front of Emich’s glass wall.

The unarmored agent put his hand on the side of the cell, leaning his face into the screen to have it scan his face as well. With a loud hiss, the glass wall lowered into the floor. Stepping into the opened cell, the agent and his two guards stood in front of Emich’s bed. Covered head to toe in body armor and holding shock batons in hand, the guards acted as a wall to protect the agent from the ex ERA soldier. Emich turned over when he noticed their bodies were covering the overhead light.

“What do you want?” He asked bitterly, having a feeling he knew the answer already.

The man behind the guards was nothing but a scowl and a shining bald head. The pure white lab suit he wore made him look more like a mad scientist than an agent of the SSP. “Former ERA Master Sergeant Emich Aumeier. Your waiting period is now officially over and it is time for you to fulfill your agreement to the project. Any objections will be dealt with by force. You may come with us willingly or you shall be dealt with accordingly.”

“Fair enough.”

Getting off of the bed, Emich stood taller than the guards. Quickly bringing his massive hands up to let them cuff him, both of the guards flinched, even with the metal armor and full helmets protecting them. They weren’t military grade suits, but they were still enough to protect them from any sharp objects or blunt trauma. Still, dealing with the kind of monsters they had being “volunteered” into the SSP, they had to be as careful as possible if they cherished their lives. Both of them held his arms downward as they put his hands into the metal sleeve and zipped his wrist together so they couldn’t wiggle free.

Holding him firmly, now that he was unable to use his hands, the guards marched him out of the cell, the SSP agent leading the way. Heading back the way they came, Emich was finally able to walk past Chatterbox’s cell and see how he looked for the first time. He realized it was better as a mystery. Maybe he was a normal looking guy before whatever happened to him, but now he looked like an ogre that was burned alive by angry villagers. Most of his teeth were missing and part of his face drooped down, his right eye welded shut by the horrific burns.

The working side of his face lifted into a partial smirk. “Looks like I was wrong, Emich. It wasn’t one of the new guys this time.”

His amused and hacking laugh trailed off as they drew closer to the door. The agent followed the same procedure as before, holding his hand on the panel and leaning into the sensor. While he did, Emich looked over at the guards, who were watching the agent unlock the door. The door beeped open, Emich sending a quick elbow to the throat of the guy on his left. Before the one on his right could ready his baton, the inmate jabbed a foot into the guards lower leg, dropping him to the ground. Pushing him to the side, Emich rammed a shoulder into the agent, sending his head straight into the sensor’s glass.

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.