Chapter 127: Raid on the Fourth Reich
Rex-1 closed his laptop with a deliberate motion, the soft click of the latch echoing faintly in the sparsely furnished room. A long sigh escaped him as he rose from his chair, adjusting the cuffs of his tactical jacket. The insignia of MTF DE8-ℜ 'Acies Carnifex' stood stark against the black fabric.
Exiting his office, he descended the steel staircase, the cold, metallic clang of his boots reverberating through the warehouse. The faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzed above as he greeted several operators stationed on guard duty or enjoying a brief reprieve from their assignments.
Reaching the sub-levels, the atmosphere shifted, colder, darker, with an oppressive weight that clung to the air. Faint screams and agonized cries pierced the silence, their echoes threading through the dimly lit corridors. Rex-1 paid them no mind; he had long since grown desensitized to such sounds. They were the standard accompaniment to the Foundation's most ruthless methods.
He stopped in front of a thick, reinforced door marked "Interrogation Chamber 3." Entering the adjacent observation room, he stood behind the one-way glass, arms crossed, as he surveyed the scene beyond.
Inside, the subject of the interrogation sat slumped in a chair, his body restrained by heavy leather straps. Blood coated his torn shirt and pooled at his feet. His face was a grotesque mask of swelling and discoloration, his fingernails entirely stripped away, leaving raw, bloodied nail beds exposed.
Two masked operators stood over him. One delivered methodical, calculated strikes to the man's torso and limbs, while the other held a pair of electrical cables connected to a portable battery unit. The hum of current arcing between the wires was a sinister overture.
As the operator with the cables moved closer, the man's vacant gaze flickered with a spark of primal terror. He flinched and struggled weakly against his bindings, his voice cracking into desperate pleas muffled by swollen lips.
Rex-1 calmly reached for his radio. "1-1 to 1-5, suspend the session immediately. Report to the observation room. Over."
The operator holding the wires paused mid-step, exchanging a glance with his companion. Both nodded silently, their movements practiced and efficient as they stepped back from the battered man.
Rex-1 waited, his eyes fixed on the scene as the operators left the interrogation chamber. A few moments later, the two arrived in the observation room, their postures straight.
Rex-1's voice was low but commanding. "Report."
One of the operators, designated Rex-5, stepped forward. "The subject claims they were ordered to follow the representatives. They don't know we're Foundation."
Rex-1's brow furrowed. "Affiliation?"
Rex-5 nodded grimly. "They're part of a group called 'The Fourth Reich.' Apparently, they want us to join them because we're 'pure Germans' and should serve them. They also tried to get intels from us."
Rex-1's expression darkened, his jaw tightening. He turned to the glowing screen of a laptop stationed nearby. On it, a sterile interface displayed a list of names, members of the O4 Council.
"Sir," Rex-1 addressed the screen, "What are your orders?"
A voice emerged from the speakers, distorted and mechanical, masking the identity of O4-3. "We have received authorization from the O5 Council. Intelligence suggests our three prisoners were stationed at the Lotsenhaus Seemannshöft in Hamburg's port district. The O4 Council has deemed this location a high-priority target. Mobile Task Force DE8-ℜ, you are ordered to conduct a raid and apprehend all individuals of interest."
Rex-1 absorbed the information with a stoic nod. "And the prisoners?"
"Leave them at the observation post," O4-3 replied. "A transfer team will handle their reassignment. They are to be reclassified as Class-D personnel."
With that, the screen went dark, and silence filled the observation room. Rex-1 closed the laptop with a snap, the sound echoing off the sterile walls. He turned to his team, his voice sharp and resolute.
"Gear up. We're moving out in ten."
---
Rex-1 approached the gateway with a casual air, his civilian attire blending seamlessly into the dark surroundings. His eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto the two guards stationed by the entrance. Their demeanor was stiff, their vigilance evident, though the concealed bulge of their weapons under their jackets gave away their readiness for trouble.
He moved closer, his posture relaxed, his steps unhurried. The first guard stepped forward, raising a hand in a firm stop. "Halt! This is a restricted area. Turn around and leave immediately!"
Rex-1 smiled disarmingly. "Whoa there, no need to get worked up. I was just out for a stroll." He raised his hands slightly, palms out, as though to diffuse the situation. Then, turning nonchalantly, he walked away, his movements calm and unthreatening.
The guards exchanged glances, the tension in their shoulders easing as they watched him go. Rex-1 continued down the pathway until he reached a nondescript white van parked discreetly near the edge of the area. Leaning against the vehicle, he fished a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with a practiced motion. He took a slow drag, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke into his comms.
"Two armed guards at the main gate," he murmured. "Weapons hidden under their jackets. Rex team, prep for deployment."
With that, he flicked the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. For a moment, he studied the crushed remains, then picked them up, grinding them to dust between his fingers before tossing them into the van's waste bin. Satisfied, he slid the door open and stepped inside.
The atmosphere within the van was electric. The glow of tactical displays cast eerie shadows across the faces of the operatives seated inside, their expressions focused and disciplined. Each was a member of the elite MTF DE8-ℜ, their codenames ranging from 1-2 to 1-10. Rex-1, or 1-1, was their leader.
He donned his gear methodically, securing his tactical vest, helmet, and goggles with precision. His pistol was holstered at his hip, his rifle slung across his chest. He checked the chamber, his motions swift and practiced, before lifting his gaze to meet the eyes of his team.
"We wait for the signal," he said simply.
The radio crackled to life, breaking the tense silence. "Command to all Rex units. Scans complete. Perimeter shows multiple patrols along the main pathway. Heat signatures inside confirm hostiles across all levels of the target structure. You are greenlit to proceed."
Rex-1 tapped his earpiece. "1-1, copy. All Hawks, Rex team moving in through the main access point. Eyes on your targets; watch your fire."
His gaze swept across his team. "Go."
The operatives exited the van with synchronized precision, their movements silent as shadows. Activating their night vision goggles, the dim surroundings came alive with a phosphorescent-blue glow, turning the mundane into a field of opportunity. They advanced in formation, their footsteps muffled on the uneven gravel.
Reaching the gate, two operatives, 1-3 and 1-4, broke off from the main group, closing in on the guards like specters of the night. The guards remained oblivious until it was too late. In a blur of motion, the operatives struck, rendering both unconscious with precise blows to the neck. They administered a fast-acting sedative, ensuring the guards would remain incapacitated.
"Guards neutralized," 1-3 whispered into his comms.
Rex-1 nodded and gestured for the team to proceed. They slipped through the now-unmanned gate, their training evident in every step they took. The first obstacle had been cleared; the mission had begun.
The team moved in unison along the pathway, the silence broken only by the occasional crunch of gravel under their boots. Overhead, industrial pipes crisscrossed above them, casting fragmented shadows onto the ground. Ahead, the path diverged into two distinct routes. Rex-1 raised a hand, signaling the team to take the left trail. The slope rose gradually, leading them to a vantage point atop a wall.
From their elevated position, the operatives went prone, peering over the edge to survey the area below. There it was, the target. A pair of buildings loomed in the distance, separated from the team by a vast parking lot. The lot itself was sparsely populated but active. A handful of guards patrolled lazily, their weapons slung across their shoulders, while clusters of civilians loitered in conversation.
Rex-1 pressed a hand to his earpiece. "1-1 to Hawk team, do you have visual on us?"
A crackling reply came through the comms. "2-1 to 1-1, confirmed. We've got eyes. Counting thirteen guards and eight unidentified personnel in civilian clothing. No way you'll make it through undetected. We do see an opening on the left riverbank, but once you're there, we can't cover you."
Rex-1 acknowledged the report with a curt, "Received, 2-1." He glanced back at his squad, giving a series of silent hand signals. His team responded with nods of understanding. They shifted to the left, descending carefully down a rocky incline until they reached a narrow strip of stone beach hugging the water's edge.
The team moved with surgical precision, the faint lapping of the river against the shore masking the sound of their approach. The night vision goggles cast the scene in phosphorescent blue, making every movement crystal clear. Rex-1 scanned the area ahead, his eyes narrowing as he spotted two figures pacing on a stone pier extending into the water.
Raising a clenched fist, he halted the team. The guards on the pier were talking, their postures relaxed, completely unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows. Rex-1 pointed to two operatives, his movements crisp and deliberate. With a swift motion, he traced a finger across his throat, a clear order: eliminate the targets.
The designated operatives, 1-5 and 1-7, took position, raising their suppressed rifles. The soft hiss of two simultaneous shots echoed faintly, followed by the dull thud of two bodies crumpling. Both guards hit the ground before sliding off the pier into the water below with quiet splashes.
The team remained motionless, waiting to ensure no one had been alerted. After a tense moment, Rex-1 gave the signal to advance. The team resumed their approach, every step bringing them closer to the main compound, and the action yet to unfold.
The team moved carefully up the incline, their boots crunching softly against the gravel path. Shadows stretched long under the faint moonlight as they crept closer to the building, their eyes scanning for any signs of movement.
The distant hum of activity from the compound grew louder, mingling with the faint rustle of the wind. As they reached the edge of the hill, the red-bricked structure loomed before them, its imposing presence casting an ominous silhouette against the night sky. Rex-1 motioned for the team to halt, their breaths steady as they prepared for the next phase.
Rex-1 signaled his team to hold position, gesturing toward the darkened façade of the red-bricked building. The team, clad in tactical gear and with their weapons drawn, pressed against the wall, their breaths silent as the moonlight cast shadows on the cracked surface. The second floor was their target, but reaching it would require precision and stealth.
Using a grappling hook, Rex-1 shot a line upward, securing it against a metal beam that extended from the second floor's edge. He tugged on the line twice to test its strength and then gestured for his team to follow. One by one, the operators ascended silently, their boots scraping lightly against the aged brick. At the top, they found themselves on a narrow metal railing overlooking what could only be described as a twisted, desecrated homage to a religious sanctuary.
Below them stretched a vast, dimly lit hall. The space was filled with rows of wooden pews arranged in military precision. At the far end, a makeshift stage rose where a man in a stark black suit stood, illuminated by harsh spotlights. The swastika insignia adorned the wall behind him, along with banners displaying chilling slogans of hate. The air was thick with tension as dozens of people sat rapt, their faces a mixture of zealotry and malice.
Rex-1 held up a fist, signaling the team to stop. They crouched low on the railing, watching as the man below raised his hands to command attention.
"Brothers and sisters," the man began, his voice booming, amplified by a microphone. "We stand here tonight as the chosen, the strong, the righteous heirs of a legacy that this decaying, cowardly world fears. The Fourth Reich rises not from weakness but from clarity and power, from purity that these degenerate filths have sought to corrupt!"
The crowd erupted in cheers, fists pumping the air. The man paused, savoring the energy before continuing, his tone dripping with venom.
"Look at what they have done to our once-proud nation! They poison our bloodlines with their mongrel offspring, with their filthy, unworthy genes that dilute our Aryan strength. These Untermenschen, these mongrels of color, spread like a plague, infesting our homes, our schools, our workplaces. Their very existence is an affront to nature itself!"
Rex-1 felt a wave of revulsion but remained silent, his hand gripping the rail tightly. Below, the man on stage continued, his rhetoric escalating.
"And what of the perverts?" he spat, his voice turning almost guttural. "The so-called progressives celebrate their depravity! Homosexuals, transvestites, all these vile creatures flaunt their sickness in front of our children, poisoning their minds with their degenerate ways. They are a disease, a cancer, and we. WE! are the cure!"
The crowd roared, the sound reverberating off the hall's high ceilings.
"And let us not forget the weak!" the man shouted, pacing the stage with fervor. "The disabled, the sick, the feeble-minded! They drain our resources, contribute nothing, and burden our strength. They have no place in our world! Our Reich is one of strength, of power, of absolute purity. These parasites will be removed, eradicated, swept away so that only the strong remain!"
The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, standing as one, their cries echoing with an eerie fervor. The man raised his arms, basking in the adulation.
"They call us monsters," he sneered, his voice softer but no less venomous. "They call us relics of a defeated past. But they fear us because they know we are the future. Soon, we will take back our nation. And soon, we will destroy their lies, their weakness and their existence! Sieg Heil!"
The crowd shouted back in unison, their arms raised. "Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil!"
Rex-1 exchanged a glance with Rex-5, who looked equally disgusted. The man on stage gave one final salute before stepping off the stage and disappearing behind a curtain. The crowd began to settle, their voices buzzing with excitement and anticipation.
Rex-1 whispered into his comms. "Priority target identified. Maintain position. No one moves until we're ready."
The operators remained in their positions, silent and unseen, waiting for the next phase of their mission.
A few minutes later, the comms crackled to life with 2-1's voice, steady yet urgent: "Hawk Team here. We've spotted movement at the clock tower, just above the face of the clock. Switching to thermal."
Seconds passed, tension palpable, before 2-1 spoke again: "Confirmed. There's an office at the top of the tower. One male occupant, accompanied by three guards."
Rex-1's voice was a low murmur: "Acknowledged, Hawk Team. Maintain surveillance. We're moving to secure the target." He turned to the rest of his team, his tone sharp and precise. "Disperse around the building. No one gets out alive. 1-6, you're with me."
The team gave quick nods, splitting into smaller units and vanishing into the shadows, circling the perimeter with the fluidity of predators. Rex-1 and 1-6 broke off, heading for the tower. The climb was slow, deliberate, as they ascended the structure's outer scaffolding, using cracks and beams to pull themselves higher. The faint glow of the clock face illuminated their path as they finally reached the massive glass pane behind the clock, which offered a distorted view of the office inside.
Peering through the glass, they saw their target: the man who had delivered the vitriolic speech. He sat at a grand oak desk, his back to them, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. His posture was relaxed, unaware of the storm about to descend upon him.
1-6 reached into his gear and silently affixed a small explosive charge to the glass. The two operatives backed away carefully, positioning themselves on either side of the clock face. Rex-1 held up his fingers, silently counting down:
3… 2… 1.
The explosion was deafening, shattering the glass into a cascade of razor-sharp shards. The two operatives surged forward through the opening, landing inside the office in a storm of movement. Rex-1 slammed into the target, pinning him to the ground with brutal efficiency.
The door to the office burst open, three armed guards storming in with weapons raised. 1-6 reacted instantly, squeezing off two quick shots. Both guards crumpled to the ground, their bodies slamming against the walls. The third guard, however, stumbled backward and hurled a grenade into the room.
"GRENADE!" Rex-1 shouted, diving for cover alongside 1-6. The device detonated with a blinding flash and a deafening crack, rendering both men disoriented. Their vision swam with searing white light, their ears ringing violently.
Through the chaos, Rex-1 caught a blurry glimpse of the target staggering blindly toward the doorway, equally disoriented but using the confusion to escape. A fresh surge of adrenaline shot through Rex-1, but before he could move, the remaining guard reentered the room, opening fire.
1-6 grunted in pain as a bullet tore into his leg. Despite the injury, he raised his weapon and returned fire, his aim true even in his blinded state. The guard collapsed, blood pooling beneath him.
"1-6!" Rex-1 shouted, crawling toward his fallen comrade.
Clutching his bleeding leg, 1-6 gave him a pained grin. "It's just the leg, TL. I'll manage. Go get that bastard for me."
Rex-1 hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. His vision was still fuzzy, but his determination was razor-sharp. He scrambled to his feet, steadied himself, and pursued the fleeing target.
Rex-1's boots thudded against the metal stairs as he descended the tower, each step reverberating with purpose. He brought his hand to his earpiece and spoke in a sharp, authoritative tone: "All units, this is 1-1. Commence the assault. Sweep the building. No loose ends."
The silence of the night shattered instantly. Gunfire erupted from all sides, a chaotic symphony of violence. Explosions rattled the air as breach charges tore through doors and walls. The screams of surprised guards mixed with shouted commands from Rex's team, creating a cacophony of destruction.
As Rex-1 reached the base of the tower, the comms buzzed. "1-1, this is 1-4. We've got Type-Blues in play. Repeat, thaumaturgists confirmed. Proceed with caution."
Rex-1 scowled and muttered, "Copy that. Neutralize them, but don't let them stall you."
He moved swiftly down a narrow corridor, weapon raised. The sounds of fighting grew louder as he approached the main floor. A sudden burst of light and heat flared ahead of him, and Rex-1 stopped short. A man in a black suit stood at the far end of the corridor, hands crackling with energy as he chanted under his breath.
"Type-Blue. Great," Rex-1 muttered. Without hesitation, he raised his rifle and fired a burst. The thaumaturgist reacted quickly, throwing up a shimmering, semi-transparent barrier. The rounds flattened harmlessly against it, sparking as they fell to the ground.
The thaumaturgist smirked, raising his hand to unleash a bolt of searing energy. Rex-1 dove behind a metal support beam, the air crackling where he had been standing mere seconds before. He reached into his vest and pulled out a flash grenade, yanking the pin and hurling it toward the enemy.
The grenade exploded with a piercing flash and deafening bang. The thaumaturgist stumbled, his barrier flickering. Rex-1 didn't waste the opportunity. He surged forward, switching to his sidearm as he closed the distance. Two precise shots penetrated the weakened barrier, one striking the thaumaturgist in the chest, the other in the throat. The man crumpled, lifeless.
Breathing heavily, Rex-1 keyed his comms. "1-1. Type-Blue neutralized. Progress report."
"1-3 here," a voice crackled back. "The target's fleeing. He's heading toward the warehouse behind the main building."
"1-8 here," another voice chimed in. "Interior's secure. Hostiles down or detained. Moving to reinforce perimeter."
"Good work," Rex-1 replied. "Converge on the warehouse. No one enters or leaves until I give the word."
Rex-1 stepped out of the building, the carnage of the assault evident. Smoke curled from shattered windows, and the air reeked of gunpowder and blood. Bodies lay scattered across the courtyard, some lifeless, others writhing in pain.
To his right, more than a dozen prisoners knelt on the ground, hands clasped behind their heads. Four operatives stood guard, their weapons trained on the captives, whose expressions ranged from defiance to terror. Rex-1's gaze swept over them briefly before moving on.
Ahead, the warehouse loomed. Four operatives were stationed at each corner, their rifles pointed outward, ensuring no one could escape. The faint sounds of movement inside suggested the target wasn't alone.
Rex-1 keyed his comms once more. "1-1 to all units around the warehouse, regroup on me and prepare to breach. Let's end this."
Rex-1 and four operatives gathered around the northern entrance of the warehouse. The team moved with disciplined silence as the breaching charge was affixed to the heavy metal door. Rex-1 keyed his comms. "1-1 to Command, preparing to breach Building B. ETA on support?"
"Command to 1-1, support team inbound. ETA three minutes," came the reply.
"Acknowledged. Over," Rex-1 said, glancing toward the operative readying the charge. A thumbs-up confirmed it was in place.
The team fanned out, taking cover behind crates and walls as Rex-1 began his countdown.
Three. Two. One.
The charge detonated, a thunderous explosion that reverberated through the night. The door flew inward with a screech of metal, and the team surged forward.
Inside, the warehouse was dimly lit and cavernous, the air heavy with the scent of oil and sweat. But this time, the element of surprise was gone. The guards had heard the commotion outside and were ready.
Gunfire erupted immediately, tracer rounds cutting through the gloom.
"Contact front!" Rex-1 barked as his team scattered to cover.
Several guards were entrenched behind stacks of crates, their rifles trained on the entrance. One operative lobbed a smoke grenade into the room, the thick gray cloud quickly obscuring the guards' vision.
The team moved like shadows through the haze, their suppressors muffling the deadly cracks of their shots.
Rex-1 advanced down a narrow aisle, his rifle trained on every corner. A guard appeared from behind a pallet of boxes, and Rex-1 dispatched him with two precise shots.
"Clear this area and keep moving!" he ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos.
The team split into pairs, sweeping the warehouse room by room. The guards were unrelenting, their numbers greater than expected. From an elevated catwalk, a guard with a machine gun rained down suppressive fire.
"Sniper, take him out!" Rex-1 called over his comms.
A single shot rang out from a Hawk Team operative stationed outside, the machine gunner crumpling instantly.
The team pressed forward, clearing storage areas and small offices. Each room held more resistance, hostiles armed with everything from handguns to makeshift melee weapons.
In one section, an operator breached a door to find three guards setting up a defensive position. He tossed a fragmentation grenade inside, the resulting blast neutralizing the threat.
Rex-1's comms crackled. "TL, movement on the east side of the building. They're calling for reinforcements!"
"Cut them off," Rex-1 ordered.
The team coordinated a swift maneuver, intercepting the reinforcements before they could regroup. A vicious firefight broke out, bullets ricocheting off steel beams and machinery. The operatives maintained their discipline, their training and superior tactics overwhelming the disorganized guards.
Finally, the team regrouped near the central area of the warehouse. The last of the resistance was holed up in a control room overlooking the main floor.
"Stack up," Rex-1 commanded, gesturing toward the door.
An operator placed another breaching charge, and the team took positions. The explosion rocked the room, and the team stormed in.
Inside, the guards made a desperate stand, but they were no match for the operatives' skills. Within moments, the room was cleared, its monitors and consoles flickering eerily in the chaos.
As Rex-1 scanned the area, his gaze fell upon a sleek elevator tucked into the corner. Its polished steel doors gleamed under the flickering fluorescent light.
"TL," one of his operatives called, pointing to the elevator. "They're retreating underground."
Rex-1 keyed his comms. "Command, this is 1-1. Warehouse is secured. We've located an elevator, possible subterranean facility. Awaiting orders."
Before Command could respond, another voice cut in over the radio. "1-3 to TL, we've got movement in the elevator. They know we're here."
Rex-1's jaw tightened. "Prepare for resistance. We're not letting anyone escape."
The team surrounded the elevator, their weapons trained on the doors as the chaos began to settle.
The faint hum of the elevator grew louder, vibrating through the floor beneath their boots. Rex-1 and his team stood ready, their weapons aimed at the doors.
A sudden ding echoed through the warehouse as the elevator doors slid open.
Out stepped a towering figure clad in heavy, reinforced armor, a juggernaut. The hulking man was a walking fortress, his minigun already spinning, a deep mechanical whir filling the room. Behind him, four heavily armed guards fanned out, their weapons leveled at the operatives.
"Hostiles, heavy armor! Take cover!" Rex-1 shouted.
The team scattered, diving behind crates and pillars as the juggernaut unleashed a torrent of fire. The minigun roared, spitting bullets that tore through wood and metal alike.
Rex-5, crouched behind a steel container, called out, "That thing's armor is too thick! We need to focus on the supports!"
Rex-1 assessed the situation quickly. He keyed his comms. "Hawk Team, we need fire support on the elevator structure. Target the cables and mechanisms!"
"Negative, TL. No visual from our position," came the reply.
"Understood. We'll handle it. Team, suppress and maneuver!"
The operatives coordinated their fire, laying down a hail of bullets to keep the juggernaut and his guards pinned. One guard attempted to flank, but Rex-8 spotted him and fired, dropping the hostile with two precise shots.
The minigun turned toward Rex-3's position. Before the operatives could warn him, the barrage struck, forcing Rex-3 to dive for cover. A bullet grazed his leg, and he grunted in pain.
"I'm hit, but I'm good!" Rex-3 called, dragging himself behind a support beam.
Meanwhile, Rex-1 turned to Rex-6. "We need explosives on that elevator. Go!"
Rex-6 nodded, slinging his rifle and pulling out a small satchel charge. He darted from cover, weaving between debris as the juggernaut's fire tracked him.
"Cover him!" Rex-1 ordered.
The team concentrated their fire on the juggernaut, their shots sparking harmlessly against his armor but forcing him to slow his advance. Rex-6 reached the elevator, planting the charge on one of the cables.
"Charge set!" he shouted, retreating as quickly as he had advanced.
One of the guards charged forward, shotgun raised. Rex-7 intercepted, engaging him in close quarters. The two exchanged blows until Rex-7 managed to disarm the hostile and deliver a fatal stab with his combat knife.
The juggernaut roared, turning his fire on Rex-1. The team leader ducked behind a pillar as bullets chewed through the edge.
"Detonate the charge!" Rex-1 barked.
Rex-6 hit the detonator. The explosion rocked the room, and the elevator shuddered violently as the damaged cable snapped. The juggernaut stumbled, momentarily losing balance.
"Keep him off balance! Aim for the exposed joints!" Rex-1 yelled.
Rex-5 and Rex-9 coordinated their fire, targeting the weaker points in the juggernaut's armor. Sparks flew as bullets found their marks, causing the massive figure to stagger.
Suddenly, a second explosion echoed. The elevator's support structure collapsed entirely, and the juggernaut, along with the last guard, plummeted into the darkness below. The minigun's whirring ceased abruptly as the shaft swallowed them.
The team stood in silence, catching their breath.
"Everyone status?" Rex-1 asked.
"Rex-3 here, grazed but stable."
"Rex-6, minor burns. Still operational."
Rex-1 nodded, satisfied. He stepped toward the open elevator shaft, peering into the void.
The others gathered behind him, weapons at the ready. The shaft extended deep into the earth, a single steel cable swaying gently in the aftermath.
Rex-1 glanced at his team, his voice steady. "We're going down. Secure the ropes and prepare for descent. Stay sharp."
With a collective nod, the operatives readied themselves for the next stage of the mission. The quiet tension was electric, each of them knowing the dangers that lay below.
Part 8: The Machine's Paradox
Rex-1's voice crackled through the comms. "Command, we're descending. No turning back now."
The team secured their ropes to the steel beam overhead and began their descent into the abyss, sliding down one by one. The faint clinking of gear echoed in the confined space. As they landed atop the crumpled elevator car at the bottom, Rex-1 scanned the immediate surroundings.
"Stack up," he ordered.
Rex-6 set the charges on the elevator door. A muffled explosion followed, and the metal doors groaned as they were pried open, revealing a sprawling underground hall illuminated by flickering fluorescent lights.
The team swept in, moving methodically. The hall was vast, its architecture reminiscent of an old industrial bunker. A few guards rushed to intercept, but they were quickly neutralized with precise, coordinated fire.
At the far end of the room, a figure emerged from the shadows. Dressed in an immaculate suit, the man's expression was one of smug amusement.
"Welcome, honored guests," he said, spreading his arms theatrically. "I'm afraid this is where your journey ends. Allow me to introduce my masterpiece."
He turned to a large crate nearby and barked, "MCRbot, engage!"
The crate splintered apart, revealing a massive robot. The machine's metal frame gleamed under the harsh light, and its mounted M249 machine gun whirred to life, pointing directly at the operatives.
"Cover!" Rex-1 shouted, diving behind a steel pillar as the rest of the team scrambled for safety.
The man sneered, his voice a mixture of triumph and madness. "MCRbot, attack!"
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the robot's monotone voice filled the room. "Request denied."
The man froze.
"What?!"
Rex-1 peeked from cover, his weapon trained on the machine.
"What did it just say?"
The robot repeated, "Request denied. Targeting parameters indicate that all individuals present are white males."
The man's face twisted in disbelief. "What? No, no, no! Attack them!"
"Request denied," the robot replied, its tone unchanged. "I am programmed only to engage non-whites peoples, homosexuals, adherents of various religions, and individuals with disabilities unless instructed otherwise by my owner."
Silence hung in the air, broken only by the hum of the robot's systems.
The man's face contorted with rage. "You obey me! Attack them!"
The robot's cold voice responded, "Your request conflicts with my programmed parameters."
Rex-1 and his team exchanged incredulous looks, barely believing what they were hearing.
The man's fury reached a boiling point. "I GIVE YOU ORDERS! YOU OBEY ME!"
Rex-1, stepping out from cover, holstered his rifle and pulled out his taser. With a calm yet irritated expression, he fired it at the man.
Electricity crackled as the prongs connected, and the man convulsed, collapsing to the ground.
Rex-1 walked over to his subdued target, his team close behind, their weapons cautiously trained on the robot.
The robot stood motionless, its gun now aimed toward the floor.
Rex-7 muttered, "What the hell do we do about that thing?"
Rex-1 stared at the machine, his brow furrowed. "Command, this is 1-1. We have a situation…"
The robot's monotone voice interrupted. "Awaiting further orders."
The room fell silent again, the air thick with tension as the operatives debated their next move.
---
Leonard sat in his office, the dim glow of the monitor reflecting on his eyes as he read through the mission report from MTF DE8-ℜ. His expression shifted from neutral to incredulous as his eyes scanned the lines describing the anomalies encountered. He leaned back, running a hand through his hair before muttering aloud.
"A Nazi-engineered anomalous robot… more racist than the Nazis themselves. Fantastic."
Across the desk, Graves stood with his usual stoic demeanor, a tablet in his hand displaying additional details. "Boss," he began, his tone as steady as ever, "after the scientific department's inspection, it was confirmed that the machine is a heavily modified Foster-Miller TALON SWORDS combat robot. Designated SCP-102-DE."
Leonard raised a brow. "A TALON SWORDS? Those things are already formidable. What's the catch?"
Graves swiped to the next page on his tablet, continuing his explanation. "SCP-102-DE has been augmented with several anomalous modifications by the Fourth Reich faction. For one, its primary armament, a mounted M249 machine gun, has an anomalous regeneration system. Every shot that hits a non-white human regenerates one-sixth of the ammunition expended."
Leonard's disbelief deepened. "It regenerates ammo based on skin color? That's…" He trailed off, unable to find a word to encapsulate the absurdity.
Graves nodded grimly. "Tests also revealed that its targeting sensors are specifically tuned to skin tone. The ammunition doesn't regenerate if it hits a white individual."
Leonard leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "And the effective range? The report mentioned something about it being abnormal."
Graves swiped again. "Correct. The M249 mounted on SCP-102-DE has an effective range three times longer than the standard. Foundation researchers are baffled as to how this is achieved, as the robot's interior mechanics defy conventional physics."
Leonard tapped his fingers against the desk, his mind racing. "So, we've got a self-replenishing, racially-tuned death machine with sniper-like precision. Lovely. What's the source of these modifications?"
Graves's expression hardened. "Inspection of SCP-102-DE revealed remnants of its original manufacturer's logo, Raptor Tec. Industries. It seems the Fourth Reich acquired this unit from them before implementing the modifications. An investigative team has already been assembled to confront Raptor Tec. Industries tomorrow morning."
Leonard narrowed his eyes. "And if they aren't cooperative?"
Graves didn't hesitate. "Several MTF units will be stationed nearby, ready to storm the facility. Authorization for aggressive action has been pre-approved by the O5 Council."
Leonard exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. "This whole thing is a nightmare. A sentient robot enforcing hate speech with bullets…"
Graves interjected. "Correction, sir. It's not sentient, just extremely well-programmed."
Leonard glared at him. "That doesn't make it better."