Chapter 005: Kill or Be Killed
Mason's heart sank. The voice behind him spoke German—their identity was crystal clear. He raised his hands and replied in a strained voice, "Don't do anything stupid, I'm just—"
Thump!
He stumbled forward and was kicked brutally to the ground from behind.
"On your knees!"
Accompanying that command was the metallic sound of a bolt being racked. Mason's scalp prickled with dread. In his previous life, he'd seen footage of execution-style killings, exactly like his current situation: first force the victim to kneel, then shoot them from behind. The moment his knees touched the ground, a bullet would pierce his skull, turning his head into red mist.
He felt his neck go rigid, and death seemed to crawl up his spine, ready to consume him at any second.
"Hey, are you insane? Fire that weapon now and you'll bring everyone down on us!" From a building in the courtyard, a German soldier pushed open the door and hissed urgently.
"Relax, buddy. There's gunfire everywhere—nobody's gonna notice." A dismissive voice came from behind Mason. "Alright, fine, since you're being paranoid, come help us out. We'll have some fun after we deal with this guy."
Mason crouched low and quickly glanced toward the courtyard. A baby-faced soldier with a rifle slung over his shoulder and ammunition belt across his chest staggered over drunkenly.
Through the half-open door behind him, Mason caught sight of a naked figure huddled in the corner. German soldiers during World War II were supposed to be disciplined and professional.
But every army has its bad apples. These two assholes had obviously just enlisted and were taking advantage of the chaos to commit war crimes. However, they also understood the risk and were afraid that gunfire would draw unwanted attention.
"Hold this bastard down, I'm gonna bash his skull in," the voice behind Mason said viciously, stepping forward and pressing his weapon against Mason's back, warning him not to try anything stupid.
"Huff... exhale, huff... exhale!"
Facing imminent death, Mason's breathing became ragged, his face flushing red. He forced himself to stay calm, desperately searching for any chance of survival.
"Ahhhh!"
Just then, a scream erupted from the room, and a disheveled woman burst through the door and ran toward the town center.
"Scheisse! We can't let her escape!"
Hearing the scream, the young soldier standing next to Mason whipped his head toward the sound. The man behind Mason shifted his gun away, apparently intending to shoot the fleeing woman.
In that instant, Mason's mind went blank, and a primal roar tore from his throat as he planted his feet and twisted violently backward.
The soldier had barely moved his weapon when he saw the man in front of him snarl and lunge at his head. He instinctively retreated, creating distance between himself and Mason, while simultaneously lowering his MP40 to rake it across his target.
Given the distance between them, after taking that half-step back, Mason's fist shouldn't have been able to reach him. But just as he was about to squeeze the trigger, his vision blurred, and a circular shield mysteriously materialized in the man's hand. Before he could react, the razor-sharp edge of the shield slammed into his jaw.
Rat-a-tat-tat!
The bullets sprayed wildly past Mason's body, accidentally cutting down the running woman. At that moment, the German soldier, due to the explosive pain in his face, lost his grip, and the submachine gun flew from his hands.
The vibranium shield was extraordinarily hard, with wickedly thin edges. In that life-or-death moment, Mason swung it with every ounce of strength, smashing it into the German soldier's mouth, shattering every tooth.
The soldier spat out a fountain of blood and collapsed backward, unconscious.
Hearing the commotion, the baby-faced soldier finally snapped to attention and frantically grabbed for the MP40 slung over his shoulder. At this distance, if the enemy fired first, Mason would be dead. His eyes bloodshot with adrenaline, he roared, shield raised in front of his chest, and charged like a linebacker.
WHAM!
The German soldier crashed backward, and Mason was on him instantly, gripping the shield's edge with both hands, savagely hammering it down on the soldier's face!
Crack! Crack! Crack!
At first, the soldier struggled and thrashed, but under Mason's berserk assault, he quickly lost all ability to resist. His face was pulverized by the shield's sharp rim, crimson blood mixing with grey matter spreading across the ground.
Driven by the terror of nearly dying, Mason didn't stop even after the German soldier was clearly dead. He continued smashing until the soldier's entire head was reduced to unrecognizable pulp, completely indistinguishable from the mud, before finally stopping, gasping for air.
"Gurgle... gurgle!"
A wet, choking sound came from nearby. Mason turned and saw the first soldier—the one who'd been knocked out—struggling to his feet, blood and foam pouring from his ruined mouth. This sight triggered Mason into a frenzy once more. He yanked a combat knife from the corpse beneath him, lunged forward, tackled the soldier to the ground, and drove the blade deep into his throat.
The man convulsed twice, the light fading from his eyes, and went still.
Mason, having survived the encounter, felt a chill run through his entire body, a wave of crushing exhaustion washing over him. In those few seconds of violence, he'd exerted every ounce of strength; his hands trembled uncontrollably, and he could barely maintain his grip on the shield.
At that moment, any illusion of this being some kind of adventure evaporated completely. The surrounding blood and corpses reminded Mason that this was a real world, and he could die at any moment.
If he died here, he seriously doubted that the so-called Dimensional Express would let him respawn like a video game.
Just then, information from the mental download surfaced with crystal clarity: "You have one life. Death is permanent!"
"Fuck your employee manual!" Mason cursed bitterly as he frantically searched through the information in his mind.
Just then, a bugle call to assemble echoed from the town square. Mason panicked initially, but quickly forced himself to calm down.
In 1942, if he remembered correctly, Norway was completely under Nazi occupation. Leaving Norwegian territory through legitimate channels was impossible.
Looking at the blood-soaked uniforms on the ground, Mason hesitated. Should he escape under cover of darkness, or temporarily disguise himself as a German soldier and blend into the retreating forces?
The commotion grew more urgent. Mason gritted his teeth, dragged the two corpses out of sight, stripped off the cleanest uniform he could find, gathered the equipment, and jogged toward the town square.
Right now, he had to gamble.
Red Skull seemed eager to return to Hydra headquarters to study the Tesseract, so their raid was fairly hasty—drop some artillery shells, execute witnesses, and withdraw.
Mason slipped into the formation, deliberately keeping his gaze away from the hellish carnage they were leaving behind.
Next, he had to find a way to get out of occupied Norway and across the Atlantic.
Steve Rogers was waiting for him in Brooklyn!
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