The Berlin Wall began construction on the 13th of August 1961. An Autumnal day. It was to divide the Eastern block from the Western block; Tshe Soviets from the big three Allied forces.
One could possibly argue the wall was built as if it were to gain – and keep – control over their respected populace, indoctrinating them into the ideological influences of whichever side they were on.
Though the country's capital itself lay situated heavily within East Germany, it had still been divided between the USSR, the Americans, the British and the French.
This story does not particularly concern the Berlin Wall, nor its history specifically. On the contrary, this story does concern history and history can change. Or more importantly, at this moment, history has been changed.
For you see, the Berliner Fernsehturm, known in English as the Berlin TV Tower, began construction on the 4th of August in 1965 on the east side of Berlin.
Again, this story currently takes place in 1963. So already this history has diverged from the information society has documented, and some form of continuity has been thrown out the window.
Currently, the Berlin Wall was the only structure Chloe could rely upon to get herself to the theatre.
And it was currently being used as leverage against the undead.
Thinking fast, her mind raced with decisions that ticked over one another as a new one was chosen. A new path to be met with a new obstacle to overcome.
It wasn't so much as applying her combat training as it was performing parkour.
Efficiency. Purpose. With little room for mistakes.
However, the most efficient route required information and knowledge of the area – to which she found she was unable to climb high enough to orientate herself, lest the undead block any path of escape.
She couldn't abruptly stop either.
So she kept running, feet hitting the asphalt below.
How many times had she run through raider encampments? Sprinted past super mutants who hadn't a second thought on what just went past them?
Not even her own Institute synths could catch up to her when she really pushed herself – unless, of course, she let them.
Which is when she looked back, noticing how far she had run ahead of the horde. Afraid they would lose interest as before, she began to willingly lose her pacing, if only to keep the group of hungry undead focused on her for longer.
That's where the wall came in handy.
Being the trained woman she was, it was hardly a surprise that she could handle the winding streets and narrow passageways of Berlin effectively just as she could the urban sprawl of Boston – this included its enemies.
Her slightly slower speed on the other hand allowed for certain undead to begin sprinting faster. She sliced the closest two through the torso, the flames alighting their rotting corpses with a gory smell of burned flesh. A nearby lamp post provided ample space for another assault on her faster pursuers, using the steel post to swing herself around and knock down another three sent stumbling back to the ground.
It was inevitable that she would lose her advantage if she continued in this fashion. Creating a tedious balancing act between offensive blows bouts and retreating. Her distance far enough away as to not to be hurt but close enough to ensure their undivided attention.
But tedium soon turned to boredom, as her own attention began slipping into the droning sounds from the rotting crowd trailing behind her.
For all the time she had been running there was not one person she had seen, not one person to talk to and asking for directions was far from an option – she knew what catastrophes could be caused among the populace.
She didn't dare wish to regress into her own mind at that thought, keeping her consciousness firmly front and centre. Focusing on leading the threat back to the theatre.
Of which, she needed to find first off.
Her vision took note of the large, half-built spire belonging to the TV tower, recognising the landmark as a waypoint. So, trained feet kept pushing herself forward, confident in the direction she was headed.
Question was, what would an old theatre-turned-secret-science facility even look like?
Answering her first question of many: Old.
Sadly, everything looked old.
Secretive.
She wondered what indication would even give such a place away? Doubting there would be any prominent markers or giveaways to begin with, it didn't help in finding the place one bit.
Ornate?
The inside had been quite lavish, therefore one could assume the exterior would be in a similar style.
If only she could work out to what level of ornateness the building came under... Surely some area held the city's state library and archives. If she could find out when the theatre was built, what materials were used in its construction, the signifying and most commonly used and/or applied patterns of the era – Identifying the building based solely on the construction of the facade would actually help her quite a bit now that she thought about it...
Her run turned to more of a jog.
The zombies unfortunately didn't follow suit, crashing her to the floor with a small yelp.
In her panic, she had somehow managed to grab her initial attacker whilst continuing in her momentum and slice its head clean off. Spinning crouched on her heels to rip through the strings of muscle and tendons of the next few sprinting toward her.
As she turned back around, her eyes caught sight of something... unusual.
A single flag, bearing the Nazi insignia, hanging limply from the side of the facade. It was quite hidden; having not taken kindly to the elements over the years, leaving it tattered and worn. If it were not for the cool night air stirring such ancient materials, she would have passed it by.
Then again, had it not been for the rather extravagant, blaringly light-laden marquee that protruded out from the front of the building she was currently looking for - as if the red trims and the massive black lettering of 'KINO' were not entirely enough of an indicator, well she wouldn't have exactly ran past that now, should she?
This was the right place.
She slowed herself right down, practically walking through the open doors, wishing she had rather stumbled in – if only to convey just how many undead there were behind her or to seem more out of breath than she really was.
Her sight immediately found The Doctor waiting, impatient and sporting a sneer to welcome her back.
"How nice of you to return to us, Chloe. Tell me, how are my pretty ones?" The Doctor's voice remained clipped and dripping with venomous intent.
She hopped over once she had reached the barrier as she had earlier that night, though with a little more haste, pretending to be more focused on dusting her trousers as she addressed the man in front of her.
"The zombies? They're fine. Just easily distracted by loud sounds and flashing lights. Might want to find a fix for that."
Not a second later the debris-covered barrier was packed with a swarm of bodies simultaneously descending on the opening.
If only to get themselves stuck.
There were too many to fit through all at once, though they did try their best.
As soon as one managed to wriggle itself free to meet with its end mere milliseconds after, another moved in to take its place.
Now, for Richtofen here, he had practically no time to deduce what occurred, as an exasperated "Oh, shut up." Brought his attention to the fire that had flared up over the ground and scampered onto the zombies.
A Molotov. Thrown directly at the mass of limbs and mutilated torsos all vying to get through the barrier.
From where Chloe had gotten it, a perplexed Richtofen did not know.
It took a minute or so to actually cause some damage, killing off many of the zombies engulfed in fire.
The two idly stood by.
Then the other damage began.
The red velvet seats and varnished mahogany began to smoulder. Then burn. Soon enough the seats and surrounding wooden entryway were lit aflame
Unfortunately this wood had not been under any sort of treatment to preserve its integrity. No thermal treating, nor pressure treatment. Not even chemically treated or irradiated.
"You do realise this theatre has been abandoned for decades therefore..." With The Doctor letting his implication drag out. Essentially, everything and anything inside of the theatre that could react with fire was more than likely susceptible to combust rather violently and spontaneously with the vast amounts of dust everywhere.
Her mouth deliberately formed the word "Yes." absently staring at the destruction as if it were an unwavering truth.
It was here the rest of the group caught on to the lack of gunfire and shouting, weapons drawn for combat against the problematic undead.
Only to find a fairly different issue.
"Okay. What the f*ck?" They heard Dempsey say from somewhere in the space behind them.
The heavy, uneven footfall of one in particular caught Chloe's attention.
In an instant, she had bolted past the marine to the bumbling figure of Nikolai trekking up the few steps from the aisle.
And when a loud, furious "Hey!" Erupted from the man's usually subdued grasp on reality, the rest of them knew she had touched his vodka bottle.
A moment passed as her gaze stared through the blaze, to which Chloe's form, barely a step away from Nikolai, slowly turned 'round to place the bottle fairly robotically back into the Russian's hand.
The drunk, though not taking too kindly to being deprived of his precious liquor, failed to register the situation as anything but theft. It took him a while second, bleary eyes attempting to grasp onto the indignity he wished to convey, only to lose that in favour of something more...clueless. It almost looked as if he were about to fall asleep whilst standing before he downed some of the bottle and spoke.
"Is it just me or is it getting hot in here?"
Right... The fire.
Everyone had been too flabbergasted to properly process what in the blazes was going on – And by everyone, it was mostly Dempsey and Nikolai.
Richtofen could have cared less; It wasn't his problem, though it was amusing, nonetheless.
A splash of water pulled them all from out of their stupor and back to the furniture in flames.
There the mighty Takeo Masaki stood, brandishing a saucepan of water that was quickly tipped onto what remained of the hazard.
"Who is responsible for this?" His voice was barely heard, but it's intent was clear.
Nikolai jabbed his finger at Chloe.
Dempsey pointed at Richtofen.
Richtofen turned to pointedly look at Chloe who in turn, he noted, was pointing back at him.
The shorter man remained unimpressed with them all.
The same way he was unimpressed with the zombie that abruptly stood up to yell in his ear, earning a large bonk from the saucepan to its face.
The zombie, now having been knocked around momentarily, stumbled up with a low growl, falling over the barrier only to lose its footing once more on the slick marble and plummet back to the floor.
It seemed the zombie... was dazed.
The group, as a collective, were heavily confused.
After a brief pause, Dempsey spoke up from his heavily bemused state "Should we... Put him with the others?"
The American was not given a response, so much as the act of Takeo dragging both him and the zombie out to where the other two undead were more securely tied up, to receive the same fate.
When the duo entered the building once more, the air had become a suffocating mix of anxiety and dread. It was a profound effect subjugating both the Marine and Samurai, but none so much as the Soviet soldier.
With his back pressed into the wall, hidden out of view from both scientists, he was crouched down into a ball.
Yet they heard nothing but the whispers of quiet chatter.
So why the hell was Nikolai so antsy? There was no shouting or the usual shrill voice from the Doctor to even worry about.
Even Takeo looked concerned enough to not bother throwing an insult the drunk's way.
A small glance between them, a clarification of intent, and they rounded the corner. Dempsey, taking the lead, was the first to see what lay ahead, lowering his weapon in shock.
A terrifying stalemate.
Richtofen, seething in an anger Tank had never seen, dangerously close to cutting the other's throat, who in turn, just so happened to have her own blade hooked around the back of his neck in retaliation.
Both figures were still, like a twisted diorama moments before one – or both – took the other's life.
Yet they were talking as if there was nothing foreign about anything the pair were engaged in; Utterly oblivious to anyone on the outside.
"Richtofen. We have taken care of the crawler." Takeo announced, voice wavering and equally as horrified as Dempsey.
To which, whatever dark aura had manifested around the scientists, was now focused onto them, heightening their already incomprehensible anxieties further.
Such a state of anxiety that it caused Tank to yank the communist to his feet, only furthering to rattle the man's already shaken nerves.
Chloe held up her forearm, abruptly unstrapping the Pip-Boy before holding it out for the Doctor. Silent but begrudging. Their gazes locked once more on one another until the doctor relented and snatched it from her. Both only now deciding to lower their weapons from one another.
The unease remained.
A couple sentences or two were exchanged before the Doctor wheeled around to face his less-than-competent allies.
"Stop looking at me!"
The start and volume of which he yelled made sure to send a shockwave of fear through the group's proverbial spine, even causing Nikolai to outwardly wince, settling the Doctor's rage into a mild annoyance.
"Upstairs. My office. Now." He spoke it as an order, refusing to address the woman directly.
Chloe however, remained firmly planted where she stood, watching in faint amusement as Richtofen stomped away without knowing exactly if she was following him or not. The man soon disappeared out of sight, never to be seen for probably another few hours.
She turned to the group of soldiers in front of her, "He's fine. Just a bit grumpy." As Chloe pretended to faux whisper the last part of the news to the others.
She stood quite happily for someone who was just recently mere inches away from decapitating the only man who knew anything of their situation. Her innocent, playful smile however, did not leave her desired reassuring effect.
Breaking her own silence, for personal concerns of creating more undetermined spikes in anxiety, she addressed the men, "I'll be in the main theatre area sorting out whatever we have left, if any of you need me." Happily Tottering past them and down the steps they had climbed earlier.
As their female ally went about to do whatever she was doing, Dempsey piped up with a, "Someone wanna help me out here? Maybe tell me what the hell just happened?" before turning around to the other two with him.
Takeo had already disappeared when he turned around and Nikolai gave a half-hearted shrug, muttering something about sleep, and more vodka.
He silently hoped things would be a bit quieter for the time being.
That was, 'til not a moment later, Dempsey's singular thought had been shattered.
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Ummm... Happy Halloween Folks? Only if you celebrate, of course.
This really came out of the blue, believe me it's been sitting in fragments of pieces for the past few months but it's here and I'm ready to move on to the next section of this ASAP.
Credits go to:
https://bioresources.cnr.ncsu.edu/resources/research-progress-and-prospects-of-wood-hight-temperatur-heat-treatment-technology/
https://extention.okstate.edu/fact-sheets/fundamental-aspects-of-heat-treated-wood.html
https://www.agriculture.gov.au/biosecurity-trade/import/goods/timber/approved-treatments-timber
For the reasons the theatre seating got singed. :)
--Alina out!