The Secret of Area 51 (Part 1)
Collinton's side
Thud.
Thud.
"Heh, no idea why, but why's it such a mess only around the Elbe River?"
"Who cares, Philoff. We're here to collect Nazi tech and knowledge in the first place. Better if we don't draw eyes."
"You think I'm complaining? Of course not. I'm just saying it's this quiet because those commie trash bastards already swept through and took everything worth taking."
"Hm... yeah, that makes sense. Those fuckers, no matter how much the Krauts—that's what we called the Germans since World War I, from 'cabbage' in their lingo, a slur for their empire's soldiers—screwed them over, they've gone batshit crazy about it. By now, they might be charging at our GIs and the Brits along the Elbe without even checking who we are."
"Eyes front. Cut the chatter."
"Yes, sir!!"
"You see that ruin ahead?"
"Yes, sir."
"Intel says the entire Nordhausen area is riddled with secret Nazi underground military bases and research facilities. Dictatorships need ironclad armies for oppression, so it's no surprise they'd deceive their own people and run unethical experiments here. And even if not, they claimed to just exile or imprison opposing Aryans, but with the Holocaust against Jews and T4 against the disabled exposed, it's clear they didn't spare 'fellow' Aryans either."
"Right. Still, they'd prioritize them over other races for higher success rates or critical national experiments, figuring them superior."
"Exactly. If it works, super soldiers down the line. And now... it's all ours."
"Hell yeah! Let's go!!!"
"That's the spirit. Lead on, Melkatin. I'll follow, packing the goods. Chris, handle comms and med. Philoff, perimeter sweep. Join us inside in exactly ten minutes if clear. Then hand comms back to Chris."
"Sir? Why wait ten?"
"If we draw enemy eyes and get hit hard, we're dead. Act like a lost soul wandering till then—they'll assume coincidence if they spot you, no need to rush traps outside. They know better than anyone how dangerous this place might be."
"Got it."
Collinton led his men into the ruins.
What welcomed them was fortune... and misfortune intertwined.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Hummmmm.
"What the hell's that?"
"I... dunno?"
Pale, murky vapors drifted toward them.
"KRAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
BOOM.
"Gah!!!!"
Clang.
Clang.
"Ugh... my... my ears..."
"F-fuck... what... what are those monsters?!"
But I stayed calm, peering through binoculars before barking orders.
"Listen up! Those things convert everything around them to their own composition! Each particle in their bodies forms a unified entity with self-awareness, acting independently! No close quarters. Even our firepower might just bloat their corpses, spreading the contamination faster if we shock them dead! Keep distance, herd them into tight spots! Their aware cores and inert mass differ—they can't just phase through. In a swarm, they'll clump and self-destruct. They float too."
"Roger!!!"
"Move, fast!!!"
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
RUMBLECRASH.
"Shit!!! Entrance collapsing!!!"
BOOM.
"Dirt's coming in!!!!"
"Upper level breached. To the opposite passage! We'll be crushed here!!"
"Yes, sir!!!!"
Pant-pant-dash.
'Even with those monsters, if their matter hasn't surfaced yet, how vast are these underground labs? Flight means the interior might be intact. Weapons against them could be deeper in. Hope this isn't one-way. They're chasing—means we're on track.'
"Whoa, check this!!!"
"Wh-what...? This gun?!"
"Dunno..."
"Only one way—test it! Could be Nazi masterpiece! Spotless too!"
"Agreed. Fire while retreating!!"
"Yes!!!"
That instant, the so-called Strange Zombies swarmed the site.
KABOOM.
"KRAAARGH!!!"
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Their savage gnashing teeth scrambled minds in seconds. Painless, they forced through the narrow entrance by brute force.
RUMBLECRASH.
"Argh, damn it!!!!"
Crash.
"Chris!!!"
Shockwave hurled Chris backward at the worst moment. The Strange Zombies pounced, ripping at his leg.
"Eat this!!!!"
VROOOOOOM.
BLAAAAAST.
"KWEeeeeK!!!!!"
Shatter-shatter-shatter.
Melkatin flinched, eyes shut, squeezing the trigger full-force—then released. A massive circular beam lanced forward, pulverizing the Strange Zombies in one sweep.
"KRAAAAK!!!!"
"It... it works on 'em!!!"
Strange Zombies were fermionic quark matter—strange quarks—not bosonic energy. Pure boson blasts from up/down quark weapons struck true.
"Good! Weapons and blueprints everywhere! Grab every one—no exceptions! Melkatin, Chris, Philoff! Arm up, sweep those monsters mercilessly!"
"Yes, sir!!"
"Out of this hell!"
KABOOM.
We all gauged the weapons' power quick. No more Nazi or zombie paths—we blasted ceilings, walls, forging our route. Strange Zombies lunged endlessly, but wall-bound, they couldn't match our obstacle-ignoring rampage.
Shooooom.
KWABOBOBOOM.
"KWEeeeeK!!!!"
Ziiiiing.
Snap.
"Eat this!!!"
I sliced bulkheads with lasers, carving paths—then sealed edges to fake dead ends. Melkatin, Philoff, Chris followed: twisting mazes, sealing hordes inside, flash-freezing surfaces near absolute zero with cryo guns to lock the strange matter. Outgunned, outmaneuvered, tricked—they flailed, encased in ice, gravity devices dragging them to gravity shell casters for hyper-compression and storage.
'Not total idiots—they don't just charge. Can't wipe 'em all fast, so lure into sealed spots to starve. Later, request Curtis LeMay nuke 'em frozen solid. I'm just a volunteer private now, but Lennox prestige endures. A 37-year-old general knows the Diagrams of Mystery.'
Ray guns, beam rifles, cryo emitters, plasma guns, railguns, chain HV shockers, body amps, grav-shell launchers, grav controllers—Nazi superweapons and blueprints, all snatched for survival. Through brutal melee, we escaped the ruins.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
"Everyone good?"
"Yes, Captain."
"Mission success. Report to HQ, evac now. We could win fights, but these aren't ours to keep forever."
"Right. For the homeland now."
"If we drew too much heat, trackers might assassinate us later."
"Exactly."
From Nordhausen ruins, laden with treasures, we rushed home. Curtis LeMay iced the site like a serial killer fooling forensics—pristine from the start. U.S. handed Soviets the gutted husk to soothe blood-debt gripes. Superweapons and blueprints went to Area 51—Groom Lake Air Force Base—for study. Director? Naturally, me: West Collinton Lennox, Lennox family head.
America advanced unchecked in prosperity. But here, rift grew: me, the real power, and the government, mere symbol—communication failed.