In Hell Itself

Silence reigned supreme at the scene of the flayed corpse. Blood flowed on the hard floor, slowly inching its way towards the entrance. It glistened a crimson in the half light. The blood looked almost beautiful, in a perverse, twisted sense. What was not beautiful was where it came from. The sound of rapidly spoken Russian broke silences reign. The voice was pleading, begging. This was an obvious sign that the SS personnel were still carrying on with their “interrogation.”

Hans dragged a bleary eyed Fritz out the door. Rainbow Dash rushed after them, confused. Why were they leaving? If she were Hans, she would confront those jerks and tell them exactly what she thought of them. Why wasn’t Hans doing anything? Maybe she would tell whoever was in charge of them, get them punished. Surely they weren’t all like that! Hans only smiled bitterly at Rainbow Dash’s proclamation.

“Tell their commanding officer? He would reward them for a job well done. Do you even know who he is? Right. Of course not. Their commander is SS-Oberfuhrer Dieter Heinrich, the Butcher of Stalingrad. Believe me, he ordered them to do this,” Hans sighed.

“Dieter Heinrich? But why would he order them to do something like this?”

“I met Oberfuhrer Heinrich once. I am convinced that he isn’t human. At least with the other SS you can see some sort of joy or life while they carry out their work, and can actually be decent during down time. But Heinrich is different. He has no emotion. His eyes look dead…and his smiles, well, let me say that he smiles like a wolf.”

“Wouldn’t his commander be against that?”

“Against Heinrich? Gott, no! In their eyes, he is an exemplary Aryan and officer, an example for Germans everywhere. They like his efficiency, his willingness. He isn’t held back by morals. He totally embodies the values of the Third Reich, to the point where they think that he was born a perfect Nazi.”

Rainbow Dash shuddered at that. Hans had explained the Nazi ideology to her, from “Beyond Good and Evil,” to “survival of the fittest,” and the concept of being better than others. The Nazis believed that they were the fittest, and that everyone else was worthy only of death or slavery. Their belief was centered completely around militarism and conquest.

It was painfully apparent to Rainbow that this world was nothing like Equestria. In Equestria, the worst anypony had ever gotten was Discord, and stuff like that only happened every few millennia according to Twilight. Here, war and death was the status quo. Peace was simply a front for preparing for war. This world, according to Hans, was in a constant state of unrest and conflict. That the humans had survived for so long was a testament to their spirit.

It was hard to believe the sheer ability of the Humans. They could level entire cities and kill thousands with ease. They had become so efficient in killing that they could blow off someone’s head from several meters away. It was terrifying. It was barbaric, to use Rarity’s terminology, the only thing that fit. Rainbow Dash had though that Discord was bad, but he didn’t hold a candle up to humans. All he had done was basically pranked the ponies.

Fritz had pulled out a map, and was speaking to Hans in German. He was gesturing to various points marked on it. They were some distance from the shelter that the SS had commandeered, and the sky was already dark. Fritz was using a lighter to illuminate the paper. Hans was gesturing to other locations, presumably German posts.

“”

Fritz opened his mouth to respond to Hans, but was cut off by a loud bang. He stood there for a moment, eyes wide in shock. Blood sprayed wildly. There was a large hole in the side of his head, and another in his throat on the other side. He sank to his knees gasping as Hans spun around in confusion. Rainbow Dash threw herself to the ground. Another loud bang, and Hans was spun backwards, a hole opening in his arm. Hans grunted, gritting his teeth against the obvious pain. His grey uniform was stained with blood, both Fritz’s and his own.

A door was thrown open and khaki uniformed soldier strode out. Rainbow Dash couldn’t see clearly, but she though she saw a red star on his lapel. This had to be a Russian. Hans whipped out his pistol to defend himself. The Russian crushed his hand under a heavy boot, forcing another pained grunt out of Hans. The Russian then withdrew his own pistol, and with eyes full of malice and hatred, took aim at Hans head.

A million thoughts went through Rainbow’s mind. What could she do? What should she do? Hans was her friend, at least, she thought so. However, she couldn’t just attack the Russian could she? The Russian was going to kill the only person she knew around here. She couldn’t allow that to happen. She wouldn't allow that to happen.

She made a rash, split second decision like all the others she had operated upon in her life. She threw herself at the Russian. Rainbow Dash could go at massive velocities on short notice, and the sheer force and momentum of the blow sent the Russian headfirst into a wall. There was a loud crack, and the Russian’s head lolled limply.

Hans had regained his footing, grimacing as he clutched the wound in his arm. It was a flesh wound, he believed. At this point, what he needed to be worried about was the possibility of Gangrene from infection. He quickly bound the wound with a field dressing. He finally turned towards Rainbow Dash, who was trembling with shock. She was staring at the Russian, whose neck was snapped. Hans had seen the look before, and had likely worn it himself at some point. The look never lasted long.

“I…I…I…killed someone! How could I do that? How? Oh Sweet Celestia, I killed someone.”

Hans had said something similar the first time he had killed. He could only say what he had been told by his superior.

“You’ll get used to it.”

He turned to Fritz's body. He closed Fritz's eyes almost reverently, mourning the loss of yet another friend. He had lost to many to count. With his eyes closed, Fritz looked like he was sleeping, almost peaceful. The bullet wound was the only thing that detracted from the illusion.

"" Hans choked, his voice betraying the weight his soul felt.

Tears refused to come. Hans had already cried too many tears over dead comrades.