[quote][i]If you're just now joining us...[/i] Updates are on page #1, #2, #3, #4, #5, and #6.[/quote] [quote]Loved this work? Enjoy writing (or art) yourself? You should check out [url=http://www.bungie.net/fanclub/literarygenius/group/GroupHome.aspx/]Literary Genius![/url][/quote] [quote][i]This is a work of fiction I have written concerning Call of Duty: World at War's "Zombies" mode. In this story I will describe my thoughts on a storyline that may exist, while making it an entertaining read. I will update this thread every day or two with a new part, so you won't have to wait long to read the next part. Enjoy![/i][/quote] [quote][b]Introduction...[/b][/quote] Raising the dead. Reanimating the deceased. These have been the fevered dreams of madmen and geniuses. Controlling those which can not be killed in an army to destroy their enemies. As the ranks of the confused and panicked enemy lessen, the ranks of the dead are bolstered. There would be no stopping them. Their need for rest, unknown. Their need for hunger, they have none. Their need for flesh, a craving desire. Their numbers... Near endless. What entire armies and weapons could not do, an army of those who have passed on could do in days. In a blitzkrieg, a lightning war. The perfect weapon. A wunderwaffe. They would be man's crowning achievement of destroying each other. A monument to all the years of advancing in weapons to kill man's enemies. They would be the beauty of annihilation. Many theorized after the second world war what the Germans had had in store. It had been proven for a long time that the Third Reich had commissioned experiments on nuclear warfare. But what else, exactly, had the -blam!-s been planning? Designing? Creating? Conspiracy theories of propulsionary flight, weapons capable of razing cities and rooting up entire armies. The discovery of lost journals and reports are still today giving more of an idea of what the Third Reich could've created, had the war not turned sour for them... [quote][b]December 13th, 1941...[/b][/quote] A plane flies high above the clouds. Its cargo: an experiment on the way to "the Giant." To a specific scientist who plans to utilize them to help turn the tide of the war, in the name of the Fuhrer. The plane had departed only just two hours ago, from a deep swamp on an uncharted island off the coast of Japan. The night is black as pitch. The winds are near gale-like, and the clouds have turned dark in threaten of a storm. Below, there are abandoned homes and structures. Old military outposts from Japan's spread into China, and burnt out hiding places where the fleeing Chinese had attempted to take refuge. Lieutenant Yager and Captain Amherst lounge quietly in the cockpit of the cargo plane. Yager reads a small book that he had withdrew from his coat pocket and Amherst held the controls of the plane, allowing it to glide through the air. Taking into consideration the highly serious and volatile cargo they were carrying, they were rather calm and nonchalant. Corporal Haswell sits on one of the seats attached to the lower wall in the small metal room that separates the cockpit from the rest of the ship. He rests his back against the wall, sleep clinging to him at the edges of his mind. He closes his eyes for a moment, to gain a little concentration and focus. Haswell thinks of home, and of the events that have taken place since he last saw his family. Were they still back in Germany? Had they evacuated? Were they still alive? These thoughts brought him no comfort. Haswell could not but fear for what may have happened to his family. They were unwanted. Undesirables of society. He had joined the army to hopefully throw off the trail and convince the Reich that his family was truly German. A feeling of discomfort and loneliness comes over Haswell as he clutches the Star of David hidden underneath his layers of clothes. Sleep clang to him, and he succumbed to it willingly... A clang of metal. Somewhere nearby, the twisting of steel seemed to screech through the depths of Haswell's mind as he jumped with a start, awakening from his slumber. He looked around, confused. The noise continued, louder now, as steel raked against some metallic surface like nails on a chalkboard. The cockpit hatch opened, Captain Amherst standing in the opening with a worried look on his face. In his hand, he held a Walther pistol, his finger brushing the trigger. Haswell jumped to his feet, and spoke hurriedly to Amherst in German, "What is it?" Amherst only rose his finger to his closed mouth, signaling him to be silent. Amherst made his way over to Haswell, and stood right in front of him. Amherst, a large man standing at 6' 3" and weighing 230 pounds, made Haswell pale in comparison, only standing at 5' 7", standing before the giant. Haswell looked into Amherst's eyes. They were filled with some sort of burning hatred. Haswell saw the fire that only filled the eyes of those few in the ranks of the German military forces that truly hated people of Jewish kin. They were the ones that truly believed every word Hitler spoke, and hated the Jews as much as their Fuhrer did. Haswell was shocked. How did Amherst know? He must know, there was no other explanation. Amherst pointed at the floor of the metal cabin. Haswell looked down, and the Star of David was there at his feet, looking up at him. The necklace must've fallen from his neck when he had fallen asleep holding it. He looked back up at Amherst, who had moved the sidearm up to Haswell's head. Haswell braced for the end. He knew it was over, that Amherst was about to fire the round through his skull and cause his brain matter to spew out all over the wall of the cabin. Amherst would land with Yager, and he would be decorated as a hero for eliminating the scheming Jude who had planned to sabotage the plane and cause the cargo to fail. All lies, but Amherst would tell it his way, and the others would believe him. Haswell would never see his family again, and would die hundreds of feet in the air, thousands of miles from home. However, in this shocking turn of events, both Amherst and Haswell had forgotten about the screeching metal. Haswell still didn't know what it was, but suddenly the thick steel door that sectioned off the cargo hold from the rest of the plane was torn open. A pair of bloodied hands ripped through the metal, grasping with sickly palms and shredded fingers. Open sores that had no blood running from them scattered across the backsides of the hands. More hands quickly joined the first pair as Amherst and Haswell looked on in terror. The hands grasped at open air, and continued to try to rip through the door with an inhuman fury. Bone-chilling moans and terrifying growls could be heard from the other side. Amherst knew immediately what had happened: The "experiments" who had been in the next room along with the other cargo had been bound to the walls by welded metal and put into cages. They must've broken free of their binds and begun seeking to quell their hunger by searching for the nearest living beings, those, unfortunately, being the three-men flight crew. Haswell was stuck in a shocked stupor, unable to move. He was rooted to the ground, only able to stare on at the evil that was clawing in to get at him. Amherst ran back through the slightly ajar hatch that led to the cockpit. "They're free! They're trying to break in!" He shouted in German. Yager turned and looked at Amherst, a horrified expression on his face. "What will we do?!" Amherst queried, still yelling in panic. Yager knew that he had to land the plane. The chances of making it to the ground were slim, but he still had to try. "We will land." He replied quietly, and turned back to the controls. From the other room, shots could be heard discharging from a Kar98k, a more or less standard bolt-action rifle that had been issued to Haswell for special cargo operations for use in situations just like this. Haswell shouted a cry of terror, and Amherst looked back through the open door. The monsters had broken through the metal door, and were shambling towards Haswell and the men in the cockpit. Haswell ran to the cockpit door, stopping only to glance at his Star of David before just barely avoiding one of the monster's flailing arms, and running into the cockpit. Amherst and Haswell sealed the thick metal door just before the first of the terrors could reach them. Haswell looked over at Amherst, who, even in this dire situation, glared at him with that same fiery hatred. Haswell attempted to avoid making further eye contact with Amherst. The monsters outside were banging and smashing on the door, trying to get in. Yager calmed himself, trying to focus on the plane's controls. "You may want to take a seat," he advised the two standing men. They quickly sat down where they could best manage a seat, and braced themselves. The plane began to dip, heading almost straight down. Through the cockpit window the clouds were moving quickly, evaporating from their sight as they sped out of them. The lightning from the storm had become, and they could see distant flashes of the light as they sped, ever faster, downward. Suddenly, a streak of hot lightning collided with the back end of the plane. The aircraft shook violently, throwing Haswell out of his seat and sending Amherst sprawling against one of the metal walls of the cockpit. Their downward descent became a chaotic spiral as the men were thrown around inside the cabin as the plane circled to the ground, falling out of the sky. The clouds and fog dissipated only two hundred feet from the ground, and they all got one good glance at the earth before they smashed into it. Everything went black. [Edited on 11.22.2009 2:55 PM PST]