Several disappearances and unexplained events have been registered shorty after the commercialization of an ancient statue linked to some legends from a mysterious place called "Reich der Finsternis" in eastern Germany, there is no know route leadin...
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Entrance to the Death Factory - PART 1
The German agents had successfully infiltrated the area, allowing several members of the police command access. They took advantage of the fact that both the electrified fence surrounding the compound, and the watchtowers were no longer operational. The place resembled a housing complex that seemed to have been built during the darkest decades of the twentieth century. As Liz had predicted, there was a backup generator supplying power to the interior, but by then, most of the equipment was already inside the death factory.
The camp's entrance had been cleared, allowing her and the German officers to enter without major obstacles. However, they were well aware that getting out could prove difficult if things went wrong. For Liz, though, that wasn't an option. Most of the camp was shrouded in darkness, an oppressive silence that hinted only at death. The only sounds that broke the eerie quiet were the unintelligible mutterings of beings who had barely retained any traces of humanity—these noises were enough to send the agents into a strange state of agitation, some even teetering on the edge of delirium.
The perimeter was lined with aging red-brick buildings arranged in long, symmetrical rows. Small windows with metal bars gave off a sense of confinement. Chimneys rose from the slate roofs. Many of the walls were cracked and stained with the wear of time, suggesting the place wasn't new—more like something that had been built right after the Holocaust. On the opposite sides of the compound, smaller, less imposing gray structures were visible.
Whenever she found herself in a new part of Reich der Finsternis, she couldn't help but think of the afternoons spent with her brother Rick, who was passionate about history. She still had the war soldier figurines, the armored horses, and tanks she'd collected as a child. Some of those figures had been gifts from their grandfather, who, at Rick's insistence, would tell them about his experiences as a soldier in the British Army and his involvement in the liberation of Bergen-Belsen. The stories of overcrowding, malnutrition, and unsanitary conditions that led to disease outbreaks were horrifying, but somehow, they seemed trivial compared to the horrors they were about to face.
The watchtower lights swept across the area, and Liz and Nick hid behind an old camper, waiting for a signal from Andreas and Tobias to move forward.
"Deisler," Tobias's voice crackled through the radio. Before responding, Nick scanned the perimeter, making sure no one could hear him.
"I copy, Fritz," he replied, while Liz remained hidden, pistol in hand. "What's the status of the area?"
"We've secured the watchtowers," Tobias answered. "They'll be safe as long as the soldiers on the ground don't notice them."
Liz peeked through the camper windows. Most of the soldiers wore silver and white Venetian-style masks, contorted into grotesque expressions of glee and perversity. Others didn't wear masks at all. Their faces were grotesquely disfigured by twisted experiments—acid burns, bulging eyes, and rotting skin grafted in patches. They carried weapons typical of World War II, but given their physical condition, they seemed incapable of uttering a word.
