Archeia's Atheneum (The First Shift)

Episode Twelve: Faust

         

1945 AA2

Hexenkind woke one morning (in the communal cell as usual) and was perturbed to see that Gunther was not among the waning group. The soldiers had grown wise to Hexen's protective impulse, and wiry of fighting her whenever they needed Gunther. She suspected they'd try to take him while she slept, but she could only stave off exhaustion for so long. Hexen, forced to crouch near the cold iron bars, berried her knuckles in the mud, pressing them down with rage. It was all she could do. She hated the Nazis for taking Gunther--who was already so fragile. She hated herself too, for failing to protect him. The thought of what he might be going through made her shake with anger.

Three weeks passed since she and the orphans were taken, and already so much had changed. About a third of those taken were now dead. The appearances of the survivors were altered dramatically. Heads were shaved weekly--and without remorse: often leaving a multitude of cuts and gashes. Weight had been lost, as prisoners were fed once every three days. Hexen herself met her own sense of rage: since attacking the Nazi soldier, she felt the urge to hate increase regularly. In fact, there was seldom a day she didn't fantasize about murder. Her once grassy green eyes were darker, and tired purple circles began to form around them. This was on top of the lumps and bruises she acquired from beatings.

Of all these horrible things, however, the tests were wort of all. They varied, but all were cruel and almost designed to inflict excruciating pain. There was the ice bath: where they would tie your feet to the floor of a crude in-ground pool, then fill it with water and copious amounts of ice. You would stay there until they thought you were ready to come out. Electro-shock sessions were another way of testing. Yet another one was the poison trials, where they'd inject you with a series of toxins and other such chemicals. There were also fluid transfusions, where they'd replace your blood with another substance entirely. There was always the threat of being put through final surgery as well. This was when the scientists deemed you void of use, then began to test your body by seeing how it would react to the loss of certain parts; they'd remove limbs, sensory organs, sexual organs, and even vital organs if they saw it necessary. This, it seemed, inevitably awaited everyone.

When Gunther was taken last, Hexen didn't see him for the rest of that day--nor that night. She was ripped from sleep the following morning when a pair of soldiers dragged her from the filthy pen. On that day she was to engage in an electro-shock session. With no one to stand up for, and without energy to spend, Hexen came quietly. They helped her into the chair, they strapped her in, provided a piece of wood for her to bite down upon. Then they wet her temples and finally proceeded.

It was raining again when Hexenkind emerged from the garrison. Close to comatose, the same pair that dragged her in now dragged her back out to the pen. They threw her face down into the mud, closed the gate, and then went about their business. It took every ounce of effort, but Hexen eventually found the strength to pull herself up and lean against the bars. She could barely see, and her pounding headache made her numb to most anything. The rain helped, but as it showered her down it also chilled her to the bone.

Through her hazy vision, Hexen noticed a line of children and preteens being marched from the garrison. She was relieved to see Gunther with them, though he appeared quite defeated. The rubbed raw eyes and quivering pout he wore told Hexen he'd been hurt severely, and she recognized the method. The Hyper-Polar experiment required a group. The group was split in half. One half was rewarded with verbal praise and affection. The other half was berated and belittled for nearly an hour straight. Even in her groggy state, Hexen could see Gunther was part of the tormented group. She hadn't the means to express it, but she'd never been so livid. The Nazi Doctor who'd been running the garrison and the experiments had come out to inspect his subjects. He watched patiently as the soldiers lined them up, then he shouted to stop the line and to have those in it face him. One by one the Doctor called the children to him. He asked a question, maybe two, and looked them over. The boy or girl would then be frozen. The paralysis would came over them, and whatever fear resided in them was amplified when it did. The Doctor continued to ask questions of the child statues. Then blood began oozing from their pores. The man had some dark power, it was the only thing Hexenkind could think of to explain the horror. Tears streaming down her face, Hexenkind seethed all through the spectacle--until it was Gunther's turn. After he'd been killed, Hexen wasn't just numb--she'd seen so much death that she herself felt dead, if one can feel such a thing. It seemed like need had simply left her. She just was. This was not unnoted either; Hexenkind's new subdued manner proved useful--and during the course of several days she was subjected to twice the treatment.