The Ace of Spades

Chapter 1: So it Begins

Map: A day before Origins, Northern France
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As soon as the German scientist heard the click of their pistols overhead, his mind began to spin again.

He just killed his best friend...

Shaking, He put his saw blade down on the dissection table and studied the fresh blood that peppered his hands and arms. He wanted to vomit.

The body of Doctor Ludvig Maxis lay in front of him. His best friend. His father figure. The one who taught him to crawl out of his shell, to stop hiding. The one who gave him the courage he needed all those years ago. He was dead. And he had killed him.

He swallowed a sob that dangled at the back of his throat and peered up at the men. On the far right stood a dark-skinned Japanese, his freehand hovering over a katana by his belt. There was a freckled man in the middle, with a growl smeared on his lips and a fierce fire in his eyes, the beginnings of a beard dusting his cheeks. On the left wobbled a Russian, a scruffy goatee prickled at his chin and a helmet with goggles strapped at the top. They all had their guns aiming right at him and they were caked in blood and grime.

Was he a threat?

Of course he was.

The Japanese was the first to slowly lower his gun as he cautiously made his way to the German, his boots gracefully gliding over debris. The Russian and the freckled man shared looks as the Japanese put his hand on the scientists shoulder at gave it a pat. The German then hunched over and allowed himself to cry.

The freckled man coughed awkwardly, sliding his gun in his belt and made his way to the Jap and the German, motioning for the Russian to follow. The scientists cries were like desperate calls, hollow sirens for help. It sounded like it had been stuck inside him for a very long time. As he got closer to the dissection table, he peered at the zombified body laying there stiffly, he grew lightheaded at the sight,
"Oh shit dude, where's the guy's brain?"

The German rubbed at his reddened eyes, still bent over from crying, he didn't look at the freckled man, nor the body, he just remained staring at the floor, breathing heavily,

"I had to I had to I had to! I had to store his brain. he-he told me to. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I had to!" He sputtered, more talking to himself than the others. He crossed him arms over his chest to hug himself as he shuddered. The Jap knitted his eyebrows in sympathy as the freckled man got a better look at the body. The top of his head was completely sawed off and the brain had been messily dissected, the scalpels and scissors strewn across the table in a fit of despair. Damn... What the fuck...

The Russian swiped at his crooked nose and kicked at the floor with the scruff of his boot,

"Nikolai does not know names. We should exchange names before anything," he looked up curiously at their blank stares, wondering what he said that was so strange, "isn't that what people do...? You know like... introductions?" He asked. The Freckled man shook his head as he laughed, "not in these situations, no," his American accent was strong and he had a warm, deep voice, "Tank Dempsey."

Nikolai smiled at tank, the corners of his eyes crinkling, "Nikolai is... Nikolai," he shrugged. His voice was gruff life a bear's and his face had a permanent I-could-beat-your-ass-at-any-time look on it.

The Jap sighed, straightening his posture, "Takeo Masaki. I serve the emperor," his almond-shaped eyes peered over to Tank and Nikolai, his expression serious and stern, as if it were saying, 'I have no time for idiots'.