wtorek, października 28, 2008
Today.. bis
Al menos no esta tan mal mi vida.
Today in 1942, a 2-man german patrol is walking through a farm near Novgorod after it was shelled, looking for russian resistance fighters. The pair has been on constant recon duty for the last 30 hours, and are becoming extremely on-edge from the lack of sleep and the constant threat of russian suprise attacks in this frozen wasteland. they happen across a small shack with 2 dead horses, 1 dead cow, and 1 unidentifiable mass that looks like it took a near-direct hit from an 88MM shell lying amongst the craters. thinking the tiny cottage a likely place for a resistance cell, they investigate. there on the dirt floor they find a man and his wife huddled together. Emaciated and hypothermic, with naught but a large canvas sack keeping them from the russian winter, they are nearing death. the patrolmen remain on edge with guns drawn, expecting an ambush. slowly the russian man notices the intruders and, recognizing their uniforms, leaps to his feet and begins to assualt one of the soldiers. he works his frail arms with the last of his strength as his shrunken fists glance off the soldier's frame, as he shouts all the while in russian that the twisted blob outside is their 7-year old son, who was reduced to red mist and fragmented chunks before their eyes as they all dove for cover in the shelling. the soldier is filled with a mixture of pity and revulsion at these pathetic untermenschen, until the russian man knees him in the crotch. at that point the soldier and his friend lose all ties to sanity and the madness that had been brewing in them for the last day and a half takes hold. the soldier who had been struck threw the man to the ground, shattering his wasted-away hip in the process, and instructed his compatriot to keep the pair on the ground at gunpoint while was gone. stepping out of the shack, the soldier strides over to the uprooted fence and cuts 4 lengths of barbed wire out. returning, he places the pair on their stomachs, looking at each other, and binds their hands and feet with the stuff, making sure to pierce their paper-thin flesh at every opportunity. The soldiers begin with the man, beating every inch of him they can find, and cutting off just enough fingers to ensure he stays awake and in pain. they shatter his bones. they take an eyeball. It would have been both, but for the soldier's partner suggesting they leave one in so the man could see what happened next. Next, of course, referred to the woman. to call her rape brutal is to call a solar flare a power surge. no orifice was spared, and the soldiers took a mad glee in their work, sodomizing and penetrating her withered body until they were satisfied. As they prepared to leave, the assaulted soldier took one had one more cruel surprise in store. Whispering curses into the man's ear for his brash mouth against the Wermacht's finest, he promised him he would never be afforded that opportunity again, and slashed his throat with the edge of his spade. The soldiers gone, the man lay looking into the eyes of his sobbing bride, struggling and gasping, trying to get one last "I love you" out before the blood loss got to him. With a final, desperate gurgle his body went slack, and the life continued to pour from his throat. the woman lay sobbing uncontrollably for hours, wishing for an end to her existence. little did she know, that end was coming sooner than she thought. Night was coming, and the local wolves hadn't eaten in weeks.
undedo at 23:07