![](https://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/mybb18/images/reksio/flecha.png)
[Your challenge is to write crossover fan fiction combining World War II and Silent Hill. The story should use a plague as a plot device!] …(What the crap? This has some potential…)
(End…not even going to proof it.)
Show Content
SpoilerThe air was thick with the smell of expired gunpowder and blood. Larry was stuck, lying down on his stomach behind a desk in the front lobby of a half demolished, bombed hotel. All around him, he could hear the agonizing sounds of soldiers dying, and the occasional gunshot. Many of the less pained shouts were in German.
Larry was trapped, and he knew sooner or later, he was going to be found. With how brutal this band of Germans was, he knew it would be the end. Larry’s squad didn’t even know where they had come from. They had just finished clearing the area when they were attacked. These German’s were anything but normal. Their faces were smeared in dark, brown paint. He was sure it was blood. They screamed sadistically as they attacked, not with their guns, but with knives. They took far too many shots before they went down. It was as if they were pumped with adrenaline and speed, and sent at the Americans like crazed, rabid dogs.
The front wall of the hotel had fallen in, leaving only the structural beams holding some of the place up. From his hiding spot, Larry could see from a very small crack between the beat up desk, and a large chunk of rebar and concrete. He could make out one of his comrades a few dozen yards ahead of him, but couldn’t well make out which of his partners it was. A haunting, thick fog had set in over the general vicinity, making it impossible to make out friend or foe within twenty feet of oneself. He could hear him groaning pathetically. It almost made Larry want to shoot the man himself, but he knew that would give away his position.
A few moments passed, and Larry could hear the German voices picking up in volume. They sounded excited and gruff. Soon two misty forms came into vision, coming closer to Larry’s fallen buddy. He watched as one of them squatted beside him, muttering quietly. The other went about rolling him over onto his back. Once they had him rolled over, the first one lifted his arms into the air, calling out in German.
“Zu unserem Gott, bieten wir Ihnen das Leben unseres Feindes an! Wir wachsen stark mit seinem Tod. Dein Kommen wird bald!â€Â
With that, the second plunged his massive knife into Larry’s comrade’s chest. There was a short jerk from the man, and a shrill scream. Both of the German’s laughed and hollered terribly and psychotically as they cut the American’s heart from his chest, holding it high above their heads as a prize.
And then…Larry could only guess they were eating it. Eating his partner’s heart. They tore at it viciously, laughing the whole while...
Larry couldn’t take it. He flipped. Terrified, disgusted, and mentally disturbed, he jumped from his hiding place, taking his Garand to the backs of the two german’s heads. He couldn’t well make it out, but the first man’s head seemed to jolt oddly as he was shot through the back of the neck. No way he would be getting back up from a shot like that. As the first crumpled over on top of the american’s body, the second man let out a shrill scream, holding his knife high. Larry screamed back in response, his rifle helping him project his voice with the blasting sound of gunfire.
As the second German fell to his knees, he cried out in German, and then crumpled onto his stomach, still.
Larry had no time to contemplate what had just happened. The sound of more voices came to his ears. He sprang over the desk, his body pumped with adrenaline. He was terrified. He ran. He had to get out of the zone. He had to get away from these psycho’s.
As Larry ran, the fog felt thicker and thicker, as if it were clouding his way of escape from him. The howling voices of the german psychopaths did not falter. They stayed the same distance, but Larry could never see exactly where they were. The fog was so thick now, that Larry could almost feel it grabbing at his hands and face as he ran, trying to slow him down.
And then, things got worse. The air raid sirens started blaring. Larry’s mind could not even register everything going on around him. He knew he had to find a place to hide. He prayed that the Germans could not see him through this fog. Barely ahead of him, Larry could make out the shape of a building. It was mid day, and everything seemed to be getting darker suddenly. How had so much time passed already? What was going on? With the siren’s howling, the germans screaming, and seemingly nightfall approaching, Larry made for the building, too scared to think of anything else. If it was only a few of the crazy germans, Larry could pick them off inside of the building…
As Larry rushed into the building, he felt his feet lose traction on a slick, wet floor. He felt his body give way underneath him, and his head jolted against the floor. For a moment, his world was blurred. The sirens continued to sound, but the german’s voices had faded away. Perhaps they feared for what was coming?
As Larry regained himself, he tried to pull himself to his feet. His gloves slid on the tacky floor. Pulling his hand up, he looked down. The entire floor was made of steel plate, rusted with wear and age. Larry’s hair raised on end as he saw what was on the floor that had made him slip. Fresh, tacky blood. Larry panicked, sliding back away from the bloody pool in front of where the door had been. Oh god, the door. The door was gone. Had he run further than he thought? Larry realized he was now in the middle of a hallway. But he had just barely made it into the buildings front entrance.
Finally, Larry managed to get to his feet. He could still hear the sirens, loud as ever. Oddly enough, he had yet to hear any planes flying overhead. He wanted to find a room to hide himself in. Larry wasn’t a coward, but he had definitely seen enough today to leave the poor man in a sorry, dreaded state. He was only twenty, and no amount of experience, or boot camp could have prepared him for the terror he’d seen today.
Nor would any of it prepare him for what he would see…
Nervously, Larry got out his mag-light, holding it under his garand as he stepped down the hall. The light showed walls that were made of a hodge-podge of material, mostly disgusting, dirty sheets nailed to plywood, and metal mesh grating. Heavy looking metal doors went down the hall every twenty yards or so. The closest door had a small plate next to the door, with the room number ‘205’ etched into it. The door was coated in a heavy coat of rust, and what looked like splotches of blood… What was this horrible place?
Larry tried the door closest to him. The door handle was so rusted over, that he could never have hoped to budge it. Continuing down the hall, he was met to much the same situation; doors rusted shut, or simply unable to be opened. The entire hall smelled musty and stagnant, mixed with a smell of rust, and a little bit of rot.
There was a sudden, loud scraping sound coming from down the hall, from around the corner. Larry listened for a moment, until he heard a voice. A muttered, guttural, yet feminine voice that spoke English, with a mild russian accent.
“Ring around…the rosey…Pocket full of posies… Asssshes…Asssshes… They all…fall…DOWN.†With the last word, the scraping turned into a deafening crash, and a piercing, squealing shriek filled the hallway. Above the shrieking, the voice boomed, echoing down the hall. “Husssh, my baby. Husssh. Everything will be over. Be ssstill now. Ssstill…†The shrieking was muffled then into covered whimpers and moans. There was a sharp, sickening cracking sound, and the whimpering stopped. “Give to me your life…and to you, I give forever peace~â€Â
Larry was terrified, and frozen in that terror. He could only imagine what terrible happenings were taking place around the corner. After a moment of silence, he could hear gross, squishing sounds, and a grinding, crunching sound…They made his stomach wrench.
And then, her voice came again. “Jussst…stay right there…I promissse…you won’t wait long…We will be together sssoon…†And then, she was giggling. A crazed, hysterical giggle. And Larry realized that his flashlight was still shined in the general direction of the turn in the hall...
He knew she was speaking to him. He just knew it. He reeled around, stumbling in sheer panic as he ran in the opposite direction. He tried every door he came to in the hall. Behind him, he could hear the woman’s bizarre giggling, mixed with the sound of tearing, scraping metal.
Larry’s body sagged against the steel door as it slammed shut behind him. He only waited a moment before trying to bar the door with whatever he could find in the room. As luck would have it, he had found what had one likely been a lounge room. He shoved a couch and table against the door, hoping that it would keep it closed.
Then he just sank to the floor and sat there. He just sat there, covering his face with his hands, crying. What was he going to do? How had he gotten here? What in God’s name was going on? This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of it made any sense.
Larry slowly regained his composure as best as he could. He got to his feet, looking around the room for anything that might help him. There were some supplies on a long counter in the back of the room. There was a first aid kit, a few dry rations, an ammo box, and a tool box with a crowbar on top of it. As well, there was a large radio pack lying on the counter, that had obviously belonged to another American, what with the tags and sewn on patches. Larry decided to check it. He started trying to find a frequency that might have someone to help him on it.
“This is PFC Larry Harkins with the 5th. Can anybody hear me? Repeat, this is PFC Larry Harkin’s. Anyone?â€Â
Just as he had asked, the radio responded with a bizarre, shrill static. For a moment, he could hear the recent, familiar voice of that mildly Russian accented woman. Her voice was much more delicate and childish over the radio, though it was hard to tell either way through the mild static.
“Ring around…the rosey. Pocket full of…posies~†She didn’t finish the rhymn. Instead, she stopped, giggling in the radio. “Mister? Come out come out~ We need…to play more. Pleassse…†It was as if her voice began to distort over the radio, back into that guttural, hissing voice. “Pleassse…play with me~â€Â
Outside, Larry could hear what sounded like bare feet stepping along the metal floor outside. The problem was that it was much too loud from inside the room. Larry practically held his breath as the footfalls stopped for a moment, and the radio buzzed menacingly with a strange, groaning static.
“You want to play hide and ssseek…?†She giggled through the radio. “Okay~ we’ll be together sssoon…So soon mister…Jussst…wait…They’re waiting for us.†The footfalls continued to pad down the hall, more quickly now. As they disappeared, so did the static in the radio set.
Larry kick started his breath, as though he had been forgetting to inhale. His stomach churned nauseatingly as he doubled over, nearly vomiting all over the already filthy floor. He had to calm down. He had to get out of this. He had to get out of this building.
Larry returned to the counter top after his nerve wracking panic attack, looking through the supplies he’d found. The toolbox had a few general tools: a roll of duct-tape, a hammer, wire-cutters, a few nails, a monkey wrench, a file, and two screw drivers. Phillips and flat-bladed. The first aid kit had pain killers, tourniquet, bandages, and antibiotic ointment. Somehow, they were all in almost immaculate condition, despite everything else in the room being covered in grime and rust.
Hastily, Larry loaded the first aid kit and rations into his nearly empty pack. His squad hadn’t been meant to stay out here long, so he had plenty of room. He pulled the tape out of tool box, taping his flashlight to the front of his M1. Once finished, the toolbox went into his pack as well. He dug through the case of ammo; all .30-06 rounds. He loaded as many as he could into blank en bloc clips. The rest of the box went into his pack with everything else.
But what about the radio pack? He wondered if it would be of any use to him. All it seemed to do was play that creepy static. Now though, there was only a very mild static coming from it… But what if he found his way out? He would want to be able to call for help if he could get outside. Maybe it was just this crazy building, killing the radio waves.
It was time to find a way out of this hell-hole, and Larry wasn’t going to take any chances. He felt like there was going to be little luck out of this building, but he desperate. He wanted to live.
Larry was trapped, and he knew sooner or later, he was going to be found. With how brutal this band of Germans was, he knew it would be the end. Larry’s squad didn’t even know where they had come from. They had just finished clearing the area when they were attacked. These German’s were anything but normal. Their faces were smeared in dark, brown paint. He was sure it was blood. They screamed sadistically as they attacked, not with their guns, but with knives. They took far too many shots before they went down. It was as if they were pumped with adrenaline and speed, and sent at the Americans like crazed, rabid dogs.
The front wall of the hotel had fallen in, leaving only the structural beams holding some of the place up. From his hiding spot, Larry could see from a very small crack between the beat up desk, and a large chunk of rebar and concrete. He could make out one of his comrades a few dozen yards ahead of him, but couldn’t well make out which of his partners it was. A haunting, thick fog had set in over the general vicinity, making it impossible to make out friend or foe within twenty feet of oneself. He could hear him groaning pathetically. It almost made Larry want to shoot the man himself, but he knew that would give away his position.
A few moments passed, and Larry could hear the German voices picking up in volume. They sounded excited and gruff. Soon two misty forms came into vision, coming closer to Larry’s fallen buddy. He watched as one of them squatted beside him, muttering quietly. The other went about rolling him over onto his back. Once they had him rolled over, the first one lifted his arms into the air, calling out in German.
“Zu unserem Gott, bieten wir Ihnen das Leben unseres Feindes an! Wir wachsen stark mit seinem Tod. Dein Kommen wird bald!â€Â
With that, the second plunged his massive knife into Larry’s comrade’s chest. There was a short jerk from the man, and a shrill scream. Both of the German’s laughed and hollered terribly and psychotically as they cut the American’s heart from his chest, holding it high above their heads as a prize.
And then…Larry could only guess they were eating it. Eating his partner’s heart. They tore at it viciously, laughing the whole while...
Larry couldn’t take it. He flipped. Terrified, disgusted, and mentally disturbed, he jumped from his hiding place, taking his Garand to the backs of the two german’s heads. He couldn’t well make it out, but the first man’s head seemed to jolt oddly as he was shot through the back of the neck. No way he would be getting back up from a shot like that. As the first crumpled over on top of the american’s body, the second man let out a shrill scream, holding his knife high. Larry screamed back in response, his rifle helping him project his voice with the blasting sound of gunfire.
As the second German fell to his knees, he cried out in German, and then crumpled onto his stomach, still.
Larry had no time to contemplate what had just happened. The sound of more voices came to his ears. He sprang over the desk, his body pumped with adrenaline. He was terrified. He ran. He had to get out of the zone. He had to get away from these psycho’s.
As Larry ran, the fog felt thicker and thicker, as if it were clouding his way of escape from him. The howling voices of the german psychopaths did not falter. They stayed the same distance, but Larry could never see exactly where they were. The fog was so thick now, that Larry could almost feel it grabbing at his hands and face as he ran, trying to slow him down.
And then, things got worse. The air raid sirens started blaring. Larry’s mind could not even register everything going on around him. He knew he had to find a place to hide. He prayed that the Germans could not see him through this fog. Barely ahead of him, Larry could make out the shape of a building. It was mid day, and everything seemed to be getting darker suddenly. How had so much time passed already? What was going on? With the siren’s howling, the germans screaming, and seemingly nightfall approaching, Larry made for the building, too scared to think of anything else. If it was only a few of the crazy germans, Larry could pick them off inside of the building…
As Larry rushed into the building, he felt his feet lose traction on a slick, wet floor. He felt his body give way underneath him, and his head jolted against the floor. For a moment, his world was blurred. The sirens continued to sound, but the german’s voices had faded away. Perhaps they feared for what was coming?
As Larry regained himself, he tried to pull himself to his feet. His gloves slid on the tacky floor. Pulling his hand up, he looked down. The entire floor was made of steel plate, rusted with wear and age. Larry’s hair raised on end as he saw what was on the floor that had made him slip. Fresh, tacky blood. Larry panicked, sliding back away from the bloody pool in front of where the door had been. Oh god, the door. The door was gone. Had he run further than he thought? Larry realized he was now in the middle of a hallway. But he had just barely made it into the buildings front entrance.
Finally, Larry managed to get to his feet. He could still hear the sirens, loud as ever. Oddly enough, he had yet to hear any planes flying overhead. He wanted to find a room to hide himself in. Larry wasn’t a coward, but he had definitely seen enough today to leave the poor man in a sorry, dreaded state. He was only twenty, and no amount of experience, or boot camp could have prepared him for the terror he’d seen today.
Nor would any of it prepare him for what he would see…
Nervously, Larry got out his mag-light, holding it under his garand as he stepped down the hall. The light showed walls that were made of a hodge-podge of material, mostly disgusting, dirty sheets nailed to plywood, and metal mesh grating. Heavy looking metal doors went down the hall every twenty yards or so. The closest door had a small plate next to the door, with the room number ‘205’ etched into it. The door was coated in a heavy coat of rust, and what looked like splotches of blood… What was this horrible place?
Larry tried the door closest to him. The door handle was so rusted over, that he could never have hoped to budge it. Continuing down the hall, he was met to much the same situation; doors rusted shut, or simply unable to be opened. The entire hall smelled musty and stagnant, mixed with a smell of rust, and a little bit of rot.
There was a sudden, loud scraping sound coming from down the hall, from around the corner. Larry listened for a moment, until he heard a voice. A muttered, guttural, yet feminine voice that spoke English, with a mild russian accent.
“Ring around…the rosey…Pocket full of posies… Asssshes…Asssshes… They all…fall…DOWN.†With the last word, the scraping turned into a deafening crash, and a piercing, squealing shriek filled the hallway. Above the shrieking, the voice boomed, echoing down the hall. “Husssh, my baby. Husssh. Everything will be over. Be ssstill now. Ssstill…†The shrieking was muffled then into covered whimpers and moans. There was a sharp, sickening cracking sound, and the whimpering stopped. “Give to me your life…and to you, I give forever peace~â€Â
Larry was terrified, and frozen in that terror. He could only imagine what terrible happenings were taking place around the corner. After a moment of silence, he could hear gross, squishing sounds, and a grinding, crunching sound…They made his stomach wrench.
And then, her voice came again. “Jussst…stay right there…I promissse…you won’t wait long…We will be together sssoon…†And then, she was giggling. A crazed, hysterical giggle. And Larry realized that his flashlight was still shined in the general direction of the turn in the hall...
He knew she was speaking to him. He just knew it. He reeled around, stumbling in sheer panic as he ran in the opposite direction. He tried every door he came to in the hall. Behind him, he could hear the woman’s bizarre giggling, mixed with the sound of tearing, scraping metal.
Larry’s body sagged against the steel door as it slammed shut behind him. He only waited a moment before trying to bar the door with whatever he could find in the room. As luck would have it, he had found what had one likely been a lounge room. He shoved a couch and table against the door, hoping that it would keep it closed.
Then he just sank to the floor and sat there. He just sat there, covering his face with his hands, crying. What was he going to do? How had he gotten here? What in God’s name was going on? This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of it made any sense.
Larry slowly regained his composure as best as he could. He got to his feet, looking around the room for anything that might help him. There were some supplies on a long counter in the back of the room. There was a first aid kit, a few dry rations, an ammo box, and a tool box with a crowbar on top of it. As well, there was a large radio pack lying on the counter, that had obviously belonged to another American, what with the tags and sewn on patches. Larry decided to check it. He started trying to find a frequency that might have someone to help him on it.
“This is PFC Larry Harkins with the 5th. Can anybody hear me? Repeat, this is PFC Larry Harkin’s. Anyone?â€Â
Just as he had asked, the radio responded with a bizarre, shrill static. For a moment, he could hear the recent, familiar voice of that mildly Russian accented woman. Her voice was much more delicate and childish over the radio, though it was hard to tell either way through the mild static.
“Ring around…the rosey. Pocket full of…posies~†She didn’t finish the rhymn. Instead, she stopped, giggling in the radio. “Mister? Come out come out~ We need…to play more. Pleassse…†It was as if her voice began to distort over the radio, back into that guttural, hissing voice. “Pleassse…play with me~â€Â
Outside, Larry could hear what sounded like bare feet stepping along the metal floor outside. The problem was that it was much too loud from inside the room. Larry practically held his breath as the footfalls stopped for a moment, and the radio buzzed menacingly with a strange, groaning static.
“You want to play hide and ssseek…?†She giggled through the radio. “Okay~ we’ll be together sssoon…So soon mister…Jussst…wait…They’re waiting for us.†The footfalls continued to pad down the hall, more quickly now. As they disappeared, so did the static in the radio set.
Larry kick started his breath, as though he had been forgetting to inhale. His stomach churned nauseatingly as he doubled over, nearly vomiting all over the already filthy floor. He had to calm down. He had to get out of this. He had to get out of this building.
Larry returned to the counter top after his nerve wracking panic attack, looking through the supplies he’d found. The toolbox had a few general tools: a roll of duct-tape, a hammer, wire-cutters, a few nails, a monkey wrench, a file, and two screw drivers. Phillips and flat-bladed. The first aid kit had pain killers, tourniquet, bandages, and antibiotic ointment. Somehow, they were all in almost immaculate condition, despite everything else in the room being covered in grime and rust.
Hastily, Larry loaded the first aid kit and rations into his nearly empty pack. His squad hadn’t been meant to stay out here long, so he had plenty of room. He pulled the tape out of tool box, taping his flashlight to the front of his M1. Once finished, the toolbox went into his pack as well. He dug through the case of ammo; all .30-06 rounds. He loaded as many as he could into blank en bloc clips. The rest of the box went into his pack with everything else.
But what about the radio pack? He wondered if it would be of any use to him. All it seemed to do was play that creepy static. Now though, there was only a very mild static coming from it… But what if he found his way out? He would want to be able to call for help if he could get outside. Maybe it was just this crazy building, killing the radio waves.
It was time to find a way out of this hell-hole, and Larry wasn’t going to take any chances. He felt like there was going to be little luck out of this building, but he desperate. He wanted to live.
(End…not even going to proof it.)
![[Image: T%20for%20TALE-01.png]](https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/1960774/T%20for%20TALE-01.png)