The German's last breath.

As the German stumbles backwards he slumps into the chair, his eyes downcast in dejection. Meanwhile Tom and Alfred surround the last standing combatant, each have their fist raised, their eyes locked on the fellows face.

In grim determination he lunges towards Albert, who stands closest to the window, with shoulder lowered he rams into the man and both stumble backwards, Tom utters something before the window shatters and both men tumble out, Albert seeming to take the whole blow, his back collecting the window and frame.

Glass sprays outwards, the powerful German raises just an inch to see the action from his chair, Henry all but ignores the sounds as he pushes the man back into the chair, “Nicht!” he yells while looking sharply at the fellow, globules of perspiration and spittle gathering on his upper lip.

The German eyes Henry beneath heavy brows, his blue eyes seeming to pale in the new clean light, red ringed pupils shift in size with the changing light, the darkness almost like an endless expanse.

Henry starts to feel as though his falling into the dark, his body has the sensation of a slow rotation, his belt-buckle the central point. As the gathering darkness surrounds him light lines form in the periphery of his vision, he falls deeper, then a sudden crack from outside of the room drags him back. His feet settle on the soft-carpeted floor and perspective returns to his mind.

Outside the two men slump onto the rough garden path behind the building, luckily they’ve only fallen several feet; rather unluckily the invader chose Albert to grapple. In the short fall from the window Albert was able to twist, much like a cat does when dropped from a height, in doing so he’s been able to turn and have the man cushion his blow.

Not only has this manoeuvre been successful in protecting Albert from the rough stony ground, its also ended badly for his German attacker, the mans neck having sustained a sharp and savage blow from a pointed sandstone garden edge. The rock breaking more than just his skin forces the fellows head backwards so that his mouth opens in silent yelling pose.

When the mans spinal column snapped against the rockery Tom had the low gut feeling of pain one has at moments like this. A series of racing thoughts spill through his head; Albert’s head breaking apart on the rocks, glass rupturing his body in a multitude of places, or a snapped neck.

Tom races towards the remains of the window and peers downwards into the side garden. Below a scatter of glass glints in the dull half light, a trail of blood rolls like jam down the stone pathway, and Albert lays prone on the dead mans chest.

“Albert, Albert old boy are you ok?” Tom yells as he starts to clamber through the smashed window.

Pushing up on his hands, sweeping them a little to each side to push the broken glass away Albert struggles to his feet. “Kingston rules I’m afraid.” He spits at the man below him.

Tom climbs down to the path, “You killed him.”

“Hmm, that’s a real shame, not at all what I’d intended, t’was his fault really.”

“That’s true.” Tom says nodding along with the thought, “I’m glad he didn’t succeed.”

“Me too.” Albert exclaims while twisting a kink from his stiff neck.

“If you two are finished I have one of them up here!” Henry yells from the living room.

“Right’o we’ll be right there.” Tom calls back.

After clambering through the shattered window again the men surround the German fellow, who now sits doe eyed in the chair before them. They each stand for several minutes looking at the man.

“So what’s the game friend, coming here and wrecking my place?” Albert eventually utters.

With nothing but a smirk he looks Albert in the eyes, his face almost eggshell white, shows nothing but contempt.

“Well answer the chap scoundrel!” Tom says while adding a kick to his leg.

“You and your pathetic creed will die, all of you who do not follow the Reich and our allies.”

Looking at each other the men share a moment of silence before Henry starts to question the man again, more boldly this time, “What the hell are you talking about, spill it!”

“You ignorant fools, you know nothing of what is happening, this is a monumental age that we live in, this is a time that traditional enemy’s will join together in glorious harmony and crush the infidels. Our magnificent Star Masters have made this possible, and it will happen!” Looking each in the eye in turn he continues, “At this very moment they are embarking on a journey that will unleash a power to destroy everyone of you and your kind, and in the end we will stand triumphant on the ruins of your civilization. And then and only then will we rebuild in a superior and right way.”

With his final word spilling from his mouth like magma spilling from a volcano he bites down hard on his teeth, the slight sound of chalk breaking pops out and seconds later the mans mouth begins to foam and bubble with a white froth.

He shudders and shakes on the spot, his hands clench the chair arms and his eyes roll up into his head. After a quick inhale he starts to laugh, at first quietly, then the volume grows and crescendos into a raucous bellow.

Spittle and foam splutter and spill from his open maw as his hysteria grows, the three men stumble backwards, unable to do anything for the man.

As they watch his cheeks and lower jaw start to crumble as if becoming brittle, pieces fall inwards and bubble in the foaming liquid that was moments ago the mans throat and neck.

The laughter slowly dies and is replaced by a gurgle that seems to carry on for several minutes. Much of the fellows lower face has now succumb to the gnawing foam. A deep bowl now rests, carved out where his mouth, cheeks, nose and much of his throat used to reside. A steaming gore line, semicircular in shape, traces the bottoms of his eyes, both looking down at Tom as if saying something cruel.

After several moments Albert says, “Good lord that was quite horrible now wasn’t it?”

“Quite so.” Henry replies.

Tom steps back a foot or two before talking, “What do you suppose he was referring to with all of that Reich talk and Star Masters?”

“I’ve no idea, but I’ve got a feeling it isn’t too good my friend.”

“Indeed, what do you suppose we do now?” Albert asks while slumping into an adjacent chair.

“I think it’s jolly clear lad, we’ve got to infiltrate their lair, save Gestalt and stop this damn invasion!”

“Well said Henry.” Tom utters, “Now how the hell do you plan on doing that?”

⚅⚀thoughts