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Description
Feline and Fraulein, Part One
by JamesE82

Nearly a quarter of a mile beneath Leipzig, Germany…

Hunt.

The black figure stalking down the hall was seeking prey.

Watch… be silent…

The red eyes of the figure were alert, taking in every detail despite the dimness of its surroundings, moving on bare feet that made not a sound as they brought the predator forward through the darkness.

Hunt… find… find her…

When an image of her target flashed through the predator’s mind, her striped fur bristled slightly. Her red eyes narrowed as her lips parted even more, exposing another half inch of white fangs.

Find her… kill her…

The predator smelled something foul long before she approached the corner, alerting her to the presence of the zombie before she saw him. She slowed only slightly, giving anyone or anything accompanying the undead thing a chance to make itself known to her hypersensitive nostrils. There was no one else…

Attack.

The zombie was male, had probably been in his late twenties when he died. Well-muscled, but the muscles were unnatural--the doktor had spent some time on him, had not simply animated his corpse without additional surgical augmentation. Had he been allowed to do so, the zombie probably would have been intelligent enough to alert others to the intruder’s presence, may have been one of the types of undead to take evasive action or form a rudimentary plan of attack. But the predator did not allow him to do so.

Republicat sent the razor-sharp claws of her left hand into the small of the undead guard’s back, slipping her powerful fingers up under the bottom of his body armor and plunging the claws through his spine. In a flash the right hand was under the zombie’s chin, claws severing the spine in a second location. The feline/human hybrid used her feral strength to slow the descent of the heavy body as it slumped to the cold floor. An unmoving corpse once again, Republicat left the zombie where it lay, moving away quickly, her ears scanning for any sign that her stealthy slaying had been detected.

Unlike her hulking partner, the Crimson Conservative, Republicat was not pompous or an egomaniac, but was sure of her abilities, and was not surprised that the kill had not made enough noise to alert anyone. She ran onward, listening and smelling, eyes scanning and whiskers twitching.

Sounds. Breathing… footsteps…

She turned another corner, noted the swastikas on the uniforms, and the first man died without ever seeing what was killing him. The other was wearing night vision goggles, but all that let him do was open his mouth in terror before Republicat sent her claws through his throat. She inspected the soldiers, noting the two-way radio units clipped to their shoulders.

“Two humans dead,” the feline assassin said in a low growl. Though she was speaking in a whisper, her voice while in battle-mode was still a primal sound that could make chilled sweat cover a man’s body very quickly. “Radios.”

The person on the other end of Republicat’s comm set knew what that meant. “Acknowledged,” was all her commander said. Before breaking contact with her, she caught the beginning of him passing the information on to his men, telling them that the enemy would soon be aware the facility had been infiltrated. The shooting began sooner than she thought, however… as did the screams.

The fact that the screams emitting from her tiny earbud were those of American Special Forces members made her already fierce eyes start to glow.

“It’s her!” a man shouted over bursts of gunfire. Then there was a strange, high whining sound, followed by a gasp of shock and pain.

“She got Bakker!” another man shouted over more gunfire. “Took his arms off, then his head! She’s fast, fuck me is she fast!”

Republicat broke into a run; there wasn’t enough room for her to full-out sprint, but she still became a black blur among the shadows. If the leader of the enemy forces was engaged with the team, that meant Republicat could perhaps take a more direct rout to the control room than she had planned, disable the device, and engage the person responsible for so much evil herself.

That would be the ideal outcome: primary mission accomplished, then the death--the complete death--of-

Zzzzzzzz!

That high whining came over her earpiece again, then there was a gagging sound. “Carson’s down!” yet another man reported. “She’s too fast to get a bead on! God, those saws! We have to- no!”

Zzzzzzzz!

Silence… Republicat sped down another corridor, and met another pair of enemy soldiers. Leaping onto a wall and kicking off with her powerful legs, she gripped the head of the first man with her claws and held on, the momentum of her sailing body causing vertebrae in his neck to shatter as his head was wrenched to a fatal angle. The first soldier’s corpse anchoring her a bit, she brought her legs forward while still in the air so the claws of her right foot could dig into the second soldier’s throat. She finished the maneuver by landing with both feet on the man, then sprang off him before he was finished bleeding out.

Her higher brain functions took a backseat to her primal brain, her pure instincts, while she was in battle-mode, but Republicat still did a bit of math as she rushed forward. It was almost a certainty that the three soldiers she had heard over the radio were dead, which meant almost a quarter of the assault team had been killed in a matter of seconds.

Upgraded herself, Republicat thought. The enemy leader had been dangerous enough as a natural woman, the feline assassin knew, and had then transformed herself into something unbelievably deadly, a semi-living thing that was able to move and strike as quickly and lethally as the world’s greatest martial artists. She had, apparently, not been satisfied with what she had done to herself, and had used her ungodly surgical processes to take her capabilities to the next level…

Had she not been in battle-mode, Republicat would have been distressed about that for a reason other than the prospect of facing an enemy who had made herself even more powerful than she already had been. She was within a newly-discovered scientific facility, one lost since the fall of the Third Reich, a complex constructed in the early half of the previous century, a place coated with the dust of nearly seven decades… and she was there to hunt a twenty-first century Nazi. A Nazi leader who’s body was a modern marvel of science, as much as the facility had been a cutting-edge marvel in its day.

Any irony or profundities of the situation were completely lost on the feline assassin while in her feral form.

Hunt… find… kill.

A smattering of explosions and a great deal of gunfire erupted over her radio. “Fuck yeah!” a man roared. “Not so tough without your saws, are you, bitch?”

“Sanders,” the commander of the operation said. “What happened?”

“I got her, sir,” the soldier announced. “Used an RPG to blow the saw outta one of her hands, and I shot the other saw outta the other! She’s down, musta taken a dozen rounds. I got her, sir, she’s-”

Republicat recognized the sound of yet another neck being broken. The commander called for Sanders, but received no response.

Vulnerable, Republicat thought. Her target had lost her favorite weapons, the twin motorized surgical saws she was so adept at wielding. She would likely have more stashed somewhere, but until the enemy leader got to them, she was at a disadvantage.

Vulnerable prey…

She smelled the smoke from Sanders’ RPGs, had felt the explosions off to her right. She should continue to the control room, she knew, but her predatory instincts were howling now. And if she got to the woman while she was unarmed, it would be over. Let them activate the device; if Republicat got her claws onto their leader, the woman would not be able to use it… because she would be in pieces.

She ran, turned, ran, turned again. Her claws left thin gouges in the metal floor as she propelled herself onward, her fangs glistened as she exposed them in anticipation.

Close… close prey…

She entered the large room where Sanders had confronted the woman and met his demise. The charred and bullet-scarred walls told the tale of what had happened, verifying the triumphant account he had given, which then had turned into his final words on this earth. In one corner of the room was a shining piece of metal, partially charred by an explosion, but still recognizable as a serrated surgeon’s saw, pointed and elongated until it was a two-foot long tool of death. In the other corner was its twin, this one dented from the impact of some large-caliber rounds. In the middle of the room lay Saunders, unbreathing, looking at the ceiling though his body was laying stomach-down.

Close…

The Kleig lights set up by the modern Nazis in the process of getting the old facility back online had been demolished by the RPGs and machinegun fire, throwing a blanket of shadow over the entire room. There was still plenty of light from the hallway for the feline assassin to see by, however, and her glowing eyes scanned the dimness for the prey she was certain was nearby. Even over the smoke she could detect the semi-dead scent of the woman, and the aroma of blood that always clung to her like a scarlet aura.

There were only so many nooks and corners to lurk in, so many pieces of machinery to hide behind. The predator crept along, following the scent, feline ears twitching in a display of her eagerness when she detected that unmistakable, impossibly slow heartbeat that could only mean one person was nearby…

Republicat’s eyes were keen to the point that it was not possible for a human to imagine what it was like to see as she was able to, but just the same, the woman in the corner was standing so still that the predator did not register her presence for a moment. Despite being confronted by the feline monster, the woman in the dark lab coat was indeed standing statue-still, her unnatural heart’s beat not quickening in the least. The eyes above her black facemask caught the dim light and reflected whitely, chillingly, two windows through which the necromantic energies that powered her seemed to shine. For an instant, those eyes gave Republicat pause, both because she was slightly unnerved, but also because she needed an instant for her brain to register that she had finally found the woman. For a split second Republicat was still…

Nearly as still as Dr. Josefine Mengele.

--To be continued--

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hate myself for skimping on the details, but I also wanted my writing in this story segment to match both the action and the mood of the main character. This is Republicat on the hunt, a beast perusing her prey; as she was not stopping to admire the scenery or think about the personalities of the team sent in with her to take out the Nazis, I did not do so, either.

So, the granddaughter of the original Dr. Mengele has mobilized her forces and is searching for… something. Whatever she’s after, wanna bet that it would be best if she doesn’t get control of it? Looks like RC is about to prevent that from happening, but I don’t think Josefine is a woman you want to dismiss too lightly.

Not a lot of character development in this one--RC is the main character in “Shadow and Light in a Heart Valley Night,” [link] and [link] , if you want to know more about her (and see her when she isn’t in battle-mode). You’ll get to know her better in coming stories, after she and Mengele… well, you’ll see.

is the artist who brought Connie’s furry friend to life with his skill and dedication. This is only the beginning; I pestered him into creating both versions of Republicat, friendly and feral, and you ought to see the next picture in this little series!

is not the dimension where this story takes place, so why did I submit it to that forum? Maybe it depends on what the facility was dedicated to back when it was in business…

Republicat and Dr. Josefine Mengele are my creations, copyrighted 2009.

Comments welcome, but remember that Republicat does not find litter box humor amusing…

Description
Feline and Fraulein, Part One
by JamesE82

Nearly a quarter of a mile beneath Leipzig, Germany…

Hunt.

The black figure stalking down the hall was seeking prey.

Watch… be silent…

The red eyes of the figure were alert, taking in every detail despite the dimness of its surroundings, moving on bare feet that made not a sound as they brought the predator forward through the darkness.

Hunt… find… find her…

When an image of her target flashed through the predator’s mind, her striped fur bristled slightly. Her red eyes narrowed as her lips parted even more, exposing another half inch of white fangs.

Find her… kill her…

The predator smelled something foul long before she approached the corner, alerting her to the presence of the zombie before she saw him. She slowed only slightly, giving anyone or anything accompanying the undead thing a chance to make itself known to her hypersensitive nostrils. There was no one else…

Attack.

The zombie was male, had probably been in his late twenties when he died. Well-muscled, but the muscles were unnatural--the doktor had spent some time on him, had not simply animated his corpse without additional surgical augmentation. Had he been allowed to do so, the zombie probably would have been intelligent enough to alert others to the intruder’s presence, may have been one of the types of undead to take evasive action or form a rudimentary plan of attack. But the predator did not allow him to do so.

Republicat sent the razor-sharp claws of her left hand into the small of the undead guard’s back, slipping her powerful fingers up under the bottom of his body armor and plunging the claws through his spine. In a flash the right hand was under the zombie’s chin, claws severing the spine in a second location. The feline/human hybrid used her feral strength to slow the descent of the heavy body as it slumped to the cold floor. An unmoving corpse once again, Republicat left the zombie where it lay, moving away quickly, her ears scanning for any sign that her stealthy slaying had been detected.

Unlike her hulking partner, the Crimson Conservative, Republicat was not pompous or an egomaniac, but was sure of her abilities, and was not surprised that the kill had not made enough noise to alert anyone. She ran onward, listening and smelling, eyes scanning and whiskers twitching.

Sounds. Breathing… footsteps…

She turned another corner, noted the swastikas on the uniforms, and the first man died without ever seeing what was killing him. The other was wearing night vision goggles, but all that let him do was open his mouth in terror before Republicat sent her claws through his throat. She inspected the soldiers, noting the two-way radio units clipped to their shoulders.

“Two humans dead,” the feline assassin said in a low growl. Though she was speaking in a whisper, her voice while in battle-mode was still a primal sound that could make chilled sweat cover a man’s body very quickly. “Radios.”

The person on the other end of Republicat’s comm set knew what that meant. “Acknowledged,” was all her commander said. Before breaking contact with her, she caught the beginning of him passing the information on to his men, telling them that the enemy would soon be aware the facility had been infiltrated. The shooting began sooner than she thought, however… as did the screams.

The fact that the screams emitting from her tiny earbud were those of American Special Forces members made her already fierce eyes start to glow.

“It’s her!” a man shouted over bursts of gunfire. Then there was a strange, high whining sound, followed by a gasp of shock and pain.

“She got Bakker!” another man shouted over more gunfire. “Took his arms off, then his head! She’s fast, fuck me is she fast!”

Republicat broke into a run; there wasn’t enough room for her to full-out sprint, but she still became a black blur among the shadows. If the leader of the enemy forces was engaged with the team, that meant Republicat could perhaps take a more direct rout to the control room than she had planned, disable the device, and engage the person responsible for so much evil herself.

That would be the ideal outcome: primary mission accomplished, then the death--the complete death--of-

Zzzzzzzz!

That high whining came over her earpiece again, then there was a gagging sound. “Carson’s down!” yet another man reported. “She’s too fast to get a bead on! God, those saws! We have to- no!”

Zzzzzzzz!

Silence… Republicat sped down another corridor, and met another pair of enemy soldiers. Leaping onto a wall and kicking off with her powerful legs, she gripped the head of the first man with her claws and held on, the momentum of her sailing body causing vertebrae in his neck to shatter as his head was wrenched to a fatal angle. The first soldier’s corpse anchoring her a bit, she brought her legs forward while still in the air so the claws of her right foot could dig into the second soldier’s throat. She finished the maneuver by landing with both feet on the man, then sprang off him before he was finished bleeding out.

Her higher brain functions took a backseat to her primal brain, her pure instincts, while she was in battle-mode, but Republicat still did a bit of math as she rushed forward. It was almost a certainty that the three soldiers she had heard over the radio were dead, which meant almost a quarter of the assault team had been killed in a matter of seconds.

Upgraded herself, Republicat thought. The enemy leader had been dangerous enough as a natural woman, the feline assassin knew, and had then transformed herself into something unbelievably deadly, a semi-living thing that was able to move and strike as quickly and lethally as the world’s greatest martial artists. She had, apparently, not been satisfied with what she had done to herself, and had used her ungodly surgical processes to take her capabilities to the next level…

Had she not been in battle-mode, Republicat would have been distressed about that for a reason other than the prospect of facing an enemy who had made herself even more powerful than she already had been. She was within a newly-discovered scientific facility, one lost since the fall of the Third Reich, a complex constructed in the early half of the previous century, a place coated with the dust of nearly seven decades… and she was there to hunt a twenty-first century Nazi. A Nazi leader who’s body was a modern marvel of science, as much as the facility had been a cutting-edge marvel in its day.

Any irony or profundities of the situation were completely lost on the feline assassin while in her feral form.

Hunt… find… kill.

A smattering of explosions and a great deal of gunfire erupted over her radio. “Fuck yeah!” a man roared. “Not so tough without your saws, are you, bitch?”

“Sanders,” the commander of the operation said. “What happened?”

“I got her, sir,” the soldier announced. “Used an RPG to blow the saw outta one of her hands, and I shot the other saw outta the other! She’s down, musta taken a dozen rounds. I got her, sir, she’s-”

Republicat recognized the sound of yet another neck being broken. The commander called for Sanders, but received no response.

Vulnerable, Republicat thought. Her target had lost her favorite weapons, the twin motorized surgical saws she was so adept at wielding. She would likely have more stashed somewhere, but until the enemy leader got to them, she was at a disadvantage.

Vulnerable prey…

She smelled the smoke from Sanders’ RPGs, had felt the explosions off to her right. She should continue to the control room, she knew, but her predatory instincts were howling now. And if she got to the woman while she was unarmed, it would be over. Let them activate the device; if Republicat got her claws onto their leader, the woman would not be able to use it… because she would be in pieces.

She ran, turned, ran, turned again. Her claws left thin gouges in the metal floor as she propelled herself onward, her fangs glistened as she exposed them in anticipation.

Close… close prey…

She entered the large room where Sanders had confronted the woman and met his demise. The charred and bullet-scarred walls told the tale of what had happened, verifying the triumphant account he had given, which then had turned into his final words on this earth. In one corner of the room was a shining piece of metal, partially charred by an explosion, but still recognizable as a serrated surgeon’s saw, pointed and elongated until it was a two-foot long tool of death. In the other corner was its twin, this one dented from the impact of some large-caliber rounds. In the middle of the room lay Saunders, unbreathing, looking at the ceiling though his body was laying stomach-down.

Close…

The Kleig lights set up by the modern Nazis in the process of getting the old facility back online had been demolished by the RPGs and machinegun fire, throwing a blanket of shadow over the entire room. There was still plenty of light from the hallway for the feline assassin to see by, however, and her glowing eyes scanned the dimness for the prey she was certain was nearby. Even over the smoke she could detect the semi-dead scent of the woman, and the aroma of blood that always clung to her like a scarlet aura.

There were only so many nooks and corners to lurk in, so many pieces of machinery to hide behind. The predator crept along, following the scent, feline ears twitching in a display of her eagerness when she detected that unmistakable, impossibly slow heartbeat that could only mean one person was nearby…

Republicat’s eyes were keen to the point that it was not possible for a human to imagine what it was like to see as she was able to, but just the same, the woman in the corner was standing so still that the predator did not register her presence for a moment. Despite being confronted by the feline monster, the woman in the dark lab coat was indeed standing statue-still, her unnatural heart’s beat not quickening in the least. The eyes above her black facemask caught the dim light and reflected whitely, chillingly, two windows through which the necromantic energies that powered her seemed to shine. For an instant, those eyes gave Republicat pause, both because she was slightly unnerved, but also because she needed an instant for her brain to register that she had finally found the woman. For a split second Republicat was still…

Nearly as still as Dr. Josefine Mengele.

--To be continued--

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hate myself for skimping on the details, but I also wanted my writing in this story segment to match both the action and the mood of the main character. This is Republicat on the hunt, a beast perusing her prey; as she was not stopping to admire the scenery or think about the personalities of the team sent in with her to take out the Nazis, I did not do so, either.

So, the granddaughter of the original Dr. Mengele has mobilized her forces and is searching for… something. Whatever she’s after, wanna bet that it would be best if she doesn’t get control of it? Looks like RC is about to prevent that from happening, but I don’t think Josefine is a woman you want to dismiss too lightly.

Not a lot of character development in this one--RC is the main character in “Shadow and Light in a Heart Valley Night,” [link] and [link] , if you want to know more about her (and see her when she isn’t in battle-mode). You’ll get to know her better in coming stories, after she and Mengele… well, you’ll see.

is the artist who brought Connie’s furry friend to life with his skill and dedication. This is only the beginning; I pestered him into creating both versions of Republicat, friendly and feral, and you ought to see the next picture in this little series!

is not the dimension where this story takes place, so why did I submit it to that forum? Maybe it depends on what the facility was dedicated to back when it was in business…

Republicat and Dr. Josefine Mengele are my creations, copyrighted 2009.

Comments welcome, but remember that Republicat does not find litter box humor amusing…