If one were observing the private grounds of a particularly wealthy noble family within the borders of the Archduchy of Austria, they would not see the faintest sign of life dwelling within its boundaries. Then again, it was late at night, and all should be asleep by now.
But every so often, one might see a small flash of light appear in the window, but no sound to accompany it. Why was this? Because The Terror of Belgorod was at work, silently eliminating those threats that lay lurking in the shadows. Threats Bruno wanted out of his way before they could properly manifest themselves.
Suppressors were an interesting thing, existing as far back as 1909, if not even early, the technology used within them was about as much the same in the early 21st century as they were in the early 20th century.
A tube made out of flame resistant metals with baffles welded within them. The device was of course threaded directly to the barrel of a firearm that was capable of using it. For example, most revolvers could not be suppressed because they did not have a proper gas seal and would allow excess noise to escape from the cylinder.
This was not the case for the Nagant m1895 Revolver, which had previously been standard issue to the Imperial Russian Army. And now found itself in the hands of a mad dog let off his leash. With a suppressor of Bruno’s own design attached to the barrel of this very revolver, Erich marched through the estate of the infamous Rothschild family and did the lord’s bidding.
After all, in the words of the fictional preacher Joshua Graham, “We can’t expect God to do all the work…”
The hammer was raised by Erich’s thumb as he aimed the weapon down in the darkness and squeezed the trigger while the suppressor was pressed firmly against the skull of the master of the House, who was on his knees pleading for mercy.
Mercy? Erich knew no such word, and as his face was hidden behind a balaclava, all that could be witnessed beneath the smirking skull imprinted upon its fabric was the vague outline of a matching expression from the unknown demon whose visage lie beneath.
Not a single word was spoken as the firing pin attached to the hammer of the revolver struck the primer on the back of the round, igniting the powder within the cartridge and propelling the 7.62mm cartridge into the skull of the victim, whose blood and grey matter was blasted all over the floor of his bedroom, while his wife, who was still kneeling by his side shrieked in dismay.
Having heard the loud and obnoxious wailing of the recently made widow, Erich frowned as he struck the woman across the head with the grip of his pistol. He was never the type to let a perfectly good excuse for violence to go to waste.
The sudden blunt forced trauma to the temple of the woman knocked her unconscious instantly. And not wanting to waste another round, Erich stashed his revolver in its holster, which was purposely designed to allow the suppressor to stick out, where he then pulled out a pathfinder knife.
The knife had the same Totenkopf made famous by the Iron Division embedded in its scales, while the blade was inscribed with the German Words “Blut und Eisen” or in the English tongue “Blood and Iron.”
The knife had been granted to those members of the Iron Division after the war was over, as a commemoration of their volunteered service within the Russian Civil War. And was found on the person of many NCOs and officers currently serving in the Great War Today.
Bruno also had one such knife on his person at all times. It was as much a tool for survival as it was a weapon to kill the enemy should the need arise. And with this weapon, Erich stuck the unconscious matriarch of the Rothschild family through the heart, like a butchered pig, as he ended her life then and there.
After doing so, he turned around to find a curiosity gazing at him. The teenage girl was no older than sixteen as she saw her parents lying dead on the ground before her. The screams and sounds of muffled gunfire had awoken her from her sleep. Apparently, Erich had missed her in his cleansing of the wretched house.
Due to the darkness of the hallways at the devil’s hour of which currently reigned supreme, she had not witnessed the massacre of her other family members in the halls. Nor her siblings who Erich had already disposed.
She did not say a single word to the murderer who she caught in the act, as she stared at him with hate-filled eyes. Erich, however did not immediately fetch his revolver to end the little girl. Nor did he make an aggressive move towards her with the knife.
Instead, he wiped the blood on the nightgown of who it belonged to, before stashing it away back in his pocket. Only after which did he pull his pistol out of its holster and aim it at the girl whose ferocious gaze did not waver in the slightest.
“The hatred in your eyes, I know it all too well…. For I see it every time I look in the mirror. But luckily for you, you won’t have to live with such unbridled rage for long. Because I am going to reunite you with your family in hell where you all belong right this instant…”
*bang*
—
The massacre of the Austrian Branch of the Rothschild family, a family who was renowned for their wealth, and history of bankrolling the Habsburgs had shocked the world within the papers the next morning. Not a single soul lived to tell the tale of who had infiltrated their home and killed them all down to the last potential heir.
Bruno read the paper while sitting at the breakfast table, enjoying his morning coffee with a stoic gaze as he looked at the paper. It was not until he saw the grave look on his eldest daughter’s face did he realize something was wrong.
Especially since her eyes were frozen, staring at the headline. Bruno had no choice but to ask about why his daughter was acting so strangely, as he did so with a gentle tone in his voice. One which he normally used to communicate with his daughters.
“Eva, is everything alright? It looks like you have seen a ghost… Don’t tell me you are disturbed by the headline? A tragedy to be sure, but one that it is not a concern of our family…”
Having heard her father’s concern in his voice, Eva snapped back to reality, before explaining why she was so distraught, but only after taking a few breaths to calm herself beforehand.
“I’m sorry, father, it’s just that. You know I am friends with Princess Sophie, right?”
Princess Sophie? As in Princess Sophie of Hohenberg? The sole daughter of the late Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie of Hohenberg? Since when did his daughter know such an important figure?
Bruno stared at his daughter with an inquisitive gaze. That is until, Heidi brought over a plate full of his favorite breakfast and placed it in front of him.
“You have been so busy preparing for this war that you didn’t even think about what to do with the Archduke’s children after the tragedy that befell their parents. Naturally, as your better half I had it covered.
I immediately arranged for their wellbeing to be looked after, both by their family members and our own. Because of this awful business, our daughter and the princess have quickly become the closest of friends. They are roughly the same age after all, born in the same year in fact, and our daughter is the Grand Princess of Transylvania now. It only makes sense, no?”
This was of course news to Bruno, but that was a matter for another time. And because of this, Bruno was quick to follow this information to the logical conclusion, he appeared to be missing.
“I did not know that, and I would love to hear more about it, but Eva, what does your friendship with Princess Sophie have to do with the Rothschilds…”
After a brief summary of her friendship with the Princess of Hohenberg, and their inner circle. It would appear that Eva knew one of the Rothschilds slain in the massacre, vicariously through her Habsburg friend.
In fact, she had spoken to the girl relatively recently, and was shocked that something so horrible had happened to someone she personally knew, and had been in contact with only a week prior.
Bruno felt a bit guilty, having unwittingly and accidentally caused his beloved daughter some mental anguish, and because of this he was quick to console her, while giving her some life advice.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know you two were on friendly terms. But Eva, this is why you should cherish each moment you have alive on this earth. Especially those happy moments surrounded by friends and loved ones.
Sooner or later death comes for us all, and sometimes in sudden ways which we have no way of anticipating. And in the end, all that will remain will be your memories of those departed. Hence, you understand now why I always try to be on the best of terms, with you and your siblings, as well as those who are important to me.
Because it would be a terrible thing to part on unfavorable terms with a loved one, would it not? “
Despite the fact that the girl had broken out into tears, she hugged her father lovingly, taking his advice to heart, and swearing never to let herself be compelled to say or do something she would regret to any of her loved ones.
As for Bruno, he stroked his little angel’s golden hair as he comforted her, feeling regret for what he had ordered Erich to do. Not out of any empathy for the victims who were killed under his command, but because of the pain he had unknowingly caused his daughter as a result of the bloodshed.