The scientists, their faces a mixture of apprehension and a sliver of hope, nodded their agreement.
Varun, his gaze hardening with purpose, began to usher them towards a narrow, barely visible tunnel leading deeper into the city's underbelly.
"They'll be looking for you above ground," Varun stated, his voice low and urgent.
"French and UK forces are still active in this sector, rounding up anyone with ties to the previous regime's research." varun said as he still remembers that during his search for these people peope, how he had accidently discovered the covert french and UK forces hiding nearby.
As to why they were hiding? Well, if you intend to enslave someone, they're hardly going to willingly approach you if you make noise, right?
Similarly, these forces were lurking to capture their targets, who were deliberately concealed.
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A wave of fear rippled through the scientists. The threat of Allied capture was a stark reality, a fate many dreaded.
"The safest way out is through the sewers," Varun continued, his expression grim. "It's not pleasant, but it's our best chance to evade them."
'And i suppose you are already used to it, so no more noises and keep up with me.' he said, as he turned around.
Reluctantly, the group followed Varun into the fetid darkness.
The stench of sewage and decay filled the air, the ground slick and treacherous underfoot.
They navigated the labyrinthine tunnels, the only light source Varun's small, palm-sized device that cast an eerie blue glow.
The sounds of dripping water and scurrying creatures echoed around them.
The journey through the sewage system was a descent into the city's filth and despair.
The scientists, their once-pristine lab coats now stained and soiled, moved with a grim determination, driven by the fear of capture and the faint promise of escape.
Varun, despite the unpleasant environment, moved with an almost supernatural agility, guiding them through the maze of tunnels and avoiding unseen hazards.
After what felt like an eternity, the tunnel widened, the air growing slightly fresher.
A faint sound of rushing water filled the darkness. "The exit," Varun whispered, pointing towards a dimly lit opening ahead. "The sewage system meets the river here."
Varun reached the end of the sewage tunnel, the air thick with the smell of the river just beyond. He peered out at the churning, dark water cascading down a short drop.
"Alright," he instructed the huddled scientists, his voice low and urgent. "Slip into the falling water. It will lead you to a river. '
'Stay close to the bank, find cover nearby. I will come back for you soon. The French and UK are still thick up top, this is the safest route for now."
Fear and desperation etched on their faces, the scientists nodded. One by one, they slid into the slick opening, disappearing into the rush of foul-smelling water.
Varun watched until the last of them had vanished, ensuring no one was left behind.
Then, with a grimace, he turned back into the tunnel, his thoughts on retrieving his bicycle.
It was a vital piece of equipment, his primary mode of transport across the ravaged continent.
Finding a less conspicuous exit, he managed to climb back to the surface, emerging into the stark reality of the Berlin streets.
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The scene that greeted him was chaos.
The air crackled with the sharp reports of gunfire, punctuated by the rumble of heavy machinery.
Several tanks rumbled down a nearby avenue, their turrets swiveling menacingly.
Soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms – not the French or British he expected – were engaged in fierce combat with another, unseen force. Buildings were ablaze, smoke billowing into the already grim sky.
Varun stared, his mind reeling.
This wasn't a simple Allied cleanup operation. This was a full-blown battle, far more intense than any lingering resistance he'd anticipated.
"What in the hell is happening here?" he muttered to himself, his senses on high alert.
The presence of tanks and the scale of the fighting suggested a significant clash, a power struggle he hadn't foreseen.
His priority now shifted from a quiet extraction, complicated by the Allied presence, to understanding the nature of this sudden, violent eruption.
He needed to assess the new threat before he could safely retrieve the scientists from the riverbank.
The landscape of post-war Berlin had just become significantly more dangerous and unpredictable.
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Varun moved with practiced stealth, his movements fluid and silent as he approached the source of the escalating gunfire.
He used the skeletal remains of buildings as cover, his senses heightened, his mind analyzing the sounds of battle.
He soon found himself on the periphery of a violent clash.
Allied soldiers, their uniforms crisp and their movements coordinated, were engaged in a fierce firefight with a smaller, more ragtag group huddled amongst the ruins.
These were clearly remnants of the German army, their uniforms tattered, their movements desperate, making a final, defiant stand.
As Varun observed the unfolding chaos, his focus sharpened on the German soldiers.
Suddenly, Daivik's calm voice echoed in his mind, "Varun, I am scanning facial recognition. There is a high probability of a person belonging to the German High Command present. His facial structure matches that of Erich von Manstein: Field Marshal, Eastern Front commander."
Varun's breath hitched. Erich von Manstein. A legendary, albeit controversial, figure in the Wehrmacht. He scanned the embattled Germans, his eyes searching for the individual Daivik had identified.
Amongst the wounded, half-hidden behind a collapsed wall, he saw him: a man with a determined set to his jaw, clutching a rifle, directing the remaining soldiers with sharp, concise commands.
Despite the grime and the desperation of the situation, there was an undeniable air of authority about him.
For a long moment, Varun watched the desperate struggle. The Allied forces were closing in, their superior numbers and firepower steadily overwhelming the Germans.
Manstein and his small band were fighting a losing battle, their final stand a testament to a dying loyalty.
A conflict brewed within Varun. He was here to extract scientists, to secure a future for his own ambitions.
But witnessing this scene, the raw courage of these men against overwhelming odds, stirred something within him.
He contemplated the historical significance of the man before him, the weight of his past.
After a brief, internal struggle, a decision solidified in Varun's mind. He made his move.