(Content warning extreme violence)

[ALLIED EVACUATION STAGING AREA - 0300 HOURS]

Harrison watched the horizon bleed red as another rescue ship burned. His hand trembled on the command desk - not from fear, but from the strain of containing his fury as he listened to the screams through naval bands. Men dissolving in sealed compartments. Crews going mad as what the Germans were calling the Weber Protocol's effects spread through ventilation systems.

He gathered his most trusted officers. MPs and intelligence staff who'd watched the horror spread through forward units. Men whose loyalty was beyond question.

"Blake, Andrews, Williams." His voice carried deadly calm. "Secure the command center. No one in or out without my direct approval."

These were men who'd served with him since North Africa and moved with practiced efficiency. Harrison watched them work - good men, loyal men who'd never betrayed their oaths. Men who understood the true meaning of duty.

"Williams." His voice carried deadly calm. "Bring me the deployment logs. All of them."

The intelligence officer spread papers across the desk. Transfer orders. Requisition forms. Every document showing how they'd moved CK gas between sectors. Harrison traced supply routes with fingers still raw from yesterday's beatings.

"Sir?" Williams hesitated. "What about the military tribunal? They expect court martial proceedings to-"

"Look at this." Harrison gestured to fresh dispatch reports. "Medical Bay Six reporting complete organ dissolution. Rescue Fleet Beta losing whole decks to contamination. Tell me, Williams - how long should we wait for proper procedure while our men die screaming?"

"What I'm proposing..." Harrison's words fell like stones in the command center. "There won't be any coming back from it. No justification to superior officers. No celebrated victory." He met each man's eyes. "This is about justice. Raw and final."

Sergeant Blake, his senior MP, stepped forward. "Those bastards brought gas to the front, sir. Made us all complicit in this horror. Procedure be damned - they need to pay."

Agreement rippled through the gathered men. Harrison saw the same “cold fury” in their eyes that burned in his chest.

Lieutenant Ross from Engineering spread schematics across the table. "Oxygen recycling systems in Compartment D-7. Critical pressure loss in Section 12. Ammunition storage detonation near the forward magazine." His voice stayed clinically detached. "All tragic accidents," he added, the faintest emphasis on 'accidents' betraying something deeper.

Harrison turned to Williams, "How many?" as he studied crew manifests.

"Forty-three directly involved in the gas transport. Another thirty-eight who falsified records or provided security clearance." Williams laid out a list of names. "That's not counting the officers who helped coordinate between sectors."

Harrison nodded grimly. "Get Richards. Let him watch what real retribution looks like."

MPs hauled Richards from his cell by the hair, forcing him to kneel before Harrison's desk. His eyes held defiance, still believing in necessary sacrifices and that he was in the right.

That would change.

"Sir..." Williams clutched fresh dispatches. "Lower decks reporting... men begging for death as their blood dissolves..."

"You hear that, Richards?" Harrison's voice stayed terrifyingly calm. "That's what your actions bought us. Now you get to watch the price being paid."

"Bring in the first conspirator" The command echoed through steel corridors.

They brought in Major Phillips - logistics division. The beating was methodical. Each blow calculated for maximum impact. Blood sprayed across transfer orders showing how they'd moved CK gas between sectors.

"You wanted RETALIATION?" Harrison's boot found ribs. "WANTED REVENGE?!" Another crack. "Show me your REVENGE NOW!"

Phillips spat teeth onto deployment papers. Harrison grabbed his hair, forced him to look at Richards.

"See your commander? The one who convinced you this was justified? LOOK AT HIM!"

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"Sir... the ships..." Williams clutched fresh dispatches. "Medical bays reporting complete organ dissolution...”

Phillips crumpled, gasping. "we had to..."

"HAD TO WHAT?!" Another blow. "MATCH HER BRILLIANCE WITH YOUR STUPIDITY?!"

The gunshot was almost anticlimactic. Phillips collapsed across logistics papers now painted crimson.

Between bouts of savagery, Harrison showed tender concern for his loyal men. "Rest, Blake. You've earned it." His gentle words to faithful officers contrasted grotesquely with his brutality toward conspirators.

"Next" Harrison said with a cold calmness.

Captain Tally- supply chain coordinator. Harrison's methodical beating turned requisition forms red. "You supplied the trucks? COUNTED THE CANISTERS?!"

Tally’s screams mixed with naval transmissions:

"...lower decks completely contaminated... men dissolving in sealed compartments..."

"Hear that?" Harrison forced Tally's face toward the radio. "That's what your supply chain created!"

The second shot rang out. Richards watched silently, understanding destroying him from within.

Lieutenant Hodgson dragged forward - forged the transport papers. Each blow precise. "WANTED TO HELP SECTOR 7 GET VENGEANCE?!"

Hodgson's blood joined the growing pool. Another shot.

Time blurred as Harrison worked through the conspiracy. Each beating more savage. Each execution more climatic. His transformation from general to executioner written in blood across command center floors.

"Sir..." Williams' voice cracked. "Rescue Fleet Beta reporting total crew loss... The Weber Protocol is spreading through filtered air..."

Richards knelt in growing crimson, forced to watch as Harrison systematically eliminated everyone who'd helped move those weapons. Each death a lesson in what real justice meant.

"Bring the communications officer" Harrison's knuckles dripped red. "The one who encoded the gas transport orders"

Major Evans hit the floor hard. Each kick precise, each blow calculated. "You THOUGHT your CODES could hide it?!"

Fresh screams through naval bands: "...men begging for death as organs liquefy..."

"HEAR WHAT YOUR CODES ENABLED?!" Harrison grabbed Evans' jaw. "Their flesh turning to liquid because YOU helped hide those shipments!"

The shot almost seemed merciful. Richards' silent witnessing continued, forced to watch his former conspirators unravel in blood.

Another execution. Then another. Harrison's descent from commander to killer written in methodology that would make Tanya proud. Each death a lesson wrought with anger.

No more trials. No more justification. Just primal retribution.

Richards knelt in crimson, watching his actions' consequences play out in what was now a barbaric theater.

The execution chamber fell silent except for naval transmissions documenting systematic horror. Richards remained kneeling in blood, all bravado stripped away by witnessing Harrison's dark opus.

"Finally." Harrison moved toward Richards with deadly calm. "The architect himself."

The first blow shattered Richards' jaw. "ALL THOSE SCUMMY ORDERS!" Another crack of bone. "ALL THAT WASTED EFFORT!"

"Sir... latest dispatch..." Williams' voice broke. "Ships reporting mass suicides... men choosing bullets over the Weber Protocol effects..."

Harrison yanked Richards' head up by the hair. "HEAR THEM DYING? THIS WAS YOUR MASTERPIECE!"

Blood poured from Richards' mouth but his eyes showed only empty understanding. Too late. Always too late.

"Its because of people like you that we’re losing this war" Each word punctuated with methodical violence. "SHOW ME YOUR RESPONSE NOW!"

Richards didn't resist. His silence fueled Harrison's fury - the transformation from general to executioner complete.

The final gunshot echoed differently. Harrison stood over Richards' corpse, spat, then turned to Williams.

[ALLIED EVACUATION STAGING AREA - 0430 HOURS]

The command center had become an abattoir. Harrison studied the aftermath watching with glacial detachment, hands dripping crimson. Bodies lay strewn across operations reports - each death positioned to tell its own story of "equipment malfunction" and "tragic accident."

"Sir." Cooper gestured to the corpses. "Ocean currents at this depth..."

"Weight them properly." Harrison's voice stayed measured as he helped MPs sort bodies. "Ensure proper distribution. No evidence surfaces." His gentle instruction contrasted grotesquely with the violence that had painted the walls.

"Latest dispatch, sir." Williams' hands trembled on reports. "Weber Protocol spreading through rescue fleet ventilation. Ships becoming floating tombs."

Harrison nodded, helping arrange "accident" scenes with almost tender precision. Each body positioned to support the fabricated narrative. Each death staged to suggest tragic malfunction rather than methodical execution.

Outside, rescue ships burned on the horizon. The Weber Protocol spread through naval ventilation systems, teaching Allied command the true meaning of chemical warfare.

They had sought revenge through gas.

Tanya had taught them horror's true meaning.

And Harrison had shown Richards the price of such lessons.

Inside, Harrison's men systematically sanitized command center horror into acceptable record. The future of this war would be written in dissolving flesh and falsified reports.

In her farmhouse cellar, Tanya traced casualty patterns with cold satisfaction.

"Tanya’s next," he said quietly. "After we clean this mess, after we restore order... I'm going to show her what real vengeance looks like."

“Some lessons can only be taught in blood”