Down the streets of Berlin [Erhard, open]

[olivervontrapp]

Place: Berlin, Germany
Time: 17:00
Weather: Quite chilly, frosty.

There he ran. Down the streets of the magnificent Berlin. He tried not to bump into other people as he ran down the streets although he did happen to stumble into a few people. He didn't mean to though. Von Trapp was his name. Oliver Jack Von Trapp. A lost Aryan child in the world of the nineteenth century Germany. The second world war. It was quite interesting to think of actually. Him becoming a soldier at war one day when he grew older. He was only ten years old - he still had more years to come anyways.

He wanted to expand and explore. That was what he wanted to be. An explorer. That was his main thoughts. His main thoughts on his future and career. His prosperity. He never wanted anything more in the world than to be an explorer. He was determined to become one. He wanted to explore the lands of Germany and cross it's borders and run along to his own country named Austria. No. His father never agreed to this. His father knew that he wanted to become an explorer when he grew older but he always said that 'it does not put money on the table every day, my dear son.' Oliver never agreed to these words and he wasn't going to let his father ruin his future career thoughts.

The Aryan race was scowling the streets of Berlin. It practically reeked of Nazis - in an okay way of speaking though. Nazism was a major thing these days. It never grew old too. Oliver would see more than fifty Jewish people walking the streets of Berlin being handcuffed by Nazis. He had to admit, it was quite horrid to see - especially for a child at his age.

He kept running and running. Playing like a normal child. Having lots of fun. It wasn't much to ask for, but usually it was never granted. Fun.

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

OOC: Sorry for the little god-modding.

Strumfelder moved quickly along the twisting pavements of the Capital. it was too cold to be outside for any length of time, and consequently he was wrapped up tightly in a fur lined trench coat, and a hat which he stolen from a Russian soldier in the east, moments before shooting him. It was made of thick rabbit and felt warm on his head, even if it had been worn by a dog.

He as in a very sour mood. His private Mercedes would not start for his driver, and therefore he had to walk back from the SS HQ. This would have been okay, if he didn’t need to be back home early to send the girl to her Jungmädelbund meeting, didn’t have a limp, or it wasn’t cold and frosty. But combined there were proving a monumental pain in the arse.

His jackboots pounded the busy street, his cane knocking rhythmically with them. It was hard to see through the crowds, and the many people were not helping. Didn’t they at least own an automobile?! At the last second, Strumfelder noticed a boy rushing straight at him. He had no time to stop and the boy smashed into his side. Strumfelder fought to maintain his grip as his boots slid on the icy surface, but the boy fell to the floor.

Further aggravated, Strumfelder reached down and tugged the boy up by the collar of his coat, and pushed him against the wall of a building to the side of the pavement. “Erklären Sie mir, warum Sie gerade an mich stießen, ein Mitglied der deutschen Auslese?” Strumfelder let his one eye bore aggressively into the child before him. He kept his right gloved hand pressed tightly into the boys shoulder. This would probably slow him down slightly, but he wasn’t going to put up with a ten year old boy disrespecting him, Aryan or not.

Translations
“Erklären Sie mir, warum Sie gerade an mich stießen, ein Mitglied der deutschen Auslese?”
~ Explain to me why you just bumped into me, boy, a member of the German elite?

[olivervontrapp]

In all of a deep sudden, Oliver felt something or someone pick him up by the collar and roughly slam him against the stone cold wall. Oliver didn't give a big reaction although he did feel quite scared. He kept his glance on the man for a few minutes. The man seemed quite familiar although it didn't quite ring a bell in his mind. He knew him from somewhere, he knew that. He remembered his face from a few weeks ago. He remembered his father talking to him about something. He didn't quite remembered. Oliver supposed they were greatly aquainted because they were both Austrian.

“Erklären Sie mir, warum Sie gerade an mich stießen, ein Mitglied der deutschen Auslese?”

Oliver couldn't find the right words to say because several words were gathering themselves up in his mind and they were practically flying everywhere. Sort of like gas molecules. He learnt about the three states of matter during Science class. He never forgot what he learnt. He was a good little boy, right? "Um..Um." He cleared his throat, trying to find the good words to say again. "Oliver Von Trapp, herr." Said Oliver when the man directed him as boy. "Und ich Gerechtigkeit sah Sie dort Herr nicht." ][Translations: [1] Oliver Von Trapp, sir. [2] And I honestly didn't see you there sir.]

Oliver was speaking of the truth and nothing but the truth. He was deadly scared and people would notice that due to the contrast of his voice. He did not know this stranger very well and so therefore he did not want to step in his way. "Es tut mir leid, dass, Herr."[Translations: I'm sorry, sir.]

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

“So erklären Sie mir, Jungen, dass Sie nicht haben korrektes Sehvermögen, sogar an Ihrem Alter? Ich lasse Sie mich kennen ließ dieses Auge brennen heraus versuchen, einen jungen Jungen wie Sie zu speichern! Aber schon, kann ich noch sehen, wohin ich gehe!” Strumfelder pointed to his eye patch, which covered the hollow in the left side of his skull. He stared menacingly at the boy, this young Aryan boy. In the end all he did was sigh. This boy was youthful, and maybe did not understand Strumfelder’s importance to the Party.

Although, he could maybe use this boy… The girl, she would often leave to go somewhere, and he was becoming increasingly annoyed at this. She may only be gone for an hour, but Strumfelder was always jumpy while she was not in his immediate grasp. He would soon have to find a solution to this increasingly large problem. A bullet seemed the most likely.

However, this boy was of Aryan birth. He would obviously help Strumfelder if he believed he would be helping the Führer. If this boy and the girl were to associate, then he would make sure she didn’t wander off, and hopefully indoctrinate her into the Party ways, through his HJ training. “Junge, kommen mit mir.” Strumfelder ordered as he rose to his feet. He walked on, back towards his penthouse.

He once again glanced down at this Aryan boy, his brown-blond hair, his blue eyes. Hopefully a powerful tool. “Also, Oliver von Tappp,” Strumfelder spoke, recognising the aristocratic ‘von’ in the name. “Haben Sie viele Freunde? An der Schule oder bei Ihrem Jungvolk? Irgendwelche Geschwister?”

Translations:
“So erklären Sie mir, Jungen, dass Sie nicht haben korrektes Sehvermögen, sogar an Ihrem Alter? Ich lasse Sie mich kennen ließ dieses Auge brennen heraus versuchen, einen jungen Jungen wie Sie zu speichern! Aber schon, kann ich noch sehen, wohin ich gehe!”
~ So you are telling me, boy, that you don't have proper eyesight, even at your age? I will have you know I had this eye burnt out trying to save a young boy like you! But yet, I can still see where I walk!

“Junge, kommen mit mir.”
~ Boy, come with me.

“Haben Sie viele Freunde? An der Schule oder bei Ihrem Jungvolk? Irgendwelche Geschwister?”
~ Do you have many friends? At school or at your Jungvolk? Any siblings?

[olivervontrapp]

“So erklären Sie mir, Jungen, dass Sie nicht haben korrektes Sehvermögen, sogar an Ihrem Alter? Ich lasse Sie mich kennen ließ dieses Auge brennen heraus versuchen, einen jungen Jungen wie Sie zu speichern! Aber schon, kann ich noch sehen, wohin ich gehe!”

Oliver bit the bottom of his lip whilst staring fiercly at the ground. He shook his head. "Nein, herr." He replied in a low tone of voice feeling a tab' scared that the man would actually send him to prison for commiting such an upmost crime. He glanced around to see if anyone was coming. All he could see were people walking past him and the man, ignoring the scene as if it were just a mere feather. He put his hands into his pockets for he was feeling quite cold. He hated cold weather, although, Berlin wouldn't be Berlin without cold weather. He slightly sighed, glancing back up at the man.

Oliver wondered what the man was thinking. He embraced a quizzical look whilst keeping his stare on the man. Oliver wished he could read people's mind. It would be interesting, very interesting. He wondered what he would find out from reading people's mind. Their secrets, their ambitions, their thoughts. Ooh, so many excellent things. Although, Oliver knew that nobody could read a person's mind or that would be terribly ubnormal. His mother always told him - "If you ever see a person talking to themselves, just walk away and never go near them again."

[/b] Spectacular, wasn't it? Living on the streets of Berlin.

“Junge, kommen mit mir.”

Should I go? He asked himself thoroughly. He didn't exactly know the man too well to follow his footsteps. Yet, the man seemed to be ordering him. Oliver thought that he should do so or he would find himself in lots of trouble. Oliver wasn't really a troublemaker to be quite honest. He was just a boy lost in his own imaginary war world. He wanted to become a soldier, yet something was stopping him from doing so and he did not know what it was. He decided to follow this man. He began following the man's footsteps for he did not want to get into any trouble at the moment.

“Haben Sie viele Freunde? An der Schule oder bei Ihrem Jungvolk? Irgendwelche Geschwister?”

Oliver glanced up at the man with his blue eyes. He again bit the bottom of his lip nervously. He actually didn't know where Gretyl was, his younger sister. Neither did he know where his mother and father were. He woke up that following morning finding nobody in sight. He was slightly confused. He nodded. He did of course go to Jungvolk, which boy did not? "Uh ja Herr. Ich habe viele Freunde, und ich habe eine Schwester genannt Gretyl. Sie ist acht." He slightly narrowed his head down. "Obwohl, seltsam, ich nicht weiß, wo meine Familie im Moment ist." [Translations: [1] Uh yes sir. I've got many friends and I've got a sister named Gretyl. She's eight. [2] Although, strangely, I don't know where my family is at the moment.][/blockquote]

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Strumfelder’s eye darted over the boy at this last comment. He looked very well dressed for some runaway living on the streets, especially at this part of the winter. And the Kripo would have picked him up if they had found him sleeping rough, and then probably thrown him inside a cell, so as not spoil the Führer’s empire’s centre. And the boy also seemed very Aryan, not Roma scum that deserved to be in camps, working away. Should they even be in camps? They would obviously steal all the tools, as well as the wood for the huts, just to burn. Ha! Strumfelder allowed himself the little snippet of humour.

“Und was über die Hitler-Jugend? Was über Ihre Freunde dort? Welcher Maßeinheit sind Sie Teil? Ich kann Sie vorher gesehen haben” Strumfelder decided to turn the conversation. He needed to know what this boy thought of Germany, what he had been taught about her greatness. He would happily associate with a boy of the HJ, but one that wasn’t was simply being lied to and had to be educated properly. It was despicable to lie to children, especially about these matters of race.

The boy himself looked harmless enough. He certainly respected his superiors and elders, which was never a bad thing. His parents must have educated him well. Ah, another sign of German supremacy. We taught our children good morals and good life lessons. They were put through school to learn what they needed, so they could better provide for the fatherland. Unlike in places to the east, where children, who could barely speak, we thrown out into the fields to work days on end, to support their corrupt government figures. At least Germany was now freeing them from the tyraical rule of Stalin, and putting them to better use.

The pair carried on, back towards Strumfelder’s Berlin penthouse. He needed to pick up the girl and send her out so she could learn, and not just sit in that bloody closet all day and do nothing more than read. After all. The Führer had said himself that a youth who was strong, fit and healthy was a much better aid to Germany, than some child who could memorise facts.

Strumfelder also had a letter to post, and something to collect, which the boy could help him carry. And if he didn’t know where his family was, Strumfelder could take him in as the caring man on the street who took pity on him, and then find a friend for the girl, even if the only thing that brat seemed to like was jumbled symbols etched into and endless number of pieces of paper.

Transaltions:
“Und was über die Hitler-Jugend? Was über Ihre Freunde dort? Welcher Maßeinheit sind Sie Teil? Ich kann Sie vorher gesehen haben”
~ And what about the Hitler Youth? What about your friends there? Which unit are you part of? I may have seen you before.

[olivervontrapp]

As they both kept on walking, Oliver couldn't help but notice how the man's eyes darted towards him as he spoke his last comment. Oliver gulped. Oh, god, this was his last second. Use it well! Use it well! He thought. No? But it turned to be quite the opposite of death. He was alive. This made Oliver smile on the inside. He didn't want to die. He was much too young to die anyways. Ah bloody hell! What's the use of living anyway? ..No Oliver, don't think like that. That's horrible. He thought to himself. Why was he so mentally sociable and not physically sociable. It was merely pathetic.

“Und was über die Hitler-Jugend? Was über Ihre Freunde dort? Welcher Maßeinheit sind Sie Teil? Ich kann Sie vorher gesehen haben”

Oliver nodded. Of course he had friends from Hitler Jugend. He hung out with them from time to time and they all played happily together. Well, they sort of did. He would play war with them, one of them would be the Allies, the enemies, Oliver would call them and the other half would be the Axis/Nazi. Oliver would usually be on the Axis side. He was very proud of it too. He loved defending his country. He did want to become a soldier, he really did. He would, of course, usually win with playfully shooting his friends right through the chest with his pretend sniper. It was amazingly fun. Terribly fun. "Jugend von Hitler enorm, Herr. Größtenteils sind alle meine Freunde wahre Arier, ich Denke. Und ich neige dazu, mit ihnen von Zeit zu Zeit herauszuhängen. Ich habe einen besten Freund genannt Dennis. Ich denke meine Nummer vier Einheit." [Translations: [1] Hitler Youth's tremendous, sir. Mostly all my friends are true Aryans, I Suppose. And I tend to hang out with them from time to time. I've got a best friend named Dennis. I think my unit's number four.]

He continued walking down the path. He then noticed that they had stopped at the post office. He glanced around, biting the bottom of his lip. He noticed a few Nazi officers strolling around the post office. Interesting. Nazi territory? He asked himself mentally making note of the place as he kept examining it with icy blue eyes. All of a sudden, one of the men ruffled his hair. Oliver felt a tab' awkward. They must of noticed he was of the Aryan race. He put both his hands in his pockets. He watched a few men in the corner laughing themselves crazy about something.

Oliver sighed, exhaling and inhaling the cold air around him. He couldn't help but rub his shoulders. He then glanced up at the man. He wondered whereabouts the man was going to take him next. He wondered if the man knew his father. He probably did. His father was a well known member of the German elite.