Like a Knife To The Heart [Rafael Wolfram]

[Matthaeus Hinrichs]

Country: Berlin, Germany
Current Time: 1645 Hours
Weather Conditions: Overcast skies

The sky had turned to a weird shade a blue, lighter then usual as it made a tie-dye mixture of three different shades of blue. On the western side where that sun had begun to position itself was a lighter shade of blue, the lightest in the whole sky, dazzled with a hint of orange glow from the sun. Towards the east was the darkest of blues, covered with moderate splashes of white-ish gray clouds that made the perfect accent to the middle of these two directions where the sky was a Neutral shade of blue that made the perfect setting for a nice walk.

The office work in the German army honestly bugged the hell out of Matthaeus. One moment you thought you were finished and the next your desk was covered with even more paper work. Mountains of paper work that was begging to be finished. This is why it was a key for Matthaeus to get up, and out of the office for a nice walk around Berlin. Being stationed in Africa wasn’t the best of places as it was hot and there was not much to see, but in Berlin you were directly in the heart of the fatherland itself. It was nice to be able to get up and away from the Spartan wood desk and the dark gloomy office with the dark wood door having the glass window. The glass window was a foggy glass that was splashed with black letters reading Leutnant Matthaeus Hinrichs. This was probably the worst thing to look at yet the only thing Matthaeus had to look at. Matthaeus’s office was located right in the middle of the Reich headquarters; therefore he had no windows, except for the one foggy glassed window on his door, but what was there to see in the Reich Headquarters and who could see through a fogged glass window?

Matthaeus continued through the streets of Berlin, looking for something that would catch his attention or something for him to eat. Matthaeus was quite tired of the same old military issued food; therefore he would treat himself once a week to a nice meal at one of the local restaurants or pubs. Every time meeting someone new that would make somewhat of a bond to him as he did not have the amount of friends that most people around Berlin had. The last time he had gone to the local pub Matthaeus had met a man by the name of Edward McMillan. Quite a character that guy was, though he had a lot of information to tell. Down the line he had mentioned the name of Rafael Wolfram. Once again something interesting as he was the Major for the 3rd SS Division. Someone Matthaeus looked up to as a commander because from what he had heard about he was splendid. Nothing Matthaeus could say for himself. He had gone through one scouting mission only to get shot in the chest early and have to leave so the Italians could finish the job. Embarrassing if you ask me.

Soon though these thoughts had once again left the head of Matthaeus as he had only made it right through the first part of the German headquarters. Matthaeus couldn’t help but notice something strange, a man that looked of different race and not in a German uniform snooping around through the munitions of the Army itself. Matthaeus continued through the path but kept his one eye on this man looking around the munitions depots. Soon enough the man began to take something’s, looking like some small arms ammunition. With that Matthaeus adjusted the eye patch across his face and began to quicken his pace a bit but still kept it slow enough were he was not emitting noise to scare this guy away, He wanted to find out what he was doing here. Soon enough the man was within looking distance and Matthaeus noticed something different about him. He looked something of different dissent then German, possibly Slavic? A few yards later Matthaeus could see what the man was taking, and bag loads of it. Handfuls after handfuls of Rifle ammunition, along with larger shells. Matthaeus felt a sudden rush of anger rush through him as he finally was in distance to reach out and touch the man. With that Matthaeus grabbed the man’s shoulder and threw him against the wall, pressing all his weight against the man’s back. ”Wer sind Sie und was sind Sie tuend, denen Oberteilgestalt annehmend die deutsche Armee?” Matthaeus soon took out some rope that was in his back pocket, just for situations like this. Matthaeus whipped it out and tied the hands together before kicking out one of the man’s knees from behind. All of Matthaeus’s movements were quick and to the point. Without another word Matthaeus took one of his hands and covered the Slav’s mouth and began to lead him towards the Reich Headquarters.

Soon enough Matthaeus was standing outside of the office of Major Rafael Wolfram. Without any form of knocking or such things he reached down and turned the knob, then pushed the door open. It swung open and the hinges, needing oil or lubricant, creaked the whole entire time the door was opening. Matthaeus kept the man moving towards the Spartan desk and the dropped the Slav to his knees with a hard kick to the back of his kneecap. Matthaeus looked straight at the Major and raise one hand to the brim of his hat, giving the respectful salute to the man before telling him ”Nachmittag geehrter Herr, fand ich diesen Mann wandering um das Reich Munitionsyard. Als ich genug zu ihm nah erhielt, verstand ich was er wirklich tat, dieser Mann, der hier versucht wurde, um Munitions vom Vaterland zu stehlen und sollte dementsprechend bestraft werden. With that Matthaeus back up two steps and then spun around to shut the door behind him before turning around to face the Major once again.

Translations:
”Wer sind Sie und was sind Sie tuend, denen Oberteilgestalt annehmend die deutsche Armee?”
“Who are you and what are you doing taking those shells form the German Army?”
”Nachmittag geehrter Herr, fand ich diesen Mann wandering um das Reich Munitionsyard. Als ich genug zu ihm nah erhielt, verstand ich was er wirklich tat, dieser Mann, der hier versucht wurde, um Munitions vom Vaterland zu stehlen und sollte dementsprechend bestraft werden.”
“Afternoon sir, I found this man wandering around the Reich munitions yard. When I got close enough to him I understood what he was really doing, this man here attempted to steal Munitions from the Fatherland and should be punished accordingly.”

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

The office was immensely quiet, even the faint ticking from a gold embodied wall clock hanging above the office door could be heard with apparent hearing from across the opposite side of the room and the soft squeaking, stretching and rubbing of leather also emitted a faint murmur each time Sturmbannführer Wolfram moved within the leather armchair he was sitting on. So things were incredibly quiet and the Sturmbannführer wasn’t negligent to the prosper of having a bit of quiet time to himself. Then again, perhaps he had too much of that lately. Silence and living the drawl of a quiet existence, pushing pens and filing paperwork; was he truly cut out for this line of work? The last time he checked, he was a commanding officer, but he hasn’t seen the light of battle for a long period now. Not since the transformation of his division erupted, perhaps it was time to file a cocky direct request to be appointed back on the field, given the benefit of the doubt and hurled straight into the onslaught once more.

The thoughts played on his mind solemnly, with every scribble he made on the documents at hand, he couldn’t help but feel a desire and compassion to get back into the action. The loss of his son had taken him a turn for the worse, the eventful day of the ‘munich riots’ changed a lot of lives, including a couple of his close companions whom he wouldn’t recognise anymore. Things had changed completely now and he was still standing after all this time, although the passion for justice and revenge had never left him, he had conjured the inner strength to live with it; deal with the possibility that the vermin who murdered his son and dozen more innocent bystanders that day will never be found, will never be brought to some kind of justice. The thought always struck a bad nerve, but he was coping, he was dealing with it - right?

Resting his black fountain pen down against the desktop, he shuffled a few files of paper together and rested them to the side of his desk, exhaling heavily as he looked to a mantle framed picture of young Wolfrick Wolfram. His son was dressed in a Hitler Youth uniform; brown shirt, dark knee height shorts and a dark tanned belt around his little waist, with suspenders over his shoulders to hold his knee-cut trousers up. He looked so mature, yet so young. Extending his hand across the desk he gently stroked his fingers across Wolfrick’s face and fought back the emotion that feared to break him down into a grovelling old buffoon. He’d said his farewells, made his peace, but he would never be able to forgive those who took away pride and joy, the only reason he prospered to live. His only real family. He was always married to the Schutzstaffel (SS), his loyalties ran deep, but there would never be another son like Wolfrick, with his blonde wavy hair and pearly blue eyes. He looked like his father, with the compassion of his mother - god rest her soul.

Suddenly his thoughts were abolished as his office door swung open without no acknowledgement and a Leutnant stormed into the room, with another casually dressed male whom he didn’t recognise by face or reputation. The Sturmbannführer immediately stood from the confines of his warm comfortable leather chair and glared at the two men before himself, only noticing that the casually dressed man had his hands bound behind his back, with what seemed to be rope? Sturmbannführer Wolfram’s face pulled a quizzical look of confusion, toiled with a mixture of anger and annoyance as to why the Leutnant had so rudely stormed into his office with such an atrocity of an ill dressed man whom only could be compared to a Eastern European male; his low brow and distinguishable rough looking features gave away any sense of mystery as to where his patriot of nationality laid, particularly to a well vetted and experienced SS officer, there was no mystery left to dig.

Immediately Sturmbannführer Wolfram tightened his jaw, almost ready to bawl out and have the Leutnant flogged for such incompetence he was showing, more so when he reported the man was a thief caught in the munitions yard - what did this have to do with Sturmbannführer Wolfram!? The security had been breached, this man now knew the insides of a high security Reich Headquarters and more to the point, the whole stunt could have been organised for this type of intervention. Moving around the desk, Sturmbannführer Wolfram stood directly before the two men and puffed his chest out, his one pearly blue eye and crimson eye waded a long glare of in un-satisfaction to both of the men. “Leutnant, was die Bedeutung davon ist!?” Sturmbannführer Wolfram snapped towards the officer who had protruded into the confines of his office without authority. “Und warum in aller Welt haben Sie diesem unbedeutenden Dieb zu meiner Tür gebracht?” he questioned with a vigorous tone, looking towards the thief merely standing there with his head bowed, ignoring any eye contact with the two officers.

Feeling something turn within his gut, Sturmbannführer Wolfram couldn’t help but feel an instinct kick in, a sixth sense almost. Stepping in front of the prisoner, the Sturmbannführer clasped the man by his jaw and lifted his head to face level, again, the gut feeling continued and Sturmbannführer Wolfram stared at the man who suddenly began to look familiar? The eyes, the shape of the lips, the small stubble beard that was patchy across his cheeks and neck, just the small familiarities he couldn’t help but start to recognise. Was he… Was he one of the Slavs during the riots? The Munich riots? The Sturmbannführer pushed the thoughts aside, how could such a coincidence or unearthly intervention fall at his doorstep like this, it couldn’t be, the man couldn’t be one of the foolish Slavic partisans responsible for a dozen or more deaths that day, his son’s death.

Something clicked inside of the Sturmbannführer’s mind and a memory flashed behind his eyes, there was a man outside of the toyshop just prior to his son’s death, before the Slavic partisans rioted. Yes. He was standing there, smoking a cigarette and walked straight past himself, Erhard Strumfelder and the good Doctor who was busy talking to his young boy. “Ich erinnere mich…” Sturmbannführer Wolfram softly mumbled to himself, he remembered the man, the face, the gruff unshaven beard and the piercing brown eyes that stared at him as he walked past the trio of officers back in Munich. This was that man, he was sure of it…

Feeling his hand begin to tighten around the thief’s throat, Sturmbannführer Wolfram’s face changed beneath the surface, his lips trembling as he fought the rage within his stomach, his eyes widened by the truth he knew deep down inside. The prisoner’s face began to stretch in fear, his breathing quickening as he felt the Sturmbannführer’s grasp tighten like a noose around his neck from where he held his head up to face him. “Schließen Sie die Tür Leutnant und ziehen Sie die Rolläden JETZT!” the Sturmbannführer ordered immediately, his posture and demeanour as a whole suddenly transforming, he was angry, very angry and barely held his posture beneath the surface of his skin. This man had questions to answer and Sturmbannführer Wolfram was going to get his answers, it was god’s will, this was god’s work, this was too much of a coincidence to be true or real.

Translations:[/b]

Leutnant, was die Bedeutung davon ist!?
- Leutnant what is the meaning of this!?

Und warum in aller Welt haben Sie diesem unbedeutenden Dieb zu meiner Tür gebracht?
- And why on Earth have you brought this petty thief to my door?

Ich erinnere mich…
- I remember...

Schließen Sie die Tür Leutnant und ziehen Sie die Rolläden JETZT!
- Lock the door Leutnant and draw the blinds, NOW!

[Matthaeus Hinrichs]

[[OOC: I hope you don’t mind Matthaeus starting off with the beating?]]

The slightly older CO that sat across from where Matthaeus was standing had yet to make a noise. He looked as if he was in deep train of though, possibly trying to absorb the fact of Matthaeus bringing someone inside of the headquarters itself instead of executing the man right then and there. Even Matthaeus was unsure why he decided to bring the thief to the Major, although it did make since seeing as he was the highest ranked out of all the officers at the moment.

Suddenly the Officer spoke up, and instead of talking he burst out with a bit of anger in his voice. Matthaeus was blown back by the anger towards his actions and suddenly was speechless. He still had no idea why he brought the thief to the Major, but it seemed fit to do that at the moment when Matthaeus found him stealing munitions. This was all shook from Matthaeus’s head as the young CO spoke up to the Major ” Es schien, die rechte Sache zu sein, zum in meinem Verstand zu tun; nachdem alle Sie vom höchsten Rank in den Hauptsitzen sind.” Matthaeus suddenly trailed off a bit though, knowing that he sounded rude to the superior and watched as the CO went into a bit of thought. The room finally fell to the silence as the Major looked at the man, inspecting him of his facial features from the look of things. Matthaeus himself also wondered what the thief looked like exactly, he had yet had the chance to look closely.

The silence continued as the Major looked to be a bit disturbed, but this time not at Matthaeus. It almost looked like he was saddened by the sight of the Slav thief. This made Matthaeus also begin to think a bit about his current actions; did he just make the right decision to bring the thief into the office of the highest ranking officer in the Reich Headquarters? After all it did seem to be the smartest decision but it still wasn’t setting in just right, what was the Major thinking about? It couldn’t possibly be something about Matthaeus could it? Even if it did, they had a thief on their hands now; Matthaeus would more then likely get punished a bit later on once the situation was dealt with the thief.

Suddenly the silence of the room was killed as the Major broke out a few words. MAthtaeus could not make out what he had said and began to think about possible things that could be said at this moment. Was it to Matthaeus or was it to be kept to him? Still Matthaeus was confused and unsure on what to do, wanting to make something out of him for the time being he leaned back on the heel of his shoes and twisted the lock for the door. It made a clicking sound once finished and sounded like it echoed through the room. Matthaeus cringed as the sound bounced from wall to wall until finally silenced by the screams of the Major. Finally Matthaeus felt relieved as it wasn’t for once reprimanding him for what he had done. This time it was an order to lock the door, which had already been done, and draw the blinds closed. A sudden rush of excitement ran through Matthaeus as he looked around, not wanting the Thief to be able to run off and make his way out of the Headquarters Matthaeus walked over towards the first blind, near the Majors desk and pulled down on the shade until it finally locked in place. Matthaeus walked over to the second shade, then to the third and then to the fourth, and last shade. When all had been closed Matthaeus spun on his shoes and continued towards the Major’s desk, looking for something in particular. Finally MAthtaeus found exactly what he was looking for, a gun. There sat a STG 45 semi automatic rifle. Big and bulky enough to bust a kneecap, just what Matthaeus was looking for it to do. Picking up the Rifle Matthaeus quickened his steps towards the Thief as the Thief began to make a bit more noise, trying to struggle out of the rope. Matthaeus looked directly into the Major’s eyes before positioning the rifle in his hands, backwards though. Then almost half a second later Matthaeus lifted the unloaded gun into the air and sent the butt end crashing into the man’s right kneecap, sending off a loud blood curling snapping sound followed by the muffled screams of the Slav himself.

Matthaeus then looked straight up and directly at the Major ”Er sollte nicht nirgends jetzt gehen…” Matthaeus trailed off as he then picked the gun back up off of the Thief and set it in his own hands before walking back behind the desk. Once Matthaeus had made it there, he set the gun, butt end first, on the floor where he took it and leaned it up against the wall, the way he found it. Matthaeus smiled a bit and then spoke up again ”Was ist, Sir folgend?” Matthaeus trailed off a bit into silence as he waited for him to answer, ready to follow the Major’s orders.


Translations:
”Es schien, die rechte Sache zu sein, zum in meinem Verstand zu tun; nachdem alle Sie vom höchsten Rank in den Hauptsitzen sind.”
It seemed to be the right thing to do in my mind; after all you are of highest rank in the headquarters.

” Er sollte nicht nirgends jetzt gehen…”
He shouldnt be going anywhere now...

” Was ist, Sir folgend?”
What is next, Sir?

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

The clasped grip around the prisoner’s throat tightened, faint white blotches appearing across the Sturmbannführer’s knuckles and joints, the strain from the muscles in his forearm tightening against the smooth fabric of his dark tunic sleeve and the veins spreading across the back of his hand bulged against the surface of his skin. The whole while, the prisoner’s face tensed with a perception of awe and shock, the whites of his eyes widening the whole while Sturmbannführer Wolfram held the man by the stretch of his throat, like a chicken to the chopping block; answers were needed and the Sturmbannführer remembered the man, well enough that he remembered the face on that traumatic day, moments before all manner of the devil’s torment arose.

As the Leutnant busied himself locking the door and closing the blinds, the Sturmbannführer slowly released his grip from the prisoner’s throat and fought against the inner-demons portraying a whole manner of barbaric thoughts before he’d even started; this wasn’t any ordinary case and the Sturmbannführer had been waiting for this moment cometh a lifetime. As if by some ulterior and grand divination of God himself, a possible lead was brought straight too him. He knew without a matter of a fact that the prisoner was Slavic orientated and most likely held quite a significance to the partisan group tied to the coined Munich Riots - but he needed to hear it to be sure, he needed to hear the man fess up and answer all the deep questions he had causing a turmoil inside of him. This may finally be the day he got some answers… One step closer at least.

Cockily the Leutnant brushed past the Sturmbannführer wielding his Sturmgewehr-45 and crashed the heavy shoulder stock of the weapon down against the prisoner’s leg, knee to be precise, sending the Slavic man down against the wooden chair he had placed in front of his desk. The Slav yelled in inevitable pain and the screams bounced from off the walls like a racketing child’s cry, piercing the eardrums. What on Earth was the Leutnant playing at!? The Sturmbannführer dashed forwards quickly, ignoring the Leutnant’s cocky remark that the man shouldn’t be going anywhere now and immediately covered the prisoner’s agape mouth, his faint murmuring still audible behind the smothering palm of his hand, concealing the yearning cries of the prisoner. Irritably, Sturmbannführer Wolfram looked to the Leutnant and snarled beneath his breath as he spoke behind clenched teeth: “Sie Idiot! Machen Sie Spaß!” he berated the Leutnant, the prisoner slowly calming from the pain, allowing the Sturmbannführer to release his mouth and stand straight, glaring towards the Leutnant.

Walking over with a vast stride to his step, Sturmbannführer Wolfram grabbed the Leutnant by the throat with both hands and shoved him against the window of his office. The blinds rattled uncontrollably and the Sturmbannführer leaned in close to the Leutnant’s face; his one pearly blue eye and crimson red eye digging holes through the back of the Leutnant’s skull as he glared straight at him to speak in an ushered aggressive tone behind his gritted teeth once more. “Was tut, denken Sie, dass Sie an Leutnant spielen!? Wenn SS-Brigadeführer Winke den Tumult hören, der in diesem Büro und see's weitergeht, was wir tun, was tut, denken Sie wird Sie Idiot geschehen? Wie!?” he started, taking a long breath to speak again as he pressed against the Leutnant’s throat, staring him down. “Und tun Sie nicht Sie berühren jemals JEMALS meine Waffe wieder” the Sturmbannführer added, letting go of the officer slowly to step back and speak a little more calmly, but the fire still burned within him. “Dieses Slawische bumst wird mit viel mehr verbunden, als Sie sich Leutnant vorstellen können und ich Antworten brauche, so gehen Sie nicht, irgendetwas auf seinem Körper brechend, wenn ich so sage. Sein die einzige Leitung habe ich, Leutnant für meinen Sohn” Sturmbannführer Wolfram lastly said, turning his attention towards the man sitting in the chair, who was leaning forwards and sobbing under his breath, murmuring a prayer.

They needed to gag the prisoner, the Slav couldn’t be heard and they couldn’t be found out as to what they were doing in the Reich Headquarters under everyone’s noses. This was Sturmbannführer Wolfram’s personal vendetta and they didn’t have time to waste, he needed the answers now and he was going to get them. Looking to the Leutnant once more, he pointed to the man’s waist belt and simply said “Nehmen Sie Ihren Riemen weg und binden Sie es um seinen Mund. Schnallen Sie ihn zum Stuhl auch, Leutnant fest. Das kann eine Weile nehmen” and with that, Sturmbannführer Wolfram began to undo his uniform tunic slowly, popping undone the buttons as he waited for the Leutnant to gag and tie the prisoner to the chair. Perhaps a little music would help?

Walking across the room, Sturmbannführer Wolfram reached out for his wind-up-crank record player and grinned to himself slowly as he lowered the hand down upon the now slowly spinning record; a sharp scratching noise emitting as the hand touched down on the record and the Waffen-SS: Sieg Heil Viktoria begun to play within the room. The Sturmbannführer’s fingers twisting the volume knob slowly, turning the volume up slowly, before he continued to take off his tunic and fold it up between his arms, turning to face the middle of the room with a long grin across his face.

Translations:[/b]

Sie Idiot! Machen Sie Spaß!
- You imbecile! Fool!

Was tut, denken Sie, dass Sie an Leutnant spielen!? Wenn SS-Brigadeführer Winke den Tumult hören, der in diesem Büro und see's weitergeht, was wir tun, was tut, denken Sie wird Sie Idiot geschehen? Wie!?
- What do you think you're playing at Leutnant!? If SS-Brigadeführer Becks hears the commotion going on in this office and see's what we're doing, what do you think will happen you idiot? Eh!?

Und tun Sie nicht Sie berühren jemals JEMALS meine Waffe wieder.
- And don't you ever, EVER, touch my weapon again.

Dieses Slawische bumst wird mit viel mehr verbunden, als Sie sich Leutnant vorstellen können und ich Antworten brauche, so gehen Sie nicht, irgendetwas auf seinem Körper brechend, wenn ich so sage. Sein die einzige Leitung habe ich, Leutnant für meinen Sohn.
- This Slavic fuck is connected to a lot more than you may imagine Leutnant and I need answers, so don't go breaking anything on his body unless I say so. His the only lead I have, Leutnant, for my son.

Nehmen Sie Ihren Riemen weg und binden Sie es um seinen Mund. Schnallen Sie ihn zum Stuhl auch, Leutnant fest. Das kann eine Weile nehmen.
- Take your belt off and tie it around his mouth. Strap him to the chair too, Leutnant. This may take a while.

[Matthaeus Hinrichs]

Matthaeus couldn’t feel any better that he had just accomplished sending the prisoner down to the ground. For what he knew, the prisoner was only a pig that stole from the Germans because he was not in the right mind. Or at least something of that matter. He couldn’t think that he would have done anything wrong at all, the prisoner was to be punished and now Matthaeus and Wolfram could dispose of him accordingly.

This was all true until the Major’s hand was wrapped around Matthaeus’s throat. The hands began to tighten as he struggled for air, gasping and sucking in as much as he could get through his throat that was now basically closed up. He had insulted Matthaeus, calling him a fool, but this was just about right. Matthaeus had made the prisoner scream when he didn’t even belong in the building. The prisoner belonged dead, on the spot, once Matthaeus had found him stealing.

Finally the Major let his grasp go as he pushed Matthaeus a bit like a piece of trash that he had acted like. The young officer was new, cocky of course, and had no idea how much trouble this could get the two officers in. The Slav was in the Major’s office; he didn’t belong in the headquarters, and was now screaming. It was only soon enough that the head man would come along and hear the screaming before coming in and court marshaling the both of them.

Finally the young Slavic thief had shut his mouth, causing the room to fall to silence. That was until the major came with yet another out burst to Matthaeus. This time it was an order. An order to tie the man down to a chair and strap his mouth closed. Matthaeus was fine with this, as it was his idea to bring the man in for some questioning, but Matthaeus had little idea what the questioning would soon turn into or how intense it would get.

Matthaeus looked for the man’s waist, the Slav of course, and felt for a belt. There sat one, strapped in the loops of his pants. It was made out of some cheap leather, the kind that would get hot and melt if it sat in the African sand. Of course these men didn’t have the money for fancy clothing like Matthaeus. Only because the Slav had no job or work that paid him. He only went out against the Nazis and tried to stop everything they had established. The man was saying something, it sounded like a prayer and Matthaeus grabbed the man’s face and forced it to look at him ”Erklärte ich Ihnen zu sprechen?” The slav mumbled something to him and Matthaeus just pushed his head down towards the ground again and sternly said to him ”Sie schlossen Ihre öffnung.”

With that Matthaeus whipped off the Slav’s belt and grabbed the other end with his right hand. Matthaeus then quickly yanked on both sides, strapping across the man’s mouth so that he could not make anymore loud noises that would give him away. Lastly Matthaeus made the move for his own belt, luckily he was wearing tight pants so that once his belt was off they would not fall down easily. Then he pulled a chair from the corner of the room and placed it in the middle of the room, away from the door and away from the windows. Matthaeus could only feel a slight burn through his body as he grabbed the Slav by the shirt and dragged him across the floor and to the chair. Pulling at his collar hard the man stood onto his one good leg and then was dropped hard onto the chair as Matthaeus strapped him on with the belt. Matthaeus then looked up at Rafael and told him ”Ihre Aufträge werden, HauptWolfram beendet.” There was only one thing that was itching at Matthaeus so he asked him ”Jetzt war was das über Ihren Sohn, Sir?”



Translations:

”Erklärte ich Ihnen zu sprechen?”
“Did I tell you to talk?”

”Sie schlossen Ihre öffnung.”
“You shut your mouth.”

” Ihre Aufträge werden, HauptWolfram beendet.”
“Your orders are finished, Major Wolfram.”

”Jetzt war was das über Ihren Sohn, Sir?”
“Now what was that about your son, Sir?”

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

The following CP has been issued:

Hinrichs - 5CP

Wolfram - 4CP

-JT