Knife and Day, Murder, murder yes indeed.

[Rudolf Steiner]

Time: 9:15 am
Location: Berlin
Weather: Nice and Sunny

It had been far too early as Stephan could tell as his groggy head lazily shifted on his pillow to look out of the window, "Fick, ruft mich so verdammt früh am Morgen verdammt!" Stephan mumbled to himself as he forced himself to roll out of bed vehemently swearing all the way into the bathroom where he took his usual morning piss, a shower and brushed his teeth before returning to the bedroom where he reached into the closet to retrieve his neatly ironed SS-Waffen Uniform and placed it on the bed. SS-Untersturmführer Kaiser had just returned from an assignment given to him in France merely a few hours before this God forsaken assignment now, he was debriefed through the telephone and was asked to report to the location ASAP. Going downstairs he found a mug of coffee awaiting him with the morning news on the coffee table. One of the servants must have overheard him stomping and swearing upstairs and knew that their master had awoken. At the young age of twenty two, Stephan lived as a bachelor in the Kasier manor in Berlin, only he and his host of servants, butler, gardeners and assorted hired help lived in the mansion. The last thing the officer had informed him via telephone was that his expertise as an SS officer was needed in this affair. Stephan was still not completely conscious at this point so he did not have an inkling of a clue what that person was barking on about.

Stephan always liked to take his sweet time in everything he did, he was always fashionably late in his eyes. Stephan took the paper and the coffee to the sitting room, sipping his coffee with the morning cigarette, his daily ritual. He did not particularly feel like breakfast and was going to merely have an early lunch today, he though to himself. Draining the dregs of his coffee he went upstairs and got dressed. Outside the sun blinded him the moment he stepped out. Once outside, a couple passing by noticed his uniform and gave him the Nazi salute, to which he proudly returned, it was moments like this that made him extremely proud of what he had become. Taking the usual route as always on foot, his preferred method of transportation, to show his uniform off, and to enjoy his favorite hobby, people watching. For example on this bright sunny morning for example a young boy donned in the Nazi Youth uniform trotted up to Stephan, paused and looked up at him admirably. A moment that this so called hard lined, fanatic officer, as some of his soldiers and prisoners call him was a moment he would never forget. The boy was admiring his uniform, giving him the Nazi salute he continued trotting off to join a group of other boys who stood watching Stephan.

The rest of his journey was quite uneventful except for the small chat he had at the grocer's with the cashier as he bought himself two packs of cigarettes. The man chatted on and on with Stephan regarding his line of work and the SS and how they contribute to the welfare of the Third Reich. Continuing on he had finally reached his destination, no longer was he greeted with looks of admiration and smiles but looks of deep loathing and absolute fear, an SS-Waffen and an officer at that must mean bad news to the poor ghetto he was infiltrating, the sense of animosity and tension could be cut with a knife, Stephan lit a cigarette and made his way to the company stationed right outside the ghetto. Upon arriving Stephan put on his "I am working" mask. Greeting the SS and the Waffen SS division with a Nazi salute and "Sieg Heil!" He awaited the arrival of everyone else.

Translate: Fuck, calling me so fucking early in the fucking morning

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

Fixing the cufflinks securely onto the end of the sleeves to the immaculate black-Schutzstaffel uniform with a firm twist, the SS-Sturmbannführer turned his body to face the longstanding mirror standing on a wooden plinth base with two fixed wheels and straightened his neck, toying with the Sturmbannführer ranked collar tab resting against his left collarbone briefly, before stroking his thumb gently against the embroidery of the thunderbolt SS collar tab resting against his right collarbone. Imperfection was a sin when wearing the uniform and with the duty of spearheading the Aryan race, the Fatherland forwards through the dark times of the war, he had to resemble a picture perfect reason why they fought for their just cause; especially since he’d be working publicly in Berlin today, the people needed a reason to stand tall and admire the working art of a superior German race, the Aryan race.

Straightening his leather belt about the waist and adjusting the rectangular silver buckle to sit proudly within the middle, not a inch less or more either side, he made one last fussing brush with the palms of his hands down the front of his jet-black uniform and smartened the knight’s-cross hanging vaguely below his adam’s apple. All set and ready, he turned with a fashionable manner and walked out of the freestanding and walk-in clothes room, adjourned with various uniforms, hats, shirts and trousers embellishing either side of the small room and exited into the grand master bedroom. The sun had been up for two hours already and the SS-Sturmbannführer was attuned to the lullaby chirping of birds fluttering wayward, just outside of his secluded manor estate.

The SS-Sturmbannführer descended the staircase swiftly and averted straight into the small entrance lobby. Unhooking his officer-peaked hat from the wooden coat-rack idly standing in the corner, he smoothed the tight elastic leather banding of the hat firmly down against the back of his skull and gingerly smoothed the rest of it over his waxed blonde hair. One last glance into a mirror affixed by the entrance in the lobby made sure not a strand of loose hair was out of place and with the given approval by himself, he reached for a large black leather trench coat hanging heavily hooked onto the wooden coat-rack and draped it to lay neatly over his forearm. Opening the main door, he jingled a set of keys from a ceramic bowl sitting on the side and eventually towed himself out of the household, locking the door in behind himself with a clever thud.

Descending a small concrete stepped walkway, the SS-Sturmbannführer approached SS-Rottenführer Gerwulf waiting patiently by a economical black metallic Mercedes-Benz W136 and opened the rear passenger door for the SS-Sturmbannführer to get in. “Guten Morgen Sturmbannführer” the Rottenführer said politely, but was soon met with the SS-Sturmbannführer pushing a folded black leather trench coat into his chest. “Nehmen Sie meinen Mantel, es ist dabei, später zu regnen” he said in passing, as he slipped into the back of the automobile and straightened himself up to get comfortable enough for the journey. SS-Rottenführer Gerwulf simply gave a puzzled look whilst holding the heavy leather trench coat, looking to the bright sunny skies as if the SS-Sturmbannführer knew something he didn’t, or had simply gone mad? Without question nonetheless, he closed the rear passenger door and walked quickly around to the driver’s side and getting in. Laying the trench coat beside himself, he started the engine and fiddled with the rear-view mirror to look at the SS-Sturmbannführer as he spoke. “Wo auch Herr SS-Sturmbannführer?” he said, asking for a general direction. SS-Sturmbannführer Wolfram responded with glazed eyes to the question, “Das Getto”.

The journey to the Ghetto didn’t take too long when riding in a Schutzstaffel marked vehicle and before the SS-Sturmbannführer knew where he was, they had arrived adjacent to the guarded main entrance of the slums; a cordoned portion of Berlin that resided the impurity of Germany. SS-Rottenführer Gerwulf stepped out of the car and opened the rear door for SS-Sturmbannführer Wolfram to step out like royalty. Swinging his leg out of the vehicle, SS-Sturmbannführer Wolfram leveraged his body out soon after and clapped the heels of his feet onto the cobbled surface of the street. It was somewhat unusual for a SS-Sturmbannführer to be without an immediate entourage in such a wary and grim place, but everything was well, as a stationary of men loitered by the Ghetto’s entrance, the men assigned for the task and duty to be fulfilled today.

Straightening his uniform out having exited the vehicle, he beckoned for SS-Rottenführer Gerwulf to follow him as the two men crossed the quiet street and approached the Ghetto’s fortified main-entrance. “Heil Hitler!” one of the guards spouted and saluted, a majority of the other soldiers following suit. “Heil” the SS-Sturmbannführer saluted back with a more casual tone, looking over the faces of the men before himself, as if he were looking for the next in command, a senior officer amongst the group? Eventually spotting a SS-Untersturmführer within the group, he motioned for the officer to come forth with the coil of his pale finger. “SS-Untersturmführer, kommen Sie hier ein Moment bitte” he said with a figurative, yet calm tone to his voice, as he stepped away from the main group, hoping to have a quiet word with the fellow officer, away from prying ears.

Looking to the SS-Untersturmführer, he cascaded his eyes over the man’s finely tucked uniform out of habit before speaking. “Ist jeder, SS-Untersturmführer anwesend?” he questioned, hoping they weren’t relying on the arrival of anyone else before they could get started with the day’s events, hoping for a cheerful answer from the officer.

OOC: Sorry if I made it seem as though I god-modded you walking away from the group, there’s not an awful lot I can do without making small presumptions to the situation, in order to keep it moving.


Translations:[/b]

Guten Morgen SS-Sturmbannführer
- Good morning Sturmbannführer

Nehmen Sie meinen Mantel, es ist dabei, später zu regnen
- Take my coat, it’s going to rain later

Wo auch Herr SS-Sturmbannführer?
- Where too Herr SS-Sturmbannführer?

Das Getto
- The Ghetto

SS-Untersturmführer, kommen Sie hier ein Moment bitte
- SS-Untersturmführer, come here a moment please

Ist jeder, SS-Untersturmführer anwesend?
- Is everyone present, SS-Untersturmführer?

[Heinrich Landa]

With the wedding ended, a week of leave gone it was back to the old grindstone. The barracks felt weird was Landa entered them this morning, no one was really there to greet him except his own bed, sitting there perfectly still and the blankets perfectly folded like the way he left it. There was no song birds echoing around the base this morning, the sounds of mother nature chillingly silent this morning. What the hell was going on? Landa dropped his bag onto his bed, unpacking his dress uniform, putting that in his shared closet and putting away a few personal belongings. He stopped for a moment as he pulled out a picture, a picture of the Landa kids together around Ava, the blushing bride. Thank god Hugo wasn’t in it or Land would’ve just ripped that part of the picture off. Putting it on the small dinky nightstand, he shoved the duffel bag under the bed, but then his ears heard some commotion outside, better walk out and see what it’s about.

His hand pressed against the wooden barrack door, pushing it open and then stepping outside and to the side, letting the door close behind him. A group of his fellow soldiers were out in the yard, an Untersturmführer was standing in front of them, Landa joined the group.

“Eine kleine Gruppe von Ihnen soll eine kleine Mission in den Gettos weitergehen,” the officer said then started calling out names. “Bekommen Sie Ihre Scheiße und bekommen Sie das Bewegen zu den Lastwagen!” It was instant that the few men, including Landa, ran to the barracks, grabbing their uniforms tossing those on and their guns. Landa grabbed his K98, along with his P38 and shoved that into his holster. Who knew what they would be doing in the Ghetto, but Heinrich was well happy enough to go and do anything to prove the Aryan race was well above those Jewish basterds that stalked our streets. Moving into the truck, the last man jumped on, closing the tail gate and the grinding of gears were heard. There was no officer in the truck, odd. Probably one on site. The truck jolted forward, probably a new driver as the boys got use to it and drove into town.

The abysmal place of a Ghetto stalked their dreams as they got closer, it felt like a ghost town though the zombies of it still stalked the streets. The sun preyed upon it, showing itself to the zombies though nothing died. Damn Jews. Filing out of the truck another officer was there, as planned out in Landa’s head. Hailing the new officer, then they all waited, god knows for what now. Landa slung his K98 over his shoulder, looking over to the other boys from his group to go along with this little mission this officer knew more about than they did.

A black car pulled up with flags galore on it, higher officer had to show up in parade eh? The man stepped out of the car, knowing full well what was going on for the day, dressed perfectly from hat to jackboots. It seemed like he thought he was meeting the Führer himself, but of course everyone knew that. The SS-Sturmbannführer started walking forward, with a Rottenfuhrer at his side, his puppy perhaps? Landa turned, being the first one to salute,”Heil Hitler!” The other followed suit. The Sturmbannführer saluted back with a casual heil then called out to the Untersturmführer. The Untersturmführer walked forth, of course they were going to get the prep talk. The other boys started talking between themselves, Land turning and listening, though he was more interested in what the officers were talking about. What the hell was going to come forth of this little mission today? Killing the whole Ghetto?

OOC: sorry it’ a little short. Didn’t know how to first post to this, though wanting to join in

TRANSLATIONS:
Eine kleine Gruppe von Ihnen soll eine kleine Mission in den Gettos weitergehen,
A small group of you are to go on a small mission in the Ghettos,

Bekommen Sie Ihre Scheiße und bekommen Sie das Bewegen zu den Lastwagen!
Get your shit and get moving to the trucks!

[Anton Maas]

The Gestapo Inspector had enough of waiting in the car and instead climbed out to have a look around. Instantly, after closing the door, he realized that it was a mistake. It was one of the poorer neighborhoods of Berlin, not as bad as the Ghetto he was already late for, but still not the place for a man with his posh upbringing. After being transferred to Berlin, he did not expect his first visit to the capital would take him to a place like this, it’s empty streets stretched like a trash ridden river by chipped buildings with stained stonework and windows so dirty they probably didn’t need blackout curtains. Naturally his Aryan eyes found the only pleasing thing to look at, the reflection of his uniform in the Mercedes’ side view mirrors. Although he could wear plainclothes now, he thought that today, with meeting a superior for an important assignment, wearing his old Allergiene uniform would prove that he was disciplined and devout enough to represent the Party as a member of the Gestapo.

For a few minutes, the Gestapo man amused himself by combing his hair, but even that got boring after awhile, and frustrated with being stood up, rushed into the crummy apartment building and to the second floor where his contact currently lived. The first thing he did was knock, but there was no answer. Fortunately, the apartment door was unlocked, allowing him to enter the small quarters. At first he thought the ugly apartment was ransacked, clothing littered the floor, wallpaper was peeled and a sofa was overturned, but then he realized they were just signs of a messy resident. Taking in his surroundings, the man noticed a trend, cheap furniture, a cheap radio, clothing made of cheap synthetic fabric, yet a suspiciously good quality cabinet in the corner. And then he noticed something else, one of the discarded garments, a brown woman’s overcoat, with the yellow Star of David sewn prominently into it. As the man in black stood there, still unsure how that coat on the floor made him feel, the only other door in the sitting room opened, and the presumed owner of the overcoat appeared, shrieked when she saw the stranger, and quickly returned to the other room. A moment later, a half dressed man appeared in her place, holding a few sheets of paper in one hand, and a bottle of aftershave in another. He sat the items down onto the locked cabinet, and without breaking the uniformed man’s gaze, yet not saying a word, went to pick up the clothes piled on the floor, starting with the woman’s overcoat. He then returned to the door and tossed most of the clothing in, leaving himself just a jacket, tie, and trousers. The rest of his suit.

The man in black didn’t know what to do, now that he was staring at the informant he was sent to get. He tried asking about the information he was suppose to have, but the other man, now wearing the gray suit, ignored him, as he slapped some aftershave over his stubble. He continued to ignore his uniformed guest until he unlocked the cabinet, revealing the bottles of alcohol within, and offered the man a glass of “breakfast”. The man in black refused, so instead of pouring another glass, he pulled a large attaché case from behind the liquor, and shut the cabinet. Finally, after placing his papers into the case, he told his uniformed escort that he was ready to go, and the two men left the apartment.

Now, after all the confusion and disappoint, the man in black was happy. Perhaps they were a little late, but the other man turned out to be a pretty good driver, speeding through streets and back avenues, until arriving at the entrance to the Ghetto, where a few trucks and a staff car already sat. The informant parked next to the other Mercedes, and sat in their car for a few more moments, to light a cigarette, before grabbing his satchel and emerging with the other man. They walked to a large group of SS soldiers loitering together.

”SS-Sturmbannführer!” Gustav Messer called out once they got close, ”Heil Hitler!” He gave the Major a light salute with a bend of the elbow, before removing the cigarette from his lips and introducing himself “Ich bin Kriminalinspektor Messer, und dies ist Kriminalinspektor Löwe. ” Gustav pulled out his Gestapo ID disc from under his gray suit, returned the cigarette to his mouth, and then opened his satchel, to hand the Major the papers. ”Ich weiß, dass Sie Ihre eigenen Gründe haben, hier zu sein. Aber in einem… Untersuchung heute Morgen, ich bin Informationen Sie gegeben worden und Ihre Männer dürften sich für ”


Translation

“Ich bin Kapitän Messer, und dies ist Kapitän Löwe.”
I am Kriminalinspektor Messer, and this is Kriminalinspektor Lowe.

”Ich weiß, dass Sie Ihre eigenen Gründe haben, hier zu sein. Aber in einem… Untersuchung heute Morgen, ich bin Informationen Sie gegeben worden und Ihre Männer dürften sich für ”
I know you have your own reasons to be here. But in a… interrogation this morning, I have been given information you and your men might be interested in.

OOC: This information can be whatever you want, Raf. I was going to make it names and descriptions of men planning an uprising inside the Ghetto, but I don’t want to railroad you guys into following my lead.

[Rudolf Steiner]

OOC: No, no it's completely understandable the the post needed to go on.

IC: Upon arriving he was greeted with the Waffen SS and the SS standing about the truck giving the SS-Untersturmführer the Nazi salute and a combined shout of "Heil Hitler!" Stephan then instantly got to work ordering people around "Überprüfen Sie Ihre Ausrüstung! Lassen Sie mich hören den Appell Soldaten!" Stephan watched with his icy cold gray eyes as the Waffen SS soldier donned in their gray uniform rushed about checking each other's backpack, the driver moving to the front of the truck checking the engine and then the equipment in the back of the truck. All the meanwhile Stephan oversaw the whole affair, whilst his eyes would travel to the ghetto beyond where they were going to be conducting their raid in a matter of half an hour or so. From beyond the steel, wrought iron fence and the barbed wire Stephan could see that the Jewish inhabitants upon sighting the gathering of both the SS and the Waffen-SS, a sure sign of big trouble the Jews quickly rushed into their dwellings, perhaps saying their last prayers or trying to hide their children. Once the roll call and the equipment checking was over Stephan then walked around the trucks making sure everything was in order. This was Stephan’s very first round up assignment as the SS-Untersturmführer, only a few years ago he was one of the men in the back of that truck. Such fond memories he had of his first round up. It was actually then that he had earned himself the nickname “Die Berliner Metzger”

The whole idea of the Jews fleeing like filthy rats caused Stephan’s lips to curl upwards in a sickening smile, a rare moment only seen when Stephan feels rather lustious for bloodshed and violence. Stephan was now just in time, finishing the roll call and the equipment check before the arrival of his morning caller, SS-Sturmbannführer Wolfram. With that the Untersturmführer lit a cigarette and returned the lighter and pack of cigarettes to his chest pocket of his uniform. This was the very first time Stephan had any form of dealings with his superior SS-Sturmbannführer Wolfram and he needed to make a good first impression in order that his name becomes synonymous with good work and who knows it might lead him to a promotion. He had already formed a reputation for himself as a strict, young officer who is utterly loyal to the Third Reich and a firm believer of it's policies. His last assignment in France was successful as he maintained good order during his tenure there. He was going to add another outstanding effort into his assignment today, he was never going to allow anyone or anything to tarnish his reputation, truly a man hungry for power, however for all the right reasons.

Soon enough a black Mercedes-Benz marked with the SS insignia pulled up. A man hurriedly exited the vehicle and reached one of the back doors opening it. At first only a single boot emerged from the car then the whole body appeared and it was indeed, SS-Sturmbannführer Wolfram in the flesh, his hungry eyes followed him more specifically the SS-Sturmbannführer insignia. He returned the salute along with his platoon with a firm, "Sieg Heil!" Stephan lit another cigarette and walked over to him after being beckoned to by the SS-Sturmbannführer following him to a more private area away from both platoons and vehicles. Stephan nodded curtly and replied "Ja, Herr SS​​-Sturmbannführer. Appell und Ausrüstung zu überprüfen sind fertig und wir warten nun auf Ihre Bestellungen. Die Erlaubnis zur Nachbesprechung erhalten" However before he could receive his debriefing the pair were interrupted by the arrival of two figures also coming out of a car that parked right next to the Mercedes. The two approaching were Gestapo officers. Such a combined force only meant one thing, concentration camp and extermination, use of full force, he wished. Stephan returned the salute with a disgruntled "Heil Hitler." He listened intently to the man, after he had finished he looked to the SS-Sturmbannführer waiting for his response on this matter.

Stephan's eyes lurked for a minute to his platoon who were joking and laughing and getting to know the other platoon assigned with them passing around cigarettes and playfully jabbing at one another. They needed to laugh now as the mission was going to be quite grueling, not that his platoon was not prepared for such a thing. His eyes then went over to the ghetto where there were no longer a single soul in sight. Stephan's mind then wandered what the SS-Sturmbannführer wanted to talk to him about that required him to step away from his platoon? As if it were just the debriefing he might as well say it to both platoons and get it over with instead of having Stephan repeat it to them.

Check your equipment! Let me hear the roll call soldiers!

Yes, sir. Roll call and equipment check are done and we now await your orders. Permission to receive debriefing.