A Wolf's Return

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Country: Nazi Germany
Current Time: 11:30
Weather Conditions: Cold, but bright. A freezing breeze blows through the air.

Even in ruins, Berlin was still an elegant city. People made an effort to clear the streets of rubble and debris, and life continued as normal in the German capital. It was a cold, but bright day, with some wind blowing through the open streets. However, Strumfelder was happier tucked up inside his Mercedes, with the warm heater blasting out hot air. Next to him was his Sergeant, acting as a chauffer, taking him around. The man had never had a test for his licence, and it showed. He drove too fasted, and punished the brakes as he tore around corners, nearly taking to two wheels in places.

But Strumfelder was in a good mood this day, and little could crush his sense of optimism. His CO had returned from his leave, and would hopefully be a changed man. When Strumfelder had last met Wolfram, he was often drunk, and felt haunted by his son’s death. Considering he was a powerful and respected Nazi, it did not do for him to be a wreck. It had actually surprised Strumfelder how low he’d gone, and he had felt true pity for the man. But life continued, and Strumfelder had enjoyed a little free reign, trying a few things he may not have if Wolfram had been around.

He glanced down at his watch. 11:30. He was to meet Wolfram in about ten minutes. They were to dine at Fischers Fritz, a high class restaurant in the Regent Hotel. Strumfelder enjoyed his sea food, and this place specialized in the fruits of the sea, although it did do other food, just as well. Strumfelder was looking forward to tucking into a large crab of langoustine. The prices were however scary, but the SS would happily foot the enormous bill. The SS were useful in just so many ways.

The car bounced along some very uneven roads, amplified by Jonsen’s speed. But soon they turned onto a long and open street, with people buzzing up and down quickly, trying to make the must of their lunch breaks. To most, the war could not even be taking place, their lives were almost untouched accept for the bombings and rationing. At least that was one thing which didn’t effect SS men.

What did he have to discuss with Wolfram? The Vlakte incident would certainly require some spin, but he supposed the fact that he had captured a man, and then when he had escaped, proceeded to recapture him was worth some praise. He wouldn’t mention Kriegheld just yet. That could wait. It was best to focus on positive, and let Wolfram learn of less pleasant topics when and where it was best.

The car pulled up outside the large and imposing hotel building, and Strumfelder stepped out on to the pavement. He kept his black and silver walking cane with him, placing his leather gloved hand over the silver tip. It was a solid silver ball, roughly four centimetres in diameter, and with a swastika surrounded by oak leaves imposed on the top. He walked into the lobby of the luxury building, a doorman helping him along the way. Strumfelder tried to hide his limp slightly, but it was hard. The lobby area was full of activity, people buzzing around in tailored suits or hotel uniforms. Now just to find Wolfram…

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

Coming straight from the SS-Headquarters in Berlin, Sturmbannführer Wolfram didn’t have the fine luxury of boasting about the town in his brand new BMW 328 Roadster, bought just recently from his secluded stay up in the Swedish Alps; Bit of a cheering up gift bought upon his own behalf, if it was one thing many people didn’t know about the dear Sturmbannführer, was his enthusiastic thrall for sports-cars and German engineering. Alongside his loyal duties within the Schutzstaffel of course, he endeared the luxury of being able to indulge himself in such pricey tastes. Unsurprisingly, the BMW Roadster was merely one of many dust-sheet covered vehicles he kept secretly stored within his prime manor house in Sweden, the rarity of them being brought to Berlin was few and far between.

Awkwardly, Sturmbannführer Wolfram slowly came back down to reality with the progressing war ongoing, the rattling tin-can of the Kubelwagen he was sitting in adjourned the daunting feeling of being unsafe once again. Every nook and cranny the slackened suspension ran over in the road, had the Sturmbannführer clutching against the harden frame of his seat, whilst attempting to try and multitask smoking one of his cigarettes without dusting himself down with speckles of ash in the process. His fingers nimbly squeezing against the filter to his cigarette, whilst his lips made quick work in withdrawing the nicotine from the tobacco; Before making a quick flick out of the open gap in the window, to dispense the forming ash quickly.

Overall, his journey wasn’t too unpleasant and the chauffer assigned to drive him to his destination was quite the foot and hand at negotiating the many one-way systems around Berlin. Diversions here, diversions there, the bombings around Berlin certainly hadn’t changed since his brief departure and many familiar roads he recognised as being closed a few months back were still closed due to the rebuilding work undergoing within the area. Passing one of the fine cathedrals on their way to the Fischers Fritz restaurant and hotel, the Sturmbannführer couldn’t help but notice a whole collaboration of stone masons working across the entrance and outer perimeter of the elegant building. Stiffing a sigh to himself, he found it to be a blessing that such a building hadn’t been touched until now, by the on-going war.

A further few more minutes in travelling down the road and the Fischers Fritz hotel came into sight from amongst the crippled and well stature buildings surrounding it. Peering out from beneath the tinted shades he was wearing, Sturmbannführer Wolfram took one last drag on his cigarette and disposed of the dwindling cigarette butt sharply, flicking it out of the window whilst he observed the hotel’s activity and continuous moving traffic of incoming “drop-offs” outside of the entrance. Eventually, the line died down swiftly and the Sturmbannführer gave himself the once over, making sure he had everything he needed. “Gehen Sie zu weit nicht, ich kann nach Ihnen schicken, wenn ich hier getan werde” the Sturmbannführer requested, shuffling a hand into his pocket to toss a few reichmarks onto the dashboard, feeling quite courteous enough to treat the driver.

Climbing out of the vehicle soon after, Sturmbannführer Wolfram slammed the door behind himself and tightly drove together the two ends of his leather coat against his chest, before briskly moving up to the sidewalk to approach the entrance. A few wandering looks lisped his way, most likely questioning as to why he was not accompanied with an advisor or escort, but the Sturmbannführer climbed the steps with a firm stride and barely acknowledged the doorman who opened the door for him. Stepping inwards into the busy lobby, Sturmbannführer Wolfram reframed from removing his tinted shades and made his way calmly to the front desk, wondering whether he was early or perhaps late? “Ich habe eine Tabellenbedenken für ein Sturmbannführer Wolfram und Unterärtzlichführer Strumfelder - ist er noch angekommen?” the officer questioned bluntly, but the young man could barely comply, as he juggled talking on the phone and writing something in the logbook all at once, merely sticking his finger up to the Sturmbannführer to wait one moment.

Just by chance, Sturmbannführer Wolfram took a look around himself and noticed a familiar body entering the building. Grinning to himself, the Sturmbannführer turned away from the front desk and slowly approached the male who seemed to be looking about himself - perhaps looking for him. “Erhard Strumfelder, es ist ist mein alter Freund zu lang gewesen” the Sturmbannführer stated in a calm tone, slowly removing his shaded spectacles whilst he spoke, slipping one of the folded arms down into one of his chest pockets to hang, before extending his hand to shake the man’s own, his piercing blue eyes laying completely upon the officer before himself. His persona overall was completely different to their last meeting…


Translations:[/b]

Gehen Sie zu weit nicht, ich kann nach Ihnen schicken, wenn ich hier getan werde.
~ Don't go too far, I may send for you when I am done here.

Ich habe eine Tabellenbedenken für ein Sturmbannführer Wolfram und Unterärtzlichführer Strumfelder - ist er noch angekommen?
~ I have a table reservation for one Sturmbannführer Wolfram and Unterärtzlichführer Strumfelder - has he arrived yet?

Erhard Strumfelder, es ist ist mein alter Freund zu lang gewesen.
~ Erhard Strumfelder, it is has been too long my old friend.

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Strumfelder broke into a grin as Wolfram approached. Christ, the man had changed considerably. He seemed more confident than he had been before, but also more relaxed. When he had first met Wolfram, the man seemed slightly nervous and shy, and although he was capable of being confident, it was clearly forced. Then after the Wolfrick affair, he seemed to suddenly become angry and reckless, something Strumfelder had suffer himself. The difference between the two was that Wolfram had taken considerably longer to overcome it. Or maybe Strumfelder had never overcome it…

“Jenes, das es hat. Sie schauen gut an, muss ich sagen.” He smiled and raised his cane. “Kommen Sie, lassen Sie uns, schmausen und feiern Sie Ihre Rückkehr zu Dienen des Reich!” They pair moved towards the resturant, but Strumfelder was put off by the long queue barring their way. The resturant looked rather full, with waiters rushing around up and down with steaming plates. They could wait here half the afternoon with no sight of a table. Strumfelder sighed and moved around the side of the line, to the front where a waiter was trying desperatly to keep the crowd calm, and not turn away business. At the head were a smartly dressed couple who looked very high class. Strumfelder pushed in front of them, and recieved a look of out rage from the husband.

“Ich möchte eine Tabelle für zwei bitte, schnell.” The waiter looked up as if he was talking to an imbecile, but was slightly taken aback by the appearance of the SS man. “Ich bin trauriger geehrter Herr, aber wir sind voll und wenn Sie nicht sich zum notcie interessiert hatten, es eine Warteschlange gibt.” Strumfelder’s one eye narrowed at the smart arse comment. He would not be spoken to like that. He raised his cane, and in one swift moment lashed out, smashing the silver ball into the side of the waiter’s skull. He crumpled, and lay still. There were a few gasps from behind. “Was haben Sie getan!? The women behind said, amazed. Strumfelder turned and addressed the husband. “Ich schlage vor, dass Sie Ihre Kuh schließen, es sei denn Sie einen Zug der SS-Männer wünschen, die sie genießen, während Sie eine Gewehrkugel in Ihrem Kopf haben.”

Another waiter came rushing over, as several diners looked in on the action. The waiter glanced down at his colleague and anger crept across his face. However, Strumfelder’s fearsome sight was enough for him to think better of turning the SS men away. “Herren dieser Weise.” He grabbed two menus and took them over to a table by a window, providing them a nice view of the street. Two men were quickly clearing the table of half finished food, while another waiter was forking out money to the previous occupants.

The SS men sat down and were presented with their menus. “Danke Sie” Strumfelder smiled at the outraged waiter. He turned to Wolfram. “So was stellen Sie sich vor?”

Transaltions:
“Jenes, das es hat. Sie schauen gut an, muss ich sagen.”
~ That it has. You are looking good.

“ Kommen Sie, lassen Sie uns, schmausen und feiern Sie Ihre Rückkehr zu Dienen des Reich!”
~ Come, let us feast, and celebrate your return to serving the Reich!

“Ich möchte eine Tabelle für zwei bitte, schnell.”
~ I would like a table for two please, quickly.

“Ich bin trauriger geehrter Herr, aber wir sind voll und wenn Sie nicht sich zum notcie interessiert hatten, es eine Warteschlange gibt.”
~ I am sorry sir, but we are full and if you had not cared to notice, there is a queue.

“Was haben Sie getan!?
~ What have you done!?

“Ich schlage vor, dass Sie Ihre Kuh schließen, es sei denn Sie einen Zug der SS-Männer wünschen, die sie genießen, während Sie eine Gewehrkugel in Ihrem Kopf haben.”
~ I suggest you shut your cow up, unless you want a platoon of SS men enjoying her, while you have a bullet in your head.

“Herren dieser Weise.”
~ This way sirs.

“So was stellen Sie sich vor?”
~ So, what do you fancy?

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

After shaking the fellow officer’s hand, Sturmbannführer Wolfram inquisitively watched the gentleman before himself. What had he missed? It had only been a few months, couple even and of course, the events the pair of them went through back in Munich would be enough to change any living soul’s way of life. Although, Strumfelder had a different demeanour about himself and the small time Sturmbannführer Wolfram had spent in the office lately, he’d read enough filed reports to see where events have gone during his absence; Particularly the disappearance of Doctor Vlakte and the connection of Strumfelder being the fray during the allotted time period the events had occurred.

That wasn’t the only logistic report he was concerned over during his absence, but the fundamental wellbeing of his beloved division - the “Das Reich”. In all fairness, Sturmbannführer Wolfram had a lot to catch up on and arising any worrying factors over their lunch wasn’t on his agenda for today. No, he was here to meet an old friend who attempted to save his son and paid the price of disfigurement from the Slavic rebels that very day. Losing a son was hard, but that chapter had finally ended and with it, a new prosperous outlook on life had arose within it’s place. Along with some adequate changes to his physic, that ironically made him look much younger and cleaner?

Breaking a smile once the fellow officer had complimented him and adjourned their brief meeting to go and eat in celebration. Sturmbannführer Wolfram stepped aside and couldn’t agree more, merely tailing the officer that strode towards the expanding line throughout the lobby. At first glance, it seemed like a blur of well dressed people, but as they grew closer, the waiters’ buzzing about and menu stand towards the entrance came into view. Merely following the officer that strode up alongside the line, not exactly wanting to line up himself, Sturmbannführer Wolfram noticed the aggravated looks phased from the crowded line and then the ignorance displayed from the supposed floor-manger? The man seemed to be pulling the ropes and knowing the ins and outs, but then Strumfelder displayed an act of brutality he’d never seen the man commit before.

Almost wanting to wince in pain for the waiter/floor manager that stumbled from off his feet, the Sturmbannführer cocked a small chirp of a laugh, finding it rather amusing that the fire within the officer’s belly was far from distinguished. Then the attention turned to the line of people, as one of the woman squealed out in fright, but was soon met with the aggressive stance and tongue from the officer accompanying him. Grinning deviously the whole while, Sturmbannführer Wolfram watched the whole scene unfold almost felt powerless for a brief moment. They were feared beyond recognition and the Sturmbannführer felt for once, in such a long time, he had both his senses and feelings back. No numbness, no caring, just no-more bounds that made him think twice about what he done or how he felt about the situation. In actual fact, he could have applauded the officer for displaying such a true menace of power, the substance that made Germany so grand and feared. Superior.

Slithering his eyes from off the crowd, Sturmbannführer Wolfram followed Strumfelder and the waiter quietly, not really wanting to waste his own breath when such a fiery associate done it for him. Stepping over the limp waiter across the entrance, the Sturmbannführer kicked the man in the stomach, before grinding the hind of his jackboot into the man’s ribcage shortly after. He wasn’t about to allow such ignorance to be displayed to a member of his own cloth, not just that, but a friend. Strangely, the Sturmbannführer felt quite protective of Strumfelder and was more than appeased when the waiter finally showed them to a table immediately…

Seating himself, Sturmbannführer Wolfram took off his officer’s hat and laid it before him upon the table. His peroxide blonde hair a bleach white, combed back with what seemed to be a smudge of grease to hold it in place. Slowly unfolding the menu laid before him, Sturmbannführer Wolfram let out a small breath and glanced to Strumfelder. “Ich denke, dass ich den "lotte" haben werde, Mönch-Fisch diente einer alten geformten Senf-Soße und und einem Linse-Fischteich - Mm.” he read out from the menu, pulling a curious look afterwards, as his taste buds teased him on how it would taste. Quite obviously, the Sturmbannführer had somewhat of a curious nature now. Whereas the caring and thoughtfulness had him harnessed as to trying or doing new things. “Und sich selbst?” he questioned afterward, folding the menu up to place downwards, glancing over the beverages on the back of the menu.

Whilst he listened or awaited for a response, Sturmbannführer Wolfram licked his lips and appointed another question in regards to what they would drink. “Bilden Sie sich ein Glas der mit ''mir weißen Weinlese ein?” he questioned once again, looking to Strumfelder for an answer again, beginning to wonder where their conversation would drift off too once they’d surpassed the ordering and making their mind up stage for their lunch.


Translations:[/b]

Ich denke, dass ich den "lotte" haben werde, Mönch-Fisch diente einer alten geformten Senf-Soße und und einem Linse-Fischteich - Mm.
~ I think I'll have the "lotte", monk fish served an old fashioned mustard sauce and and a lentil stew -- Mm.

Und sich selbst?
~ And yourself?

Bilden Sie sich ein Glas der mit ''mir weißen Weinlese ein?
~ Fancy a glass of vintage white with me?