Post by Otto Wolff on Aug 16, 2009 13:04:51 GMT
Place: Streets of Berlin, Germany
Time: 21.00
Weather: The cold air is standing still, there is no wind at all. Full moon is up tonight and it lights up the street somewhat, although clouds are slowly starting to gather up in the sky.
A small group of people had been driven on the street, the civilians now huddling to keep warm in the chilly evening air. Three black cars were standing nearby, two of them unmarked but one of the cars was marked as a police car with the white text, "Polizei" on the door. The civilians, a mixed lot of three men, two women and three children of various ages, were talking among themselves fearfully in hushed tones, worried of what might happen to them. They had been suddenly forced out of their homes at such a late hour and had been barely allowed to grab some warmer clothing with them as they had been hastily herded outside.
Kriminalkommissar Otto Wolff was standing next to one of the cars, his gaze casually fixed on the old building in front of him. He was a tall, dark-haired man in his fifties, with a rigid posture and constantly serious expression on his face. His hair had started recently thinning due to his age and in the scarce lighting his eyes seemed very dark and penetrating, as if one look from Otto could pierce a man through his very soul. Otto liked to look imposing and he did not really need to make a great effort to seem somewhat scary, either. If the appearance of a tall, broad-shouldered man with a grave expression was not enough to make people jump a bit, the fact that he worked in the Gestapo surely would.
Otto did not much enjoy disrupting the lives of normal civilians like this, but this was a thing which he had learned to accept over the time. The Reich still had enemies everywhere and weeding them out quickly and efficiently from the heart of Germany was an essential and important job. Not all enemies seemed as apparent as others and the ordinary German could just as well find oneself facing the questioning of the Gestapo. Otto was feeling strangely impatient and irate this particular night. They would have been out of here already if things had not gotten suddenly more complicated and he kept glancing at the watch every now and then.
Two men from Berlin's Schutzpolizei and two men from the Gestapo were inside the building, leaving only Otto and his underling, Kriminalsekretär Brenner outside. They were both wearing long, dark coats over their plain suits and both men looked quite like any other civilians around. The people outside of course already knew that these men were members of the Gestapo and the imposing black cars outside might have been a bit of a giveaway, also. Brenner, a younger blonde man in his thirties, was asking questions from one of the men that had been herded outside with others. He wrote down notes in a small notebook, nodding every now and then, asking one question after another, the man hurrying to answer each inquiry in a slightly wavering voice. Otto glanced at his watch once again and with a sigh, walked around the black Mercedes to go fetch the papers from the glove compartment.
A sudden crash broke the relative quiet of the street, making everyone outside freeze for a moment. Something was thrown through the window of the fourth floor of the tall building and the box-shaped item landed right on the roof of the police car with a loud bang, leaving quite a nasty dent on the black metallic surface. The group of people outside screamed and quickly shuffled away from the pieces of falling glass that glittered in the moonlight as they fell down on the street. Brenner had to work on calming the people down and the two women and the children looked scared enough to make a run for it any second now.
A high-pitched voice of a woman was heard from the window with the broken glass, the lady screaming and spouting out fast words. The voices seemed slightly muffled and any individual words were impossible to make out, although it was quite obvious that the woman inside the apartment was in great distress.
Time: 21.00
Weather: The cold air is standing still, there is no wind at all. Full moon is up tonight and it lights up the street somewhat, although clouds are slowly starting to gather up in the sky.
A small group of people had been driven on the street, the civilians now huddling to keep warm in the chilly evening air. Three black cars were standing nearby, two of them unmarked but one of the cars was marked as a police car with the white text, "Polizei" on the door. The civilians, a mixed lot of three men, two women and three children of various ages, were talking among themselves fearfully in hushed tones, worried of what might happen to them. They had been suddenly forced out of their homes at such a late hour and had been barely allowed to grab some warmer clothing with them as they had been hastily herded outside.
Kriminalkommissar Otto Wolff was standing next to one of the cars, his gaze casually fixed on the old building in front of him. He was a tall, dark-haired man in his fifties, with a rigid posture and constantly serious expression on his face. His hair had started recently thinning due to his age and in the scarce lighting his eyes seemed very dark and penetrating, as if one look from Otto could pierce a man through his very soul. Otto liked to look imposing and he did not really need to make a great effort to seem somewhat scary, either. If the appearance of a tall, broad-shouldered man with a grave expression was not enough to make people jump a bit, the fact that he worked in the Gestapo surely would.
Otto did not much enjoy disrupting the lives of normal civilians like this, but this was a thing which he had learned to accept over the time. The Reich still had enemies everywhere and weeding them out quickly and efficiently from the heart of Germany was an essential and important job. Not all enemies seemed as apparent as others and the ordinary German could just as well find oneself facing the questioning of the Gestapo. Otto was feeling strangely impatient and irate this particular night. They would have been out of here already if things had not gotten suddenly more complicated and he kept glancing at the watch every now and then.
Two men from Berlin's Schutzpolizei and two men from the Gestapo were inside the building, leaving only Otto and his underling, Kriminalsekretär Brenner outside. They were both wearing long, dark coats over their plain suits and both men looked quite like any other civilians around. The people outside of course already knew that these men were members of the Gestapo and the imposing black cars outside might have been a bit of a giveaway, also. Brenner, a younger blonde man in his thirties, was asking questions from one of the men that had been herded outside with others. He wrote down notes in a small notebook, nodding every now and then, asking one question after another, the man hurrying to answer each inquiry in a slightly wavering voice. Otto glanced at his watch once again and with a sigh, walked around the black Mercedes to go fetch the papers from the glove compartment.
A sudden crash broke the relative quiet of the street, making everyone outside freeze for a moment. Something was thrown through the window of the fourth floor of the tall building and the box-shaped item landed right on the roof of the police car with a loud bang, leaving quite a nasty dent on the black metallic surface. The group of people outside screamed and quickly shuffled away from the pieces of falling glass that glittered in the moonlight as they fell down on the street. Brenner had to work on calming the people down and the two women and the children looked scared enough to make a run for it any second now.
A high-pitched voice of a woman was heard from the window with the broken glass, the lady screaming and spouting out fast words. The voices seemed slightly muffled and any individual words were impossible to make out, although it was quite obvious that the woman inside the apartment was in great distress.