Good Soldier at Heart.

[∬: Gero A. Fritz]

OOC: Feel free to try and enter or bail me out.

“Kielwasser auf, Wacht Auf! “[/b] firmly spoke aloud a Unterfeldwebel marching down the long narrow corridor of prison cells, with a cane perched up beneath his left armpit as he walked along, acting as though he were made of honourable stuff, when the man merely held a respected NCO rank - not even anything senior. He must’ve been in his late forties and grey hairs had already succumb to most of his facial hair, the hair upon his head however couldn’t really be seen, as he wore a flat-cap Officer’s hat that was tightly screwed down against his ‘fat’ head. So no one took much notice of the Unterfeldwebel in all fairness, as most of the patrons on the holding cells grumbled out loud a little incoherently and muffled from beneath their bed blankets. No, no one was bothered in the slightest.

However, Obergefreiter Gero Fritz slumped against the cold steel bars with his arms draping out from between the gaps. His head resting against the cold steel quietly, as he awaited the sound of the clicking boots grow louder, before he slowly raised his unshaven, tired and rough looking face to stare at the NCO prowling the wing. “Bin ich frei, noch zu gehen, Unterfeldwebel?” he questioned glumly, staring at the fat headed man as he stopped in his tracks and seemed to amusingly laugh within his throat, taking half a step into Gero’s direction, trying to keep a good distance between the bars however.

“Herr Fritz, Sie sind hier jedes Wochenende fast. Was ist es diesmal? Spielen wieder? Gebetrunkt und unordentlich wie letztes Mal? Oder ist es etwas neu -- intrigiert mich Obergefreiter, würde ich der Lachen ermutigen” the Unterfeldwebel said with such a cunning insight to provoke, his lips gleaming with a big fat grin as he laughed a little more to himself, clacking his cane against the steel bar to spurt out “Ich muss diese Zelle nachdem Sie Obergefreiter nennen!” he said adding insult to injury, laughing all the more, causing Gero to clench his fists and mentally calm himself. He was actually in the cell after being found urinating on a Oberleutnant’s Bilek Horch Kfz15 out of the barracks, whilst drunk and intoxicated. So much for his leave. Luckily for Gero, these were small petty offences and dear old Hitler would pardon himself and all the other scrawny buggers on the wing, due to a lack of manpower in the armies of his. So the worst he’d get, was a slap on the wrist. Right?


Translations:[/b]

Kielwasser auf, Wacht Auf!
~ Wake up, Wake up!

Bin ich frei, noch zu gehen, Unterfeldwebel?
~ Am I free to go yet, Unterfeldwebel?

Herr Fritz, Sie sind hier jedes Wochenende fast. Was ist es diesmal? Spielen wieder? Gebetrunkt und unordentlich wie letztes Mal? Oder ist es etwas neu -- intrigiert mich Obergefreiter, würde ich der Lachen ermutigen.
~ Mr Fritz, you are here every weekend almost. What is it this time? Gambling again? Drunk and disorderly like last time? Or is it something new -- do intrigue me Obergefreiter, I would encourage the laugh.

“Ich muss diese Zelle nachdem Sie Obergefreiter nennen!”
~ I will have to name this cell after you Obergefreiter!

[werwolf]

OOC: There’s a little God-Modding here, but I don’t think Gero minds.

The prison cells! They were the perfect picking ground, with all the possible candidates displayed in their own personal boxes. It was as simple as walking into a pet shop and choosing the rabbit little Jan wanted, for Dietrich Stahl. He smiled to himself as he walked through the early morning fog. It was set to be a lovely day, but he would enjoy it even more once he had under his command. He reached the concrete building that sat at the compounds far corner, and opened the large metal door. He was greeted by an administration office, and then behind that, a long row of cells, roughly half of them occupied.

Sitting behind the main desk was a rather bored and tired looking Wehrmacht Gefreiter. Stahl walked up to him, and placed down the small bag and file he was carrying onto the bare floor. He dived into his pocket and drew out twenty five Reichmark’s worth of notes, neatly bound together. He pushed them across the desk, placed a finger to his lips, then entered into the cell corridor, leaving a stunned private in his wake.

Stahl walked down the long row, looking at each man carefully. How was he dressed? In what state was his liver? Was he overweight? Was he even awake? Few fitted the bill, but he recognised each, from the long hours he’d stayed up, producing the files on each’s ‘Crimes against the state’. One was at his bars getting a bollocking from a small NCO. Stahl wasn’t the intruder type; he would much rather use a code of silence to achieve his means. But one’s aims couldn’t always be achieved quietly.

He walked up to the man, placed his bag down, and looked at his surroundings. He turned to the prisoner, winked, then set about his job. He spun around, and grabbed the Unterfeldwebel’s lapels. Stahl drew up his knee and pulled his victim forward, crushing his groin and its contents. The man collapsed to the ground. Stahl leaned down and whispered something into the man’s ear. A key was placed in his hand, and the lieutenant opened the cell door. He picked up his bag, stepped in, and locked it behind him.

He reached into his bag, and drew out a still warm loaf of bread and tossed it at the prisoner. Stahl then picked up his file, and lifted out a document with the man’s mug shot attached. He smiled. “Mr Frtiz, I have a proposal for you.”

[∬: Gero A. Fritz]

OOC: No that’s okay, you messed about with the NPC, fine by me, he wasn’t relevant to me and may I add, what a unorthodox entrance. Lol. It says you’re a resistance commander, so you in a uniform?


The Obergefreiter kept his head hung low against the bars, trying to avoid the provoking stare of the Unterfeldwebel who lingered real close, the rotten smell of garlic on his breath seemed to illume from his nostrils; Perhaps he enjoyed Jewish Cooking? Gero grimaced and tried to amuse himself at the thought, here stands a Unterfeldwebel with a Jewish wife and bastard children to Hitler’s new regime; Gero had nothing against the Jewish personally, but the thought of a stuck up man presumably living with what Hitler and the Nazi party would call filth amused him. He stunk of it anyway.

Out of no where, the apparent shuffling noise of feet and fabric caught the Obergefreiter’s attention, as his head slowly lifted to catch glimpse of a male tugging at the Unterfeldwebel’s lapels, before forcing his knee up into the man’s groin, sending the Unterfeldwebel onto the floor almost instantly. The Obergefreiter stepped back from the bars, worriedly as the male began to whisper and gain a key into the palm of his hands, Gero’s eyes widened a little as he continued to step back into the cell, watching as the heavy cell door was opened with a clunk, before being closed behind him. Gero began to roll his shoulders a little, wondering if the un-named man was an accomplice of the Oberleutnant, sent to rightfully sort out Gero for desecrating the paintwork of his auto-mobile, but things soon changed as the male reached into a heavy looking bag and sling something at him.

Catching the bread, Gero gave a firm stare, watching intently as he concluded with a proposal? File in hand. “Wer sind Sie?” he questioned a little strictly, merely holding the bread until he had confirmation of who he was. The Uniform didn’t look too familiar either, so Gero observed the male intently, rooted from his position in the cell, half taking a moment to look towards the Unterfeldwebel who began to get up, apparently in pain still. Luckily, hardly anyone on the row of holding cells noticed him getting the bollocking, otherwise they’d be a mass out roar of rebellious inmates right about now.


Translations:[/b]

Wer sind Sie?
~ Who are you?

[werwolf]

“Your saviour, or executioner. It just depends on which you desire me to be,” Stahl said slowly. He looked down at the file, and the great crime Mr Fritz had 'committed'. “It appears that thirty Allied prisoners saw their last moments at your hands. According to Wehrmacht protocol, you are to be tied to a post and shot.” Stahl smiled broadly, watching the man’s reaction. He loved the power that he had. “And, looking at your records, you seem to have the aspiration of destroying your liver, and your life.”

Stahl glanced down at himself, as his words sank in. He might be wearing an SS uniform, but it looked like he had been the one spending the past night in a cell. He jacket was unbuttoned, he wore no cap, his trousers were wrinkled and un-ironed, and he had civilian shoes, not his black boots. But this was him, he thought of himself as more of an armed civilian, than a soldier. Soldier implied a way of life, but Stahl had left that life long ago.

“But what is this?” he said, drawing a lighter from his trouser pocket. He opened it, and placed it at the bottom of the file. “What if I was to slip, and this file become nothing more than a smouldering pile of ash. Or, what if it finds itself to the Unterfeldwebel’s desk? He’s already been attacked in your defence, so I think it might be processed faster than usual. What would you do then, eh?”

Stahl changed his stance, and looked straight at the Obergefreiter, dropping the file and lighter to his side. “I am Dietrich Stahl, a Werwolf pack leader, and I want you to join me.”

[Nathan Whyte]

Moderation Post

[/b][/u]

Unterscharfuhrer Fritz[/u] 4 CP
Troop Commander Stahl[/u] 3 CP[/color]