Panzerfaust

Chapter 56 - Madama Butterfly

22th of June, 1947, Rome, Reichsprotektorate of Italy, Greater German Reich

notes: sorry for the long wait. 

The Teatro dell'Opera di Roma was made of solid stone, its stories upon stories stretching up into the moonlit sky. An enormous dome at the top was inset with an ancient roman scene of a gladiator on a chariot, glowing with cold light in the starry night.

Massive arches overtook the front, behind which windows sparkled like champagne in glittering crystals. A lush red carpet was rolled out, and women with spruced up hairstyles, dressed in glitzy cocktail dresses and ball gowns, exited fine German cars—most on the arms of their German partners in their finely cut dress uniforms.

Sophia Edelsheim was dressed in a pale green dress that hugged her curves effortlessly in its fine silk. It fit her nicely—it gave her breasts the lift they needed, but the neckline stopped just above them, teasingly concealing their roundness. 

And it was just long enough to conceal the handgun strapped to her thigh.

Max insisted she keeps one by herself - before spending a good amount of time to teach her how to operate it. Still, she could catch the worry in the Sturmbannführer's deep blue eyes when he sees her greeting guests on Schellenberg's arm on the red carpet of the Operahouse.

'I am really sorry Reichsführer Skorzeny could not attend.' Claudia Bianchi muses on her melodic voice, clinging into Max's arms once they got around to greet them. 

The Italian actress was of the group of entellectuals who helped them staging the upcoming coup, even agreeing to a sham relationship with Wünsche, to cover for both of their affairs - Sophie's with Max and hers with a fellow actress.

'Please do forward our group's appreciation to him, for letting us stage this wonderful evening. His Royal Highness asked me to deliver this for him.'

The box she hands over to Sophia is as intricate as the liquid stored in shiny glass in it - dark as blood.

'Its a hundred years old wine.' The Gestapo man on her side lets out a low whistle after reading the tag on the heavy bottle. 'Herr Skorzeny does have some dear friends in this city, it seems. This is a real treasure.'

'I am only the messenger, Signore. I cannot afford such treasure myself. I am but an actress, so if you excuse me, I need to head backstage.'

Pressing a quick peck into Wünsche's high cheekbone, the Italian woman leaves them on the marble steps.

'Let's find our seats, shall we, mia bella Signora Skorzeny.' Schellenberg proclaims. 'Are you coming with us, Sturmbannführer Wünsche? Since your date is now gone.'

'No, Brigadeführer. I will be watching the play with my men.'

'Of course. They need a strong leader with them after Reichsführer Skorzeny's injury.'

The suggestion was enough to make Sophie to hiss through her teeth - nobody ever dared to talk about Otto's injuries. Not even her, not even Wünsche - who took up the rest of the Kommander's duties in all but name.

For his credit, Max only salutes without moving a muscle on his face, striking his heels together before marching off.

'You're more beautiful than her.' Schellenberg whispers to her over the beginning accords of the play once they settled in the Reichsführer's velvet box.