Stuck in the Middle with You

January 30th 1933

January 30th 1933

Berlin, Weimar Republic

Lmfao you thought I was gonna upload 23 words and that's it for the night? Well here's only 600 more. Hopefully when I get back to fully writing these two stories shit can be way longer.

Artemis held her mother's hand when they crossed the street. At Hera's behest, she held her brother's too in case he became lost in the crowds. Something was happening today, even an 8 year old Artemis could tell. The big city of Stalingrad was never this full. There was no market, so what reason could there be for such a crowd.

She tripped slightly on the curb, making an 'oomph' sound and almost dragging Apollo down with her. Hera cringed as Artemis managed to catch herself before face planting on the pavement. "Careful, Arty. Come, quickly." She urged, wanting to move as quickly as possible to avoid the crowd.

Seeing that the street was indeed swarmed, Hera looked around. She saw a newspaper vendor standing with his elbow on the stand, a long grey moustache twitching as he watched the crowd. Hera walked over to him and began speaking in German. "Verzeihung? Was passiert hier?" She asked what was happening.

The man chuckled and handed her a paper, probably not to keep. Artemis saw the headline wasn't in Russian, none of the signs in this city were. As such, she couldn't read it. "Wo bist du gewesen? Präsident Hindenburg hat einen neuen Kanzler ernannt. Er ist nicht der netteste Kerl, aber ich würde ihn jederzeit über einen Bolschewisten hinwegnehmen." He remarked to Hera in German, telling her that there was a new change in leadership for Germany today. There was going to be a new chancellor.

Still confused as they understood nothing the man said, Artemis and Apollo watched Hera read the paper with baby Hebe in her arms, a look of worry and slight horror on her face. Suddenly the twins were distracted from their bystandering by the sound of distant singing.

It wasn't like an opera singing, more like when their father and his friends went out for the night and sang. The singing was soon accompanied by loud footsteps as everyone in the crowd suddenly cleared the street, pushing beside or behind Artemis and Apollo, who had now lost their mother's hand though were still clutching each other's.

As they came around the corner Artemis could see the men singing. They were marching, just like the Red soldiers did back home at parades. These weren't the Red Army though. Half of them wore brown shirts, not military clothes. The other half were in black coats, which intimidated Artemis. They didn't look very friendly. All had bright red sleeves on one arm, and all held lit torches as they marched and sang.

"Kam'raden, die Rotfront und Reaktion erschooooossen, Marschier'n im Geist in unser'n Reihen miiiiiiiit-" They sang as they marched, the bright red flags some carried matched the bands on their arms. The group was led by six drummers who played a marching beat. As she couldn't speak German, Artemis didn't know what they were saying.

As Hera rejoined them and grabbed Artemis' hand she looked up at her parent. "Mama, what are they saying?" She asked in her native Russian. Hera quickly shushed her, frightening Artemis slightly. Hera didn't want the Brownshirts to hear her daughter's dialect.

They stood in silence with a clapping and cheering crowd as the young militia marched past, and Artemis watched them go wondering what they were marching for. Was there a party?

Well, kinda. Just not the type she'd have thought.