Swirl

The Beginning. (Prologue)

April 28th 1945.

Gerhard Weber paced the length of the floor in his west wing bedroom of the Fuhrerbunker, a huge two story bunker situated below the Reich Chancellery. It wasn't the only bunker beneath the chancellery, but it was the bigger and the more lavish one. Most importantly, it was inaccessible. The bunker was currently being occupied by senior Nazi members and their entourages. Above ground, a gruesome and bloody war was in full swing. Every important man's head in the bunker was wanted on a silver plate.

Gerhard was not alone. With him were three mistresses he chose from the many women he's ever been with. When the panic announcement was made earlier this year, he opted to carry them as his entourage. Undoubtedly, these had been his favorites, and if he was going to die, there was no one else he'd rather allow to give him the privilege of pleasure before his end.

They sat submissively and scantily clad on the bed in silence as their eyes moved side to side following the movements of Gerhard, awaiting instruction. His beautiful male form enticing them as each and every single muscle in his arms moved deliciously when he ruffled his hair, scratched his beard or stretched his tout limbs.

Cigarette in hand, he took deep puffs as he continued his steps, remaining in his trance for many moments. A sudden knock on the door is what it took to finally tear him away from his revelry. It seemed like it had only been a few minutes to him but in reality, it had probably been well over an hour.

Due to the lack of sunlight in the belly of the bunker, it was difficult to tell the time of day.

All day, every day, it was night time to them.

"Gretchen, see who's there," he said as he jutted his head in the direction of the door and continued his walking, albeit at a slower pace. Gretchen nodded as she stood and made her way over to the corner of the room to grab a shawl that had been situated on a futon. She used it to cover her body and made her way over to the door to open it.

When she did, she was faced with an SS Trooper who held a copy of an internal memo that had been passed around the bunker. After exchanging customary greetings, she received the memo and thanked the trooper before closing the door and making her way back to Gerhard, who had stopped and now stood in the middle of the room eyeing her anxiously. Every day that passed under the bunker was a day closer to his eminent death. It was a thought he knew he shouldn't be stewing on, but he couldn't help it. If karma was coming back to bite him for his crimes against humanity , it wouldn't be a small bite.

It would be a bite worth a mouthful. He had done some bad things. Really bad things.

He wasn't to blame for everything though. He wasn't stupid.

Germany was going to lose. What he and his colleagues had been doing collectively on behalf of Germany was equivalent to hell on Earth.

He knew the allies wouldn't have mercy on them. Hell, they didn't deserve it.

The allies wouldn't have mercy on him, personally, either. He had been at the forefront of some very gruesome events. His face was plastered on countless Nazi propaganda. There was no mistaking who Gerhard Weber was.

He was a highly ranked Nazi official, but his journey to power was different from that of most, unique even. And for that, he was famous. The Nazi Boy Wonder.

Taken under the wing of Germany's dictator himself at such an early age, he represented the supposed superiority a Nazi youth must display. When he served in the Youth Movement, he had strength and agility far beyond that of every other male in the movement.

After his time in the movement, he joined the military and was famous for his aggressiveness and determination. He served until he was twenty-two, at which point, the head of the Nazis had noticed him and scouted him into politics where he had been groomed to be the perfect dictator.