Warning: Might contain offensive material. As the summary says, this story is about a true Nazi in New York City. Therefore, this story is full of Nazi rhetoric, including insults. This in no way reflects any of my personal beliefs. If you're offended by it, know that I don't believe a word of what the Nazi characters are saying. I literally almost got sick writing it. A lot of what I wrote about Germany was written from what I've read about their perception of life after World War I. Again, this in no way reflects what I personally believe about that period of history. A writer tries to channel his or her characters, and that's all I've done in this. I'm deeply sorry if it offends anyone.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the recognizable characters. I just borrow them for my own enjoyment.

Chapter 1

April 14, 1945
Berlin, Germany

"Verdammt," Johann Braun muttered as he stuffed more clothes into his tiny suitcase. The rumble of the Allied bombs grew closer and closer. They'd be there soon, right at his doorstep.

He knew what would happen if the Allies captured him. Die Fuhrer had warned them about that more than enough times. Those Jew-sympathizers would slaughter them like pigs. Them, the master race! No, he'd have to leave das Vaterland. Only in another land, one that understood die Fuhrer's ideals and philosophy, could he again do his work.

Braun was young, only twenty-two, but he'd been one of the most highly decorated young men in the party. Hitler had seen potential in him. Braun was fiercely loyal to the party and to Hitler personally. He'd risen up the ranks in the Hitler-Jugend and had been an enthusiastic participant in the kristallnacht demonstration in Kassel. At the age of sixteen, he'd become the leader of his corps. With his blonde hair and blue eyes, there was no question whatsoever to the purity of his ancestry.

When he was finally of age, he'd joined the Schutzstaffel. Oh, that was a proud day in his life. They were the best of the best in Germany – only the purest, most loyal party members could even hope to join their ranks. Braun could remember watching them march by his parents' home in Kassel when he was just a small boy, steps crisp and faces like stone. His father had leaned down to him, put his hand on his head, and whispered, "Someday, my son. Someday Germany will be strong again."

He'd never forgotten those words. For a time, he'd even lived to see them come true, though his father had not. A loyal follower of Hitler, his father had been killed in France by a spy for the Allies before the great invasion. But his father had taught his son how to be a good Aryan and a good German.

Germany under Hitler had been a utopia of sorts. They were finally a world power again, like the Empire of old, not that sniveling shell of a country after the Great War. Then, it was a country run by Jews, who cheated those that weren't like them and hoarded everything to themselves. They were the true cause of the economic depression. They were the cause of everything.

Then Hitler came, their savior, their messiah. He promised to bring Germany back into power, to the apex of the modern world. Under him, Germany prospered. They took back the land that was rightfully theirs under the old Empire, and then some.

Hitler's greatest triumph had been what they called die Endlösung – the Final Solution to Europe's problem of Jews. Braun had visited one of the many camps spread throughout the Reich shortly after he joined the SS. The Fuhrer had managed to find a way to solve the issue of the Jews. And, in Braun's mind, it was a damn good one. Studying their bodies for scientific research, discovering how certain diseases worked, how much pain people could stand, how long they could go without food and water – natural selection at its best.

But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. The Allies, the Jew-supporters, were stronger than Hitler had thought. That had been die Fuhrer's greatest mistake. He'd underestimated the resolve of the Western powers to stop him, though Braun couldn't figure out why the hell they'd want to stop him.

Braun had planned on staying in the mountains near Berchtesgaden, to carry out the Fuhrer's order to repel the invaders. But then he realized that he had a better chance of carrying on Hitler's plan alive. He could make a difference, by training a new group of young people in the ways of the Aryan race.

That was what he would do in the new country. He would carry on his dream of a pure race. He would carry on his father's dream of a great Germany, ruled by a pure race.

But to do that, he would first have to be rid of the Jew supporters. Make them see that the Jews would only bring them down. Unite all true Aryans under one banner. Create that pure race.

Another explosion rocked the house, and Braun cursed again. Slamming his suitcase shut with a bang, he grabbed the blank passport the Argentinean ambassador had given him days before. It would be enough to get him into Spain, and eventually across the ocean to South America. There, Braun could build a new life. And continue his work under a new identity.

Finally, he picked up the tiny velvet bag from the bedside table. The stones inside rattled together, creating an odd sort of harmony with the explosions from the Allied bombs. He couldn't remember the face of the Jew he'd taken them from. His visage blended in with the memories of all the other Jews he'd robbed. The stones would fetch him several million American dollars in Argentina. With that, he'd live like a king.

Oh, it would be a good life.

1947
Buenos Aires, Argentina

Johann Braun groaned and stretched his legs as his cargo ship drew nearer to the Argentinean shore. Their incredibly rich benefactor, General Juan Peron, had provided them with all the amenities necessary for high-ranking soldiers – good food, relatively soft beds, and housing when they landed.

Argentina would be nice, especially with the stones he kept safe in his breast pocket.

He wasn't the only party official on board the ship bound for Buenos Aires. There were twenty others just like him. They'd blended in with the refugees from Holland and Germany attempting to make their way across Europe to safety. Then, according to the plan set in motion by Peron, they boarded a ship in Spain to Buenos Aires. It had been a long and hard trip. Their quarters were cramped – unbecoming of officials of their rank. But, it was surviving in tiny living arrangements or dying at the hands of the Jew-sympathizers.

Besides, he had it on good word that Peron would provide them much better housing here than even in Germany.

He had great plans for when they finally landed. He'd have a big house, outside the city limits. He'd marry one of the women from Italy or Spain and have a son. A strong, strapping boy, with blonde hair like his. He'd teach the boy about das Vaterland, about the great Fuhrer, about how great the Third Reich could have been. But most of all, he'd teach the boy to be proud of his race, that the Aryan race was superior to all other. Especially the Jews.

March 18, 2006
Somewhere over New Jersey

Wilhelm Braun strained to see out the window of the 757 aircraft. The deep blue of the Atlantic shimmered below them. He sighed. It reminded him of home. The water of Buenos Aires was much prettier. Still, he held great expectations for this, his first trip to the United States.

The young man brushed a strand of dark hair out of his eyes and settled back into his seat. With his dark hair, he could easily pass for South American, but his blue eyes

He pulled a worn photo out of his wallet and sighed. His grandfather glared back at him from the picture, looking sharp in his SS uniform. He'd taught him all about the Fatherland. As a small boy, Wilhelm read Mein Kampf. Hell, he'd even memorized most of it. He'd read the Fuhrer's speeches and memorized most of them. Yes, William had been well-versed in the ways of hate.

His father once told him, "Germany was once a great land. Under the Fuhrer, no one would dare cross her. Someday, someday she will be great again. Once all the undesirables are wiped off the face of the earth."

Wilhelm never forgot those words. They were drilled into him from the time he was born, just as they had been drilled into his father. He'd heard stories of the glory days, seen pictures of the advances in science made under Josef Mengele. He could remember his grandfather's blue eyes shining as he recalled the first time he ever shook hands with the Fuhrer. His grandfather was a true patriot, and he'd trained his son and grandson to be the same.

His father's plan for getting into the United States was brilliant. Wilhelm had received a degree in foreign business management at the university in Buenos Aires several years prior to this visit, a degree which got him a professional immigrant visa to the United States. He even had an authentic letter of employment from a financial company in his carry-on bag. Everything was perfectly legal. They wouldn't even dream of the true reason he was immigrating to the United States.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our final descent into John F. Kennedy International Airport." The flight attendant's nasally voice startled him, and he quickly shoved the photo back into his pocket.

"The captain has turned the seatbelt sign on, so please make your way back to your seats. Make sure all your carry-on luggage is stowed properly, your tray tables are upright and locked, and your seats are in the upright and locked position."

Wilhelm grabbed his Argentinean passport and customs declaration off the tray table and locked it to the seat in front of him. Holding the documents close to his chest, he leaned back a little and sighed. The flight from Buenos Aires was too long for his tastes. Fortunately, if all went well here, he would never have to return again.

Silently he rehearsed his list of things to do when he landed. He would email his father once he got settled into an apartment and ask for money to be wired to the bank account he would set up. His father was incredibly wealthy, just like his grandfather. Erik Braun had never really told his son why he had so much money, but Wilhelm wasn't one to press the issue.

Within minutes, he felt the nose of the plane dip down, and he could hear the wheels lock into place. Wilhelm took another deep breath and gripped the sides of his seat. He really hated flying.

Finally the wheels screeched as they made contact with the tarmac. He felt a quick jerk as the plane connected with the runway and quickly braked. They coasted to the gate, and the "Fasten Seatbelt" sign blinked off. Wilhelm quickly stood, opened the overhead compartment, and pulled out his carry-on luggage.

Twenty minutes later, Wilhelm stepped up to the tall counter and smiled at the bored-looking immigration agent. "Hello," he said amiably, his voice holding a thick German accent.

"Passport and visa," the agent replied monotonously.

He handed over the documents and folded his arms across his chest. The agent glanced up at him once and flipped through the passport.

"Please place your right thumb on the scanner to your right."

Wilhelm complied, and the agent hit a couple of keys on his keyboard.

"Now look at the camera on the computer."

He looked up and smiled for the tiny camera perched on the computer monitor. The agent nodded when he finished taking the picture, and Wilhelm stepped back a little.

"Nature of your business?"

"I have a job waiting for me at a company on Wall Street."

"Which company?"

"Lionel, Ferrer and Marks."

The agent nodded and hit a couple of keys again. "Checks out." He pulled out a stamp and pressed it onto the passport and visa. "Welcome to the U.S., Mr. Adolphus."

Wilhelm Braun, also known as Joseph Adolphus, smiled and took back his documents. "Thank you."

With a smile on his face, he made his way past the security guards and through customs. As he walked with the throng of people to the baggage claim, he spotted an American flag hanging from the rafters.

The land of opportunity, he thought as his smile widened. And oh, the opportunities.

A/N: Just so you know, I did quite a bit of research going into this story about Nazis in Argentina, and I'll address a lot of that history later on in the story. I also thought you might need a little translation on some of the words. I tried to be as authentic as possible.

Hitler-Jugend: The Hitler Youth

Schutzstaffel: The Nazi SS, Hitler's elite troops.