Berlin Wall – The End: Prologue

It had been six long years. Six long years of war, work, killing, rebuilding, winning and now, losing. It wasn't looking good for The Third Reich. Russia was invading from the east, the Allies closing in from the west and south. Italy was captured. Japan was being forced back by the other Asians. There was nowhere to go. No help to be found. They were doomed.

"Bruder! I have just received message from Berlin. They've been massively bombed. It's over. It's the end."

"Shut the fuck up West. We've got other things to worry about now, dammit!"

"But, Gilbert, I have to go back. The Führer needs me."

The albino turned to look at his brother. Ludwig's face was covered in dirt and blood. They'd been through so much together. They've been out in the field together many times. In fact, right now, they were trying to fight the Russians back in this horrid forest. With no success. They were closing in. Prussia flinched as something exploded nearby. They both had known that it was a matter of time before Berlin was surrounded. But neither of them had expected it to go that fast.

"I see," said Gilbert.

He looked solemnly at his brother. They were both worn out. They've been fighting for so long now. So very long … He'd almost forgotten why they had started all this. The rise of the Third Reich, with Adolf Hitler as their leder, their boss. Prussia had been so proud of his little bruder. He was at his highest, reaching all the corners of the world. But so many lives had been lost for the rebuilding of the great German Empire. In the beginning, it was worth it. They'd do anything. The others should pay for what they had done. But now… All that was left of their great empire was a ruin soaked in blood.

"I'm staying here. They need my assistance here," he finally stated. Ludwig looked bewildered. A grenade landed nearby and Prussia quickly threw it back, ducking as it exploded mid-air.

"But, Bruder, Russia is…"

"I know very well what Russia is doing!" Prussia snapped. "And you need all the time you can have to reach Berlin, every last fucking minute!"

"I am not leaving you behind!" Germany yelled back.

"West, just do as I say, dammit! This is not the time to discuss that matter!" Prussia sneered. He grabbed Ludwig by his shirt and pulled him down with an incredible strength so that they were at eyelevel.

"Look, West, you're going to Berlin and do your duty there, and I'm staying here to help the men." His eyes softened and he held his little brother's face with both his hands. "I know you're worried, but I'm going to be fine, okay? I'm your awesome big bruder. I'm gonna make it. And so are you. You got that?"

Germany nodded quietly. Suddenly he pulled out his gun and shot some soldier behind Prussia, who didn't even flinch. Germany slowly stood up again, Prussia following him. Prussia had that look in his eyes, Germany thought, looking in his brothers ruby red eyes. That damned look of persistence. And Ludwig knew that he couldn't do anything about it. Gilbert was staying here.

"So.. This is goodbye, bruder."

"Don't you fucking dare say it like we're never going to see each other again. I'll find you, okay?"

Germany slowly nodded again. Prussia smirked at him.

"Oh, and West.. Ask Hitler how his plan's going."

A small smile cracked on Ludwig's lips. Even in situations like these, it was always his brother who knew what to say. But Ludwig trusted him. He then backed away from Prussia, who turned back to face the horrors in the forest, his gun held high, waiting for the Russian soldiers. And as Germany turned away, his guns raised as well, he heard it. That sound. The silent and sickening sound of something being ripped apart and a bullet entering the flesh followed by an echoing crack as the bones broke.

"Sheiβe!" the Prussian swore as the bullet entered his leg. Germany turned quickly and rushed back to his brother who collapsed on the ground. As he came near him, Gilbert merely raised his gun at him.

"Ludwig, you have to go now!" he hissed.

"Bruder, you are hurt, I cannot leave you in a state like this!"

"It's just a goddamn bullet, I've taken tons of them before."

"Gilbert, your leg snapped! You're not able to move!" Gilbert looked testily at him.

"Bullshit."

"Gilbert!"

"West, I'm fine, now leave before I shoot a hole through you instead!"

His younger brother looked hurt at him. He wouldn't, no, couldn't possibly leave his older brother to the mercy of Russia.

"They'll find you."

"As long as they don't find you, West." His brother answered solemnly. "Now go."

Never before had Germany experienced anything harder than leaving his brother behind.

Prussia looked after his brother and he moved quickly through the forest and back towards the camp. He then sighed heavily. He looked at his leg again, watching the blood seep quietly through his trousers. He took a knife out of his boot and came out with a long string of swearwords at he dug into his leg, attempting to scratch out the bullet.
He hissed through his teeth, wincing as the pain shooted through his leg. Once the bullet was out, he ripped off some of his shirt, binding his wound tightly. He then attempted to stand up by pulling himself up a tree for support. Once he stood up, he shifted his weight to the other leg, pulling his gun up and reloaded with a soft click. He heard a shuffling behind him. Gilbert spun around quickly and pointed his gun at a bush, shifting his leg. He slowly moved forwards, keeping the gun in front of him. He pushed the bush aside with the tip of his gun revealing … Nothing.

Suddenly he turned to his right and fired. He ducked and limped to the left as the fire was returned. He sat there quietly and followed the sound and shot again, this time hearing a 'thump' from the bushes. He cautiously neared the soldier. The man was scrambling on the ground, attempting to receive his gun again. Realizing it was too far away, he pulled out a small handgun, pointing it at Gilbert, his hand shaking. Gilbert kicked the gun out of his hand and fired at the man's head. The body collapsed onto the dirt, blood colouring the ground. He reloaded his gun yet again. But, apparently, there was an echo. For right after he cocked his own gun, the same sound was heard behind him. Prussia froze.

"Drop ze gun," a man with a thick Russian accent said behind him. Gilbert made a quickly decision. He could either try to fire at the man and kill him, or just hurt him and try to run. Except, he couldn't run. So how big was the chance that he could shoot the other dead, without being shot himself first? Gilbert threw down his gun.

"Turn around slovely." Gilbert heaved a sigh as he limped around, facing the man. He wore a Russian uniform, had ash-blond hair, a dirty, not amused face and a very, very big gun pointed at Gilbert. The man looked strangely at Gilbert. He stared into the eyes of the Prussian but quickly flickered them away again.

"Глаза дьявола," he mumbled. Then he grabbed the walkie-talkie on his hip and yelled into it.

"30042 contacting ze baze, I repeat 30042 contacting ze baze, can you hear me?" Soon after a crunching reply was heard. "Da, I've found … him. The albino. Njet, I do not see his brother. Da. Da. Njet. Of courze. Coming now, over."

The man looked back at Gilbert, avoiding his eyes. He then motioned with his gun that he should move. And so, Gilbert walked to the Russian Camp, a gun at his back the whole way. He didn't say a thing. Normally he would've insulted the soldier, but as he thought about his current situation, he decided that now probably wasn't the best time.

'Oh well,' he thought. 'At least Ludwig got away. And maybe Russia won't be too hard on me…' Gilbert knew very well that that was a lie.

The first thing he was greeted with when he arrived to the camp, was a tall man, the drenching smell of vodka and the line:

"Ze mighty Prussian Empire… Gilbert Beilscmidt. You are mine now."

A/N:

So here goes my first chapter! (Actually it's the prolouge, but eh)
You are free to leave a comment on what you thought about it.
In fact, you have to.

Kidding!

But it would be awesome.

Translation stuff! :

Sheiβe = Shit

Глаза дьявола = The eyes of the devil himself.

Btw, β is like 'ss'. For an example, Pruβen