He felt the rush of oblivion, the currents of the void. He felt light and heavy. He felt things that no human should have felt.
Was he alive?
Fleeting memories of events that might as well have been dreams swirled within his 'mind'. For even without any clear sensation he knew that he was thinking. That his consciousness was still present, which suggested he was still alive or in some form of existence.
He remembered a quaint city, of culture and music. A city of revolution and change.
Munchen, yes. He was slowly regaining what memory he had. His parents were formerly Prussian Junkers who lost their wealth and decided to resettle in Bavaria where his father managed to regain his fortunes as a textile merchant. His mother a strict God fearing woman of Protestant inclination surrounded by Catholics.
It seemed improbable but memories of his birth flooded as well. He remembered being tended to by a kindly old Doctor of Dutch descent. A memory that should be all but impossible to recall yet he clearly saw his face, and the home that he was born to
Then onwards to his childhood, one dominated by the heavy hand of a zealous woman. They discovered early his angelic singing voice, his parents quick to exploit his talents. He grew up to be a handsome boy of fair features, and a halo of golden hair. Participating in many Opera tours across the Kaiserriech until his voice deepened which brought forth the ended of his career
He remembered puberty, the abuses his authoritarian mother inflicted upon him early on had deeply impacted him. he learned to associate pain with pleasure, an almost ecstatic feeling that quickly became an addiction.
After that he parted himself from his parents, joining the army and fighting in WWI where he had the misfortune of falling victim to a gas attack and barely surviving. This event lead to the development towards a phobia of germs and contaminants. His masochism worsened as he removed parts of his body like eyelids and the lips, forcing himself to craft his own gasmask to ensure his survival as he attempted to reach bodily perfection. This lead to the discovery of a talent of tinkering, with him developing many clockwork devices for his own amusement. Even managing to create a clockwork nightingale that could imitate a Mozart aria perfectly.
Then he remembered the National Socialist Party and Adolf Hitler. This part of his life was more of a blur than his earlier memories. The one memory that stood out the most was his meeting of Rasputin, the Russian mystic who spoke of power beyond the imagining of men.
After Rasputin was the memory of him becoming the head of the Thule Society and Project Ragna Rok, which purpose was to bring fourth Dragon of Revelation that would cleanse the Earth.
Ah.
Now he remembered.
He had tried to grab the grenade that was thrown under the portal when the Allies interfered with the ritual.
The portal.
The blast from the grenade had sent him through the portal.
Karl Ruprecht Kroenen laughed in his mind. Realizing that he was now locked within an eternal prison.
A single raindrop touched his cheeks, he dazedly opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, his limbs felt weak.
Wait.
His eyes opened widened. He felt, something on his skin. He felt broken, like every bone in his body had shattered
He stood up groggily, looking downwards at his clear and flawless skin. His fingernails and toenails were all there. His torso free of scars. He panicked, looked around the dark alleyway he found himself in. He dived into a large puddle of water, looking at his reflection.
His face, he hadn't seen this face when he was merely fifteen. His hands inspected every inch of it. His eyelids were there, his lips as well. His blue eyes blinking in astonishment and messy blond hair soaked with rainwater.
What was the meaning of this? Why was his body imperfect? And why was he not bothered by it?
He felt sick and weak, he didn't know just what had befallen him. He was floating within an empty space of nothingness and now he was in some sort of city?
He looked upwards, his jaw hanging slightly at the massive skyline he bore witness to. He saw pillars of light that pierced the clouds and giant zeppelin-esque battleships anchored on the sky itself and finally a shattered moon that shone red upon the earth.
Kroenen was quick to regain his bearings, after all as the head of the Thule Society he had seen many mystical and otherworldly things. A city with flying ships was not that much of a surprise. The first order of business was to find something to cover his butt naked body.
He spent a good five minutes navigating through this labyrinthine alleyway before encountering intelligent life.
"Y-YOU OWE US THE DUST JAEGER!" He saw tree humanoid beings dressed in white robes, strange bestial masks adorned their faces, the large one who nervously made a demand of an ordinary looking individual of Anglo complexion had horns jutting from his head, his two companions had long ears reminiscent of bunnies. They were standing outside what appeared to be the rear entrance of some store of some kind. The two of them were brandishing clubs while one of the rabbits had a strange hand held scythe.
Kroenen was sure that he had just chanced upon a mugging or extortion of some sort, yet the flippant and casual attitude of the human served a stark contrast to the nervous deposition of the beast-like robed ruffians. Then one of them saw him.
"Y-You there! Human! If you don't turn back now you won't get hurt!" One of the bunny men ordered futility, his droopy ears and stammering did not make him a serious threat at all.
"Yo! Young man who for some reason is walking around naked! I suggest you follow this klutz's advice and leave." The human with his brunette hair and silver eyes cheerfully yelled out, shifting the focus of the thugs back at him.
"Shut it Jaeger! The White Fang need you to pay your dues!" The Ox man growled out with marginally more energy than his compatriots.
After surveying this little confrontation Kroenen came to a conclusion. These three were completely out of there depth and the man they were trying to intimidate was far more likely to kill them than vice versa.
The bunny-man with the white fur disengaged from the conversation, approaching him steadily with the sickle in his hand in response to Kroenen's refusal to comply.
"Look we warned you hu-" Kroenen was quick, he grabbed his wrist with his left hand and took away his sickle with his right, using it to slice open his neck in one smooth continuous movement.
They were all frozen in a stupor, completely taken by the sudden murder. The Ox-man was the first to regain his senses, quickly fleeing the scene in a mad panic. The remaining bunny-man charged at him while screaming bloody murder.
"YOU KILLED MY BROTHER YO-" Kroenen wasted no time on him like his brother, efficiently and gracefully vaulting over the bunny-man with the sickle finding itself within his left nostril. His own momentum slicing his skull vertically.
He landed on a pool of rainwater and blood to the sound of clapping.
"I'm impressed, you killed two of the White Fang's cronies naked and with efficient grace. What's your name?" The man passed him by, offering his hand.
Kroenen hesitated, staring at his hand apprehensively.
"Karl Ruprecht Kroenen." He said in a soft and quiet voice as he grabbed the man's hand.
Two years had passed since he ended up in this place, his past of killing for the Third Reich now supplanted by a present killing for Schwartz Jaeger, a small time fence within the City of Atlas. Jaeger had quickly taught the boy about the world of Remnant, about Dust and the Grimm. He told him about the previous wars between the Kingdoms and the relationships between Faunus and Humans.
It reminded him of the Reich and the Jews. He had become an assassin for hire with Jaeger as his fixer. His specialty killing Faunas and he had quickly earned the nickname "Faunus Hunter", the White Fang in particular had placed a very exorbitant amount of lien on his head and unfortunately for them none were good enough to collect it. It was an embarrassment, grown men incapable of killing a seventeen year old boy. Although this seventeen year old boy was in fact a much older man who had learned the ways of swordsmanship and killing.
His most prolific and well-paying client was the Schnee Dust Company, whenever the SDC had a 'complication' involving the White Fang he was dispatched to 'solve' whatever problems were had. Eventually he became the go to asset whenever anything Faunus related needed to be dealt quietly, quickly and with appropriate violence. His relationship with Schnee blossomed into something resembling his earlier tutelage under Rasputin, the Schnee had given him access to many wonderful gadgets and lots of Dust; and in return he would further their interests with blade and blood.
Kroenen was confident that whatever happened in his previous life as Hitler's top assassin was pretty much done. He had no idea how he even arrived here but in the end he had no desire to return as well. Unlike his old self the new Kroenen no longer had the need to surgically modify himself, he was surprisingly satisfied with his current appearance although he still found no need to go out without his gasmask.
Indeed, he was wearing the specially designed gasmask he personally crafted right now as he stood at attention within the elevator that was taking him towards the office of Mister Schnee.
He looked at the glass plane that showed the city of Atlas to him, seeing a hazy mirror of himself. His gasmask was deliberately designed to resemble that of the White Fang, a mocking gesture and an effective way to confuse his prey. His coat and undergarments were almost an exact replica of his Waffen-SS uniform, only instead of black it was all white. He heard a bell ring out and doors opening.
He turned and entered the office of Mister Schnee.
"Ah Mister Totenkopf a pleasure to meet you once more." Schnee was as cold and icy as ever, his sculpted grey-white mustache was immaculately clean like his slick hair. He wore the same old double-breasted white jacket with his ever present red handkerchief.
Silber Totenkopf, literal translation Silver Skull. It was a ridiculous and absurd name, a name not even found in fiction. He had decided using it because of the strange naming conventions that were in place in this world for apparently Karl Ruprecht Kroenen was a 'ridiculous' name in the words of Schwartz.
"What is the purpose of my visit Mister Schnee?" Kroenen said in a much deeper voice, undergoing puberty all over again was troublesome. He had not missed the joys of discovering the very capricious and dangerous nature of the fairer sex.
"As blunt as ever, I need you for a long-term job, one that involves 'body guarding' for lack of a better term." The older man turned his attention to his personal scroll, his hands waving away the various screens.
"You will be enrolled within Beacon Academy in order to train yourself in the ways of the Huntsmen." At this Kroenen shifted in his seat.
"I'm sorry but I'm skilled enough in the ways of Dust, Aura and Semblance as it is. I see no need for me to attend such an institution unless it pertains to the contract itself. "Schnee looked at him, slowly nodding his head.
"The contract is protection and observation. I want you shadow this individual at all times." A screen blinked into existence, showing a girl in a white dress fighting against a giant armored knight.
"Weiss Schnee." Kroenen said surprisingly, recognizing Mister Schnee's youngest.
"Yes. My daughter" Kroenen chuckled slightly, the noise muffled by his mask.
"I didn't know you were capable of paternal love Schnee." At this the man's face hardened and his fist tightened.
"Do not be so casual with me assassin. I am still a client and I expect the respect accorded to one who holds your pay."Kroenen shrugged simply.
"As you wish Mister Schnee. Looks like I'm going back to school then." He took out his own scroll, downloading the data necessary for the job.
Before he left for the elevator Schnee gave some parting advice.
"Don't involve yourself too much into my daughters affairs. I want you to watch over her, not coddle her." Kroenen turned his head back, nodding silently.