Well.

'Just as I thought.'

Wonderful to see you again, Captain, although the circumstances could certainly be better.

'I thought it was you.'

Keep driving, ma'am. I shall keep them tied up here, haha. He hasn't changed a bit. Of course not, he's a vampire, but nevertheless, why do these dreadful people get to keep their looks while the rest of us wither? They shall not grow old, as we who are left behind grow old, eh? Same blonde hair, same sharp, aryan nose, when one can actually see it behind that collar, same blank, but slightly contemptuous glare. And if that dirt is anything to judge by, exactly the same hat. You would think he'd take a bit of pride in his appearance, brush it occasionally. In my day, which was of course also his day, you could see your face in a Nazi's boots. Even the Wehrmacht. He must have slipped over the past… how long is it now?

'You're exactly right, boy. I haven't seen you in such a long time, Walter. As I recall, it's been nearly 55 years since the last time we met.'

Oh yes, that was it. Fifty-five years. And who do you think you're calling "boy"?

'Why are you always…'

That dreadful piggy little Major is behind me. Hiding again, the coward. If you would do me the kindness of releasing just one of my wires, Captain, I should very much like to wipe the smirk off his horrible porcine face. No? No, I didn't think you would. Oh well.

'..Always, always showing up and interrupting our meal?'

I like to think I can be depended upon, Herr Major. Dependable old retainer, that's me. Now, they have me in something of a bind. I could release the wires, but that would leave me unarmed. And although they seem to have cut through the captain's gloves into his hand and are causing his fingers to ooze goodness knows what, I don't think he is going to let go. What's more, the scuffling behind me indicates that something is going on.

'Jetzt! Gehst!'

Well, that's that decision made for me. Drop and roll, as the SAS man said to the pancake seller.

Oh, they seem to have planned for that one. Now, whose arm is this? Ugh, tastes dreadful. Someone else in serious need of a clothesbrush.

'Hier! Schnell!'

'Ach! Biß er mich!'

'DUMKOPF! Du bist kein Midian. "Biß er mich"…'

I suppose running is the only option now.

'Nein, junge.'

This just isn't on. Tying a man up with his own wires. It has to be against some kind rule of war, or convention. Where the devil did he learn to use them?

If I move, I'll slice myself into bits.

'Holt still, boy, und zis vill hurt lezs.'

'I doubt I could move if I wanted to, Herr Doktor.'

'Ach, you englischers, alvays ze insolent "backchatting". Ho Ho Ho. Jetzt. Der Nadel.'

Nadel. I think I can guess what that word means.

Ouch. I do hate being right.

It gets dark so early these days….

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"…ze best I could do given zese facilities, zir. He is adequately restrained."

I don't seem to be dead. I suppose that's one good thing so far. I don't seem to be able to move though. At the risk of committing an awful cliché. 'Where am I?'

'Ah, ze patient is awake. How do you feel?'

'Immobile. Am I going to live, Doctor?'

'Nein, junge. You are most definitely not going to live. On ze uzzer hand, you are also not going to die eizer.'

I don't remember asking you anything, Major.

'I asked the Doctor.'

I do hate the way he laughs. Like a old sow with chronic pulmonary disease. This is really very humiliating. I wish I could move my head and see what's happening.

'Ve haff zese two vials.' That's the Doctor, I assume, waving glass tubes filled with identical clear liquid in my face. 'In zis, our Ubermensch Serum. Ze Midianmaker. In ze uzzer, a little surprise. You may have noticed zat your neck is a little numb…'

I hadn't, but I have now.

'Zat is because ve haff cannulated your jugular vein. Nein, do not try to look, it vould be most upsetting, even for a man of your calibre, and you may lose consciousness again. Anyvay, ve haff restrained your head.'

He's doing something with my neck. This is most distressing.

'First, ze serum.'

Deep breaths. It's spreading though my body, I can feel it. I will not scream. I will NOT scream. An englishman does not show fear in front of his adversaries.

'I haff seen zis procedure several times already, Doktor.'

Yawn at my humiliation? Go away, Piggy. I shall grit my teeth and think of England.

'Is it not vunderful to inflict it on our old adversary, zough?'

'I must admit…'

'Ja.'

Don't sound so enthusiastic, Captain. This is less painful than I thought it would be, although admittedly that's still reasonably painful. I feel… malleable. Strong. Also, the arthritis in my left elbow seems to have vanished completely. Mind you, I won't know that for certain until I try to lift anything.

'Dok, seine Augen.'

'Ja, you are qvite right, Captain. Hafing reached zis stage of ze transformation, ze subject is Midian enough to heal any damage, but not to remap ze affected parts exactly as before. Also, ve administer ze second serum. Englische, bitte. Für den Jungen.'

'Ich tue nichts für den Jungen.'

'Ach. You are stubborn.'

'Would you please stop bickering and concentrate on whatever you're injecting me with bef..' My voice sounds different.

'I am impressed. All ze previous subjects vere screaming in horror by now. I can barely see it even in your eyes.'

'Just get on with it.' The pain is lessening, but my teeth are sharpening. How long, I wonder, before I begin to crave blood? And more importantly, am I strong enough to break these straps yet?

'I am already finished.'

'Is something supposed to be happening?'

'Ja.'

'What?'

'Vat is your name?'

'What a stupid question. It's W.. Wait, it's on the tip of my tongue… definitely begins with W.'

What is my name? What have you done to me!

'Vhere vere you brought up? How old are you? Vat is your name?'

I can't remember. 'I can't remember.'

Someone's clapping. I don't know who.

'Sehr gut! Sehr gut! Excellent vork, Doktor!'

He sounds like a pig, though. He seems familiar.

'Zis is nuzzing. Ze name is first to go, as it iss zo intangible. Ze deepest, most precious memories, zese are ze last to vanish. Ve have successfully sealed off ze hippocampus. He no longer has access to his long term memories. Ass a result, zere is no frame of reference for faces, names, for hiss own identity.'

'Can you make him speak German?'

'Nein, zir. Ze areas of Broca und Wernicke muzt be left intact, or he vill be uzeless to us, unable to speak, read, or think in any language at all. He must be able to understand commands, ja?'

What does all this mean? Who are these people?

'In anuzzer…. Minute und a half, he vill no longer remember anyzing from hiss past, und his identity vill be a blank slate.'

'A blank slate zat ve vill write on.'

'Jawohl, Herr Sturmbannführer.'

I remember.. a child. Blue eyes, fair hair. Nothing. Who am I?

Does it matter?

'Completely blank. Zat expression looks familiar, eh Captain? Captain, vere are you goink?'

'Weg. Dieses macht mich krank.'

'Let him go. He is zuffering from ze loss of a noble adversary. Is it safe to release ze patient?'

I shall assume from the fact I no longer seem to be restrained that it is. Now why should it not be safe to release me, I wonder?

'Zat is not ze boy who defeated us. Nor is it ze old man.'

What are you talking about? So many questions…Who am I, pig-man, man-with-too-many-fingers? Why are you holding up a mirror? That must be me… Why, the last time I saw this face was the first time miniskirts were in fashion. Wait, that was… no, it's gone. Damn. Who am I?

'Who am I?'

'Vy, you are Butler, off course. Butler, off ze glorious Letzt Battalion, ja?

Butler. That has something to do with… I'm thinking of tea, for some reason and it seems familiar. Yes.

'Und you are a Midian, an immortal vampire.'

'What?' Well, that explains the pointed teeth.

'You vill get used to it. Vot vaz ze name zey used for him?'

'Engel of Death, Major.'

'Ah, ja. Der Todesengel. As I remember, zere vas ein Todesengel for Auschwitz, vasn't zere Dok?'

'You embarrass me, zir.'

'Also gut. Unser Todesengel. Kommt, Butler, you vill be hungry.'

Hungry. Yes. 'I am.'

'Ve shall see how you hunt. Zen, ah, zen. Und dann, Krieg.'

Strange little Pig-Major.

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What are these? Do you use them for cutting cheese? Hah, that rhymed. Pay attention, Butler. 'What are these?'

'Dok?'

The pig major doesn't seem happy. Nor does the doctor, although in more of a scared sort of way.

'Zir, ze basal ganglia zhould be untouched. He valks and moves vizout any trouble. Ze neurons zat let him use ze vires are intact. He only does not remember vat zey are for.'

'Ah, I zee. Butler, zose are monofilament vires, and zey are a veapon, ja? You are a soldier.'

'In der Letzt Battalion.'

'You learn fast. Use ze vires. Your muscles vill remember how. Hunt. You are a Midian, seek out your prey. Zis city is full of people, our enemies. Zose who do not wear ze Kreuz gebrochen, ze swastika.'

Hunt. How do animals hunt? By smell, sound, sight. Why do I only remember some things? Focus. Listen. I hear no breathing from any of us. In the distance, shouting, explosions. Smell. Burning, pollution in the air of this city I know I should remember its name. I've been here before. There, close by, something alive. I smell fear, fear and blood. Suddenly, I'm very, very hungry.

'I svear, his ears prick up like a dog.. Go, Butler.'

You have no right to call me a dog, little piggy-man.

'Vould you look at zose eyes, I am sorry, I haff offended you. Now go! Drink blood, become strong.'

Which way? There, down that street. Fear, and blood. Have I always been able to run this fast? No matter. Now I hear feet, running feet, and mine make no noise, so it must be my prey. A flash of white in the darkness. Does it know it's being chased? No, too much fear. It has panicked and is running wildly. Far too slow. We've run into some kind of open space. There's a pillar in the middle, and I can see huge beasts. Lions. Stone Lions. Good, plenty of open space. Now, how do I use these things? Throw, from the wrist, and wait until it tangles itself up. Then close in.

No wonder you fell over. That seems a very impractical outfit for running. Now, there must be a neck under that silly pointed hood.

'Monstre! Je vous en prie, relâchez-moi!..!'

It talks.

'If you struggle, the wires will only cut deeper.' Let's get this hood off.

'Anglais? Pliz… let me go..Mon dieu, les yeux!'

You seem so young. And tender. 'Shhh.' I can see the pulse beating in your throat.

'Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum! Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terraaaaarghhhchhh."

I can feel your pulse beating in my mouth and your blood flowing into mine.

It's wonderful.

I can't get enough.

You seem to be dead. Your blood is all over my mouth, all over you, and all over the stone platform you're lying dead on, and I don't think anyone loses that much blood and lives. Have I ever done this before? I don't remember. I must have. I have a handkerchief somewhere, I'm sure. Yes, in my breast pocket. There, mouth clean, blood all over the cloth. There's something written on this handkerchief.

W. D. And a shield. Black and red. What does that mean? No matter, I'm sure it will all become clear.

'Vas zat enjoyable, Butler?'

Ah, pig-major. 'Yes.'

'Vunderbar. Excellent job, Doktor. Mission accomplished. Vell, gentlemen, I belieef it is time to get back to vurk. Pick up zose vires, Butler, zere's a var on, you know. Hahaha! Ich liebe Krieg.'

'Is there?'

'Ja, indeed, mein Todesengel!'

'Oh.'

End

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Author's Notes.

This fic is rather experimental, especially as it's in the first person voice, I prefer to use the third. I thought I'd better write it before Hirano-sensei explains what actually happened and makes it alternate universe. Walter's head is a hard one to get inside, so he's probably out of character. I apologise for the large amounts of (undoubtedly very bad and full of errors) german in this and hope it doesn't detract too much from the story. I promise to stop using so much non-english in english-section fics. If any german speakers could point out my mistakes, I'd be very grateful, as I lack a german beta reader. Thanks to Asenath for correcting the french. Other comments, as always, constructive or destructive, are heartily welcome.

Yrs faithfully,

Hon Cpt. Urwen, CJD, Kip. C. B. E.