Epilogue

*Clink*

Paul March set down his fork, pushed his dinner away, and sighed. It had been a week since the battle at the Spandau Citadel and the shock of it all still weighed heavily over him. He tried not to blame himself, but there were times when he couldn't help it. Self-pity was reserved for the privileged, Paul thought. There was little time in the wasteland for the average person to indulge in it, but in the down time, between battles and scavenging, when one had time to think to himself, Paul understood it.

After the battle, after making his report to General Harper, Paul returned to the Pariser Platz U-Bahn station. The Euro-American Enclave had won, had put the Neue Deutsche Monarchie on the run, and now there was little work for a freelancer like Paul to do.

And so it was back to Pariser Platz for him. Back to running the U-Bahn station and coordinating with the rest of the network. He stood from his folding table and left the room that made up his home. He stopped in the lobby and looked at the closed door of what had been Hans' room, left exactly the way Hans had left it when he disappeared a year ago. Now that Hans was dead he no longer had an excuse to leave it unoccupied. He and Erich would have to go through it, divvy up Hans' belongings, and then clear the room out for the next tenant. Paul decided he'd give the room to Erich, though he was sure the man would object. Hans' death had been hard on him too, leaving him regretting that he hadn't been there to help, though he didn't show it.

Can't blame the big guy, Paul thought. He was about to head down to the platform, to see how the other tenants were doing and see if there was any news from the other stations, when he heard heavy thumping on the stairs leading to the surface. He looked and saw Erich Braun descending the steps, clad in his Semi-Powered Armor Suit. He approached Paul, removed his helmet, and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Trouble?" Paul asked.

Erich shook his head. "There's someone here to see you."

Paul nodded and walked up the steps to the surface. Standing by the steps, smoking a cigar, was General Andrew Harper. He saw Paul coming up and nodded to him, snuffing out the cigar and putting it in his pocket. "Herr March, good to see you again."

"Hey, you came to see me, not the other way around," Paul said. "So what's up?"

"Nothing important," Harper said. "I just wanted to thank you again, on behalf of the Euro-American Enclave, for all the work you and Herr Eckhart did for us. His contributions won't be forgotten."

Paul scratched the side of his head. "Maybe I've been reading too many pre-war comics, but I feel like this is the part where you pull out a gun and leave me bleeding on the sidewalk."

Harper smiled. "No, nothing like that. I just came by to see how you and the other U-Bahn stations are doing. Remnants of the NDM still remain in Berlin, but they'll be mopped up before too long. We'll have them all cleaned up by the end of the year and then we can get back to work rebuilding Germany."

"Were it so easy," Paul said. "What about those V2s?"

"They'll be disposed of, don't you worry. Them and any other chemical weapons we find. I won't let us or anyone else use that evil shit. And, just so you know, that means there'll still be demand for freelancers such as yourself. There's plenty of more work to be done, Herr March," Harper said. "There's still a lot of trash left in Berlin that needs to be cleaned up. Mutants, communists, cultists, and God only knows what else. They all need to be removed before Germany can get back on her feet."

Paul sighed and looked to the Brandenburg Gate. The sun was setting, casting the beautiful stone monument in a orange glow. Its mighty pillars sent long shadows stretching across the pavement below, providing shade for the members of a traveling caravan. A man and a kid, from the looks of it. Paul watched them stand by the Brandenburg Gate for a few minutes, talking, before they got moving again, deeper into Berlin proper.

"I'll keep it in mind, thanks," Paul eventually said to Harper. The American nodded, smiled, and bowed his head.

"You know where to find us, Herr March. Just remember that man never changes."

With that the American turned and left, walking back to an electric Kubelwagen parked nearby. Standing next to it was his bodyguard, the bug-eyed visor of his helmet illuminated like a flashlight. Paul stood by the steps until Harper and his guard got back in the Kubelwagen and drove away, heading back to Tempelhofer Feld.

"What was all that about?" Erich asked as he came up the steps. Paul sighed and leaned against the iron fence that surrounded the entrance to the U-Bahn station. He looked at the Brandenburg Gate again, thinking.

"Nothing important," Paul said, idly picking at his dirty fingernails. "Nothing at all. Just thinking about something Hans said to me once, about our future being built on a foundation of corpses."

"Isn't everyone's?" Erich asked. "If he came to offer work then sign me up. I'll be happy to exterminate more of the filth plaguing our country. It'll be easy, if half of what you told me about those Americans is true."

Paul scoffed and smiled. "Maybe so," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if there's a different way, though. One where we figure out how to lift everyone up, instead of cutting them all down. Of course, part of me also remembers something I heard someone else said once, about how man never changes, and I wonder whether he was right or not."

"You'll have to teach me that trick sometime," Erich said. "The one where you open your mouth and Hans' voice comes out."

Paul grinned, turned around, and slapped the man on his shoulder. "What can I say? He taught me well."

"I'm sure," Erich said. He put his helmet back on and went down the steps, disappearing into the station. Paul remained on the surface, leaning against the fence and watching the sun set. There was certainly a lot more work to be done; there was no doubt that Harper had been right about that, but Paul wondered just what kind of work. Of course, he knew what kind of work the American wanted him to do, but it wasn't the only kind of work left that could bring stability back to Berlin.

"Man never changes," Paul whispered to himself. He glanced down the steps to the Pariser Platz U-Bahn station and sighed. "Guess we'll find out if that's true."

After a few more minutes, Paul March walked back down the stairs.

End