It is January 17th, 1943, early morning.

You're in your little kitchen, cooking ersatz coffee. The man you spent the last night with, the recently promoted SS-Obersturmführer Arthur Hoehnar, is still sleeping in your bed.

Looking out your window, you can see the fires still burning. For the first time in over a year, the Allies bombed Berlin. Not counting the smaller raids now then, of course.
You had spent the day at the hospital, not knowing if you would find your home in ruins. When you saw it still standing, you wanted to cry with relief, but that wouldn't do.
Arthur liked his women cool and detached, like Marlene Dietrich and Zarah Leander.

The Völkische Beobachter on your kitchen table has another glowing article for the Führer and his ecree on the full employment of men and women in the defence of the Reich. It's good you're already working as a nurse, otherwise you would be ordered to the factories to make bombs and ammunitions, too.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:10, Sun 21 June 2020.

Lena choked down the terrible coffee to choke down the terrible feelings she got, but could never show, when she had to spend such time with these men she despised so much.  When she was alone, she sometimes had neurotic thoughts that no one kind and decent would ever want to touch her ever again because they would subconsciously smell the taint on her.  She knew it was ridiculous, but it still occurred.

There was nothing to eat in the apartment, but that was just as well, she couldn't have brought herself to eat right now anyway.

That was a significant bombing raid.  Lena was a spy and not a general so she was not qualified to say what it meant exactly, but she had to wonder.  A hollow, stinging sensation in the pit of her stomach came when she wondered if her own forces were going to bomb the hospital and wind up killing her.  They certainly hadn't warned her about the raid.  Of course that was expected, communication wasn't exactly casual or regular, and it had been made clear to her all those years ago that being a spy was mostly sending (encoded) messages in a bottle and just knowing that you had stuck to your fieldcraft protocols.  For all Lena knew, the Nazis had been on to her since day one and had intercepted every communique she'd sent out, but then again maybe they had not, in which case the whole point of her being there was to endure the attacks.

She had feared mostly for the shortwave transceiver being a victim of the bombing.  That was irreplaceable at this point.  For the first few months she'd simply kept it in her suitcase, but she'd figured out, with some hilarious improvised tools like butter knives, she could slide the back panel off the kitchen cabinet, and behind that was a small panel in the wall she'd managed to cut out to hold the radio.  She often wondered what the point of that was, since if anyone looked it would be fairly obvious it had been cut, but it did look better if you happened to look behind the cabinet from the side.  It was little details like that which mattered sometimes.

Though it was a breach of field protocol, Lena had taken to keeping the lockpicks on her as those too were irreplaceable, but not nearly so important.  In her legend, Karl Vogt had been a locksmith, so sentimentality was her excuse if she ever did get caught with them.  Fortunately in the panoply of tools and gear a nurse was expected to cart about, there were many, many distractions about her person.

Arthyr Hoehnar was supposed to be invited to some Party function this week.  They were ghastly affairs, done to make the party and the SS in particular seem glamorous.  As much as she was disgusted by the men who wore the SS uniforms at this point, she could swallow that bitter pill just fine.  It was actually the other women present who really turned her stomach.  Lena was a spy and didn't actually like any of these men, that was her excuse.  As vile as they were, they provided some excellent intelligence because the guest list of who was at these things told a lot.  She wasn't sure now whether it would still be held, but that couldn't be helped.

Lena could not help but wonder if OSI would attempt to remove its assets if there were going to be a definitive assault on Berlin.  But until she knew anything she had to keep up her legend.  The longer it went, the more resolute she became that she had to gather every scrap of information she could.   While some intel like the hospital roster might not be valuable now, years later when tribunals were trying to establish which officer had been present in which battle, information like that could be invaluable.  She grabbed the newspaper and a straight pin and prepared the report as best she could.  For daily reports that didn't have much substance to them, she often used a newspaper and the pin code.

She would have to cajole Arthur to take her out when he woke up, so she was steeling herself for that.  Then there'd be another day in the hospital.

Lena was all but done with her report, when she could hear Arthur stir in bed, waking up with a loud yawn. The springs in her bed squeaked as the Obersturmbannführer got out.

A minute later, Arthur came into the kitchen, naked, except with his jacket draped over his shoulders.
He hugged her tightly from behind.
"Good morning, mein Liebchen!" he said, as he pressed a wet kiss on her left cheek. Then he pulled an envelope from his coat pocket and flopped it down on the table in front of her, then the jacket down next to it.

"Here, could you get a needle and fix my badges and straps? Won't get a new coat before they make me Hauptsturmführer. Shouldn't be too long now, though... just a bit of luck and I might make it in the summer."

He sat down next to her. "And why did you get dressed already? I still got time for some more fun."

He took a sip of coffee and tried very hard not to make a face.

He was not the only one who repressed making a face, though Lena was far more successful.

She assumed her role, as he had to be badgered a bit.  The trick to the honey pot was to let out a bit of honey, then clamp the lid back on and make the mark work to get the lid off of it again.

She'd worked very hard on her German since arriving here.  It was already very good as she just had to imitate her parents, and she was getting loads of practice, but she couldn't let up.  Right now she'd need that mastery to sound convincing.

"You men are so helpless, you work so hard to get these precious badges, and then you cannot even put them on your coat."  She teased him relentlessly.  "You don't want a girl, you want a mother."

As she fussed she rose.  There was not much in this apartment to speak of, it was quite the compact space.  Even then it was better than many because at least it had separate rooms.  There was a small writing desk where she kept stationary and hid her Kampfmesser.  But its single drawer was full of various clutter she had no other place for, and that included what she had of needle and thread.

"It will have to be with white thread, I can find no other color lately.  But as you say, it is temporary.  It should not be very visible anyway."

She sat down to attend the chore.  It wouldn't be difficult, she had worked similar stitches alongside her mother many times.



Lena scowled at him.  "You awaken and ask me to be a seamstress when I have to be in the the hospital soon enough, and you complain?  Is this all you care about, what kind of girl do you think I am?  You didn't even take me anywhere worthwhile last night."

She was being a bit difficult and lightly insulting his status as she sewed, challenging his ego a bit, but not too much.  Lena had to get him to placate her with some gesture designed to impress the pretty nurse before he ultimately got bored with her and found another pretty nurse.  But for now she had his attention and had to goad him into doing something that would show how powerful and important he was.  Something that might give Lena access to something primo.

She would have today's patient logs to prepare, and would do her best to prepare a report on what the bombings had actually destroyed.  If she could gather enough information she might even supply a map.

"Everybody does what they do best for the Reich. Women tend the homes, while we go off and fight for the glory of the Fatherland."
He reached out and slapped her buttocks as she walked past him, barking out a laughter. "And who knows, one day you may be a mother of beautiful children! I can put one or seven into your belly, if you want. A nice Mother's Cross isn't too shabby, right?"


"Ach, mein Liebchen, don't be like that. Why don't you let me make it up to you? Some real breakfast on your way to the hospital, maybe? I could get you some real tea, if you'd like...?"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:43, Mon 22 June 2020.

"Is this what you tell your girls in Hamburg and Munich?"  Lena shot back in a huff.  "You do not get the Mother's Cross for having bastards."

Lena was probably a little too on the nose there, but she had also learned the ways of the Reich.  Hypocrisy was their stock and trade.  Besides it was a perfect setup for her next ploy.



Lena pouted.  "I don't want tea I want you to take me to something nice.  Emma's boyfriend takes her dancing with the other officers and their girls."  She was positively juvenile about it too.  It also helped that it was true, Emma had in fact introduced them.  And Thomas too was a young SS officer, but promoted just slightly ahead of Arthur.  Lena hoped the comparison would make him knee jerk out of jealousy.

Take the bait you Nazi bastard.

There it was. That flicker of dark rage building behind his eyes. Arthur pressed his lips tightly together, his jaw muscles visibly working as he ground his teeth together.

For a long moment, the tension grew. Then he leaned back. "Emma's boyfriend has his tongue so deep up Himmler's ass he can taste the Reichsführer's dinner from two days ago. Probably likes it, too, the little faggot."

He raised his arms in seeming defeat. "Alright, alright. You want to go some place special?" He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her nod.
"In two weeks is the 10th anniversary of the Führer's rise to the chancellorship. There's going to be a large ball. That would be nice, wouldn't it?"

He leaned forward: "But what if I can take you to a smaller, more intimate gala dinner the week before that? Ever been to the Wannsee Villa? Would you like to meet Frau Goebbels and Frau Braun?"

"Oh Arthur!"  She brightened up instantly, suddenly all sunshine and rainbows, sweet as streusel.  "That sounds wonderful.  Why... you were just teasing me this whole time weren't you?"

She pushed her arm against his shoulder.  "You outsmarted me again!"

And as much as it hurt to do it, she had to.  Lena put down her sewing and jumped into his lap to kiss him.

She had a little switch in her brain for moments like this that she'd learned to flick off.

Arthur wrapped his arms around her and got up, carrying her back to the bedroom ignoring her giggling protests.
"Come on, you can show me how grateful you are for me to take you out. I know my 'girls in Munich and Hamburg' would show me..."", said, mockingly using the words she had used before.

<FADE TO BLACK>

It's Saturday, January 23rd, 1943. A week before the 10-year-anniversary of Hitler's chancellorship.

Lena had to call in a few favors to make sure she'd be free that day and evening, she wouldn't need to get back to he hospital before the Sunday night shift began.
Arthur had been in been in a nervous mood all day, smoking constantly and taking his frustrations out on her. Three times Lena had to re-apply her make up, the first apparently making her look like "a Reeperbahn whore" and the second attempt making her look like "an old potatoe".
Arthur definitely knew how to charm women.

But, he had also bought a very nice and expensive dress for her, to fit into the overall gathering. For the probably 10th time today, he gave her the instructions:
"I will drive you there and drop you off. I then have to turn around and get the boss." She still had no idea who the man was, but apparently she'd find out today. "You wait there and please - Please! - don't embarrass me. This is extremely important for my career. And don't ask any stupid questions! You give answers when spoken to, but be polite. Don't offer any opinions! Just be the, you know, perfect little house wife. I'll be back within an hour or so."

Later that day, Arthur drove his Mercedes staff car to the Wannsee villa. It was an ominous building, but why, Lena couldn't say.



She got out of the car, but before she could kiss Arthur goodbye, he had already turned around and headed back out.

"Of course Arthur."  Lena was all sweetness and light.  She wasn't here for him, she'd put up with it for access to what she wanted.

When he took off, she took the chance to look about.  It was a good opportunity to do some basic surveillance.  She didn't want to appear to be overly motivated, but her eyes could move from one edge, one window, one roofline to the next.  She also looked to see if there were any escape routes or cache spots.

The grounds are under heavy guard: SS-men patrol the area around the house in pairs with dogs, along the walls a few wooden towers have been hastily assembled, allowing a clear view of the roads and fields leading towards the main entrance.

If Lena would have to flee, it would not be easy.

An older woman in a maid's dress approaches Lena, coming from behind the left side of the house. "Hello, Fräulein - are you part of the guests?"
Then she shakes her head.
"Why, of course you are, why else would you be here? Silly old me! Please just go right in, then keep to the right. You'll find the others in the Red Salon."

"Oh thank you."  Lena bowed courteously.  She at least knew where she stood here.  Whatever happened, she had to acquiesce to it and try to get through it civilly and with grace.  This was not the place to try to... acquire anything.  She did keep a small notepad and knew shorthand, and she doubted very much too many people could read shorthand (in English no less), especially if it were disguised as lines of doodles.  But even that was just thinking, it was best if she did no such thing she needed to be a ditzy, easily impressed nurse using a young SS officer to climb socially.

"Please let my... gentleman escort know where I have absconded to when he arrives.  I believe he will return very soon after retrieving another guest."

The older woman nods then turns around tending to her chores again. You enter the villa through the open door. Inside, bustling noises can be heard, with several servants hustling about, making last-minute-changes to the layout of the tables. An old butler greets you with a stiff bow and with a wave of his hand summons another servant who takes your coat.

With a deep, gravely voice, the butler welcomes you: "Good evening and welcome to the Villa Marlier. Some of the guests have already arrived and are waiting in the Red Salon. We are serving some light drinks and entrees to spend the time. If you would follow me, please."

He glares at the younger servant who apparently does an abysmal job of hanging your coat, then leads Lena toward the Red Salon, opening the door for you and ushering you in.

The Red Salon is, well, red. The carpet a dark burgundy red, the ceiling, and the walls covered with murals, all featuring the color red quite heavily.


This room alone must have cost more than the house your little appartment is in. At least it feels like that. In one corner, a piano player plays a few light tunes. To your left, along the windows to the back yard of the villa are afew tables with dishes of fruits, sandwiches, and even a few cakes. Among the fruits, you spot oranges and bananas and try very hard to remember when was the last time you saw either of them in a shop. The delicious smell of real coffee fills the room.

Several women and a few men, the latter all officers of the SS, are standing and chatting in the room. Nobody seemingly takes any notice of you.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:49, Mon 22 June 2020.

That was fine with Lena.  She gingerly took some coffee, she needed to blend in but did not want to eat to excess, and it gave her an excuse to be silent as she sipped it.  The less noticed she was the better and she began to survey the room, trying to see if she could identify anyone from any of the dossiers, or at least discern their ranks and commands.  A report of who had been sighted in Berlin might be worth something.

The officers already gathered seem to be mostly junior, but Reichsleiter Bormann, Hitler's secretary hovers, in the room. He reminds you of a vulture, ready to strike at weakness.
And there's Heinz Guderian, the father of the German Blitzkrieg tactics. That's... surprising. He was relieved of his command just a few weeks ago. That he was back in Berlin was one thing, but him being here seemed significant.

Lost in thought, you almost jump as another woman, in her late twenties or early thirties addresses you: "And who do we have here, Fräulein?".

"Oh, so nice to meet you.  I'm Lena Vogt, I'm here with Oberleutnant Hoehnar.  This is such a lovely ballroom."  Lena smiled, trying to stick her legend.  An easily impressed good German social climbing nurse.

*I have no idea what his actual rank would be, I know the SS worked a bit differently than the general German ranks.  I'm sure he's not a Corporal I just picked a rank.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:12, Tue 23 June 2020.

(Updated the rank, but took the Wehrmacht Equivalent)

"Oh, nice to meet you! I'm Eva Braun. You can call me Eva." She leans in a bit closer. "Among this group, it's best to stick to the SS-ranks. The men are peculiar this way. So that would be Obersturmführer Hoehnar. Interesting. Caught yourself a nice one!"

She looks around the room. "Let me introduce you to the others. And a quick pointer about the ranks: Today, we have only Obersturmführer and above here. And let me think... yes, a couple of Sturmbannführer, Standartenführer and of course a few of the higher-ups too. It's going to be just a small gathering."

Lena laughed good-naturedly.  "Well this would have been quite the prime gala in Tübingen.  It is nice to meet you Eva, and that would be lovely.  Though I do wonder where poor dear Arthur is."

Poor and dear Arthur was not, but she did wonder where he was.  Nonetheless she was taking this opportunity, this was primo.  Getting the names of the attendees would be a sweet plum to drop to Allied central intelligence.