“Unfortunately, business is what brings me here. It’s not like I get a decent vacation every now and then. You know how it is, I’m sure.  The Führer’s work is never done.”<span style="font-style: italic">Bluthund</span>Drechsler was very polite, and sincerely too.  It was very reassuring.<br/><br/>Yvonne nodded with a quiet sigh, her shoulders falling into a comfortable place - still rather straight for most others, but relaxed all the same.  He was vague, and she would get to the bottom of it later.  In all likelihood, he had been called on to see to orders privately and hadn't yet received his instructions, so he wouldn't know himself.  "Indeed," she agreed.  "It has been an eternal battle against the sinners and the Fuhrer is one of our mightiest soldiers.  I can wait for my vacation in Paradise."<br/><br/>There was a heavy silence between them that was not uncomfortable.  They shared it.<br/><br/>"Heh," she smirked, "even then, I will fight."<br/><br/>Udo turned his attention away to briefly look out the window, “Officer Wojcik, can you feel it… how dirty Munich is? It isn’t very pleasant.”<br/><br/>Her eyes lifted to the same window, ordinary people crossing streets carefully.  They helped each other in small packs.  Like rats.  It was very unpleasant to see such filth striding in the sunlight of the Father's halo with such little regard to their Lord.  She felt the sneer pick up her lip and grind her teeth as she answered.  "Yes."<br/><br/>His gaze returned to her.  The look there was clear: a mission to clean the streets of the grossly abundant vermin writhing in their burrows of gold and sin and restore righteousness to the earth.  It would/start in Germany, in cities like this one, in Munich.  It had already started and it would spread across nations, oceans, languages, and time, remembered.  The Holy Cause.  It would start with them.  The soldiers of the Lord, working through His disciple in<span style="font-style: italic">herr</span>Hitler and the army he'd gathered of the faithful, the loyal, the righteous.  The Holy Cause would be responsible for the saving of millions of lives, and for this it would be known forever.<br/><br/>Yvonne nodded her acknowledgment to him.  "If you are staying a while, I may call on you.  For the cleansing of the city." It came out like a question, though she knew the answer, and she added the second part, not out of forgetfulness or clarity, but for emphasis.<br/><br/>"I am staying at the Charles Hotel," he told her without hesitation, "It's not far from here.  Room 419.  Should you call on me to serve for the cause, it would be a pleasure."<br/><br/>Maybe the shiver she saw wasn't up his back, but her own.  Again, she nodded and moved away from the table, heading back toward the seat being saved for her at another.  A sort of peace fell on her to know there were others out there, working toward the cause with as much diligence as she had, and that she, in short, had an ally.  She wasn't entirely sure on the man, but she did not expect much to be out of place with someone so earnest, and she would not think ill of him without cause, not when a short investigation could clear him.  She would deal with that later.  Now she had other business to attend to.<br/><br/>"Father," she tipped her head in hello.  "Thank you for your patience."<br/><br/>"Not at all," he told her.  "It is a virtue, isn't it?"<br/><br/>She couldn't tell if she smiled or not when she looked on the man.  He was so much less intimidating in front of her now, but there was still something there, in his air, in his posture, in the glow of the sun reflecting off the snow outside.  No, it wasn't the snow, it was him.  There was more than just the man to him, and she knew that he was a messenger of God, more than just His priest, but someone or something more active, more involved, more... just more.<br/><br/>The transition from earthly matters to something "more" was disorienting, but Yvonne could handle it.  Yvonne.  That's not what he had called her, was it?  No he'd called her something she'd near but forgotten.  It had been years, since her mothers passing, that she heard it's utterance.<br/><br/>The woman, whose hair was longer than her torso, hung loose all around in unforgiving knots as she laid upon the bed.  Weariness was apparent on her very form and it extended to the crumpling of the thin blanket in her once-fisted hands, long fingers now wrapped absently like a ghost, pale and bony.  Sweat glistened cold around a face that looked serene despite the weariness.  Soft lips were dry, soft cheeks were gaunt, soft eyes were unfocused.  The stone walls were hard and exaggerated her softness while the simple bedding complete with a single, flat pillow emphasized the beauty of a creature that was so lost upon the world.  It wasn't in her face or shape where the world looked, whether they found it there or not, but within, where her soul resided, pure and untouched by the worlds sin.<br/><br/>Innocence exemplified kneeled at her side, small, chubby, youthfully pink hands in stark contrast to the one she held.  It was tight and desperate and strong, not a bit at ease in the stillness.  Golden hair glowed despite the darkness of the room.  It hung loose, covering the face like a curtain, but not the tears that fell past them to darken the sheet below in perfect circles, slowly growing larger as each drop landed in exactly the same place.  The girl did not move any more when others walked through to open the windows.  She did not budge as the priests performed the rites.  The innocent was no longer.<br/><br/>She did not falter her prayer for one second as she promised vengeance to the Lord on those who had taken his pride from the world, spreading their illnesses to the undeserved.  She told Him she understood He needed her mother with Him in heaven, that she would serve her purpose with graciousness and gratitude and praise Him infinitely, greeting His children into her arms and carrying them to Him.  She could share.  She was a good girl.  She asked that he be patient, that sometimes her mother would miss her, but all He had to do was show her, show her what good her daughter did in His name, and she would be okay.  Her mother would be proud of her.  And the first thing she would do would be to stop the evil of this plague, the one that sent her earthly mother to her heavenly Father, by sending all those who infected it upon others to a place he would not have to see them.<br/><br/>She knew better now.  God was everywhere, including Hell.  He was looking upon the heathens with shame and committing them to His holy wrath unlike any could possibly know.  It should relieve her to know Justice was served, but she was just as disappointed as ever that the sinners could not be redeemed, that she had done what was necessary, but it had been her mothers wish to save them, so Yvonne had failed her.  Only she hadn't been known as Yvonne at the time.<br/><br/>"How do you know my Name," she asked, "Father?"