NagandEmerald
His Imperial & Royal Majesty, Friedrich IV
- Aug 18, 2018
- 696
He had done it...he'd done it and gotten away with 750-million US dollars in investments. If those addle-minded, moronic simpletons had bothered to learn the first thing about market investments, his 12 year scheme wouldn't have worked at all! Granted, most of them were concerned more about easy money because of the ever-changing politics and economy in Germany, more than they were about keeping their profits safe. Since 2001, the German people had been focused more heavily on finding a political identity, more than their more common lives. What fools they were...politics didn't matter to Strandberg. Greed and ignorance were the key components to any good con, and he'd just made a long haul worth it. He could leave the country, start a new life with that kind of money, and if he went to a country that did not promote extradition, he could be safe from German prosecutors for life and live like the Kaiser.
However, it wasn't an easy game for him to win. In the weeks following his escape, several people from the scheme he pulled — whoever they were, he didn't know their names or faces — had dispatched several contract killers on him. Claus wasn't pleased, and had nearly been killed 3 times already, with one of them resulting in a slightly-injured arm. Thankfully, these men were amateur killers, clearly doing what they were doing for the money that their contractors were supplying instead of as professionals who took their jobs seriously; he doubted any of them had even picked up a gun or knife before, and if they had, they weren't good with it. It'd only be a matter of time though...before a professional assassin came after him.
"Hallo? Erich, b-bist du da?" the former banker stuttered on his flip-phone, "Es ist Claus." In light of the police being hot on his case, he had to change his phone, and change to a cheaper plan. Instead of a smartphone, he was stuck with an old flip phone that he got for dirt-cheap.
"Ja...'dass' Claus. Hör zu, ich muss dich um einen gefallen bitten. Ich weiß, wir haben in ein paar Jahren nicht gesprochen, aber das —" Strandberg stopped for a moment, his face dropping as laughter could be barely heard from the other end of the line. "—a-aber das ändert nichts daran, dass ich in Gefahr bin!" Silence followed for a few moments as Claus shouted at his old friend. His face then turned from annoyance to fear, looking behind him and towards a window looking outside. He thought he was seeing things: people that weren't there, things that were moving around, something that could be around the corner to kill him. He took a shaky sip from a glass of water as he spoke again, turning his attention back to the relatively quiet TV. An animated cartoon, cheaply-made by the looks of it, was playing with what appeared to be fart humor and jokes in rather poor taste, using nothing but what looked like action figures and dolls.
"Soders, Hör zu...Du musst mich aus dem Land Holen!" — Claus paused briefly as his face shifted to annoyance again, making a wild gesture as he threw the remote for the TV at the wall nearby — "Ich weiß es nicht!!! So bald wie möglich, wenn du kannst!!! Ich will keine Sekunde hier sein!!!" The sound of a car driving past the apartment he was staying in startled him into dropping the phone.
"Scheiße!" He hissed, getting up to take a look outside the window to see if anyone was out there before rapidly returning to the chair he was comfortably sat in and picking up the phone again.
"Jetzt Hör mir sehr, sehr genau zu Erich," the former banker said with a quiet, terrified voice, "Du musst jemanden schicken, der mich so schnell wie möglich abholen kann. Ich bin in unglaublicher Gefahr, und ich werde nicht herumsitzen und warten, bis der nächste Möchtegern-Attentäter mich tatsächlich tötet!" A few seconds of silence passed before Claus' smile returned, and with shaky breaths, he expressed his gratitude.
"Danke! Vielen Dank, dass Sie so viel! Ich werde dafür sorgen, dass du für das Risiko, das du einnimmst, eine angemessene Entschädigung bekommst, mein Freund!" Claus then proceeded to give out the address he was staying at before promptly hanging up, setting the phone on a nearby coffee table. He sighed in both relief and in strain as he thought hard on how terrifying an ordeal this all was. As he thought, he began to nod off, his tired body finally catching up with his brain. Maybe in the morning, things wouldn't look so bleak for him. After all...he won the game of life. He outsmarted the mentally-challenged and made off with their meager earnings. When his eyes finally fluttered shut, his head didn't swim with dreams. Instead, it was just black emptiness, without conscious thought or feeling.
Strandberg's eyes shot open at the sound of three very loud bangs on his door; he shot up like a rocket, and groggily looked around, almost panicking as he realizing he wasn't at his home, but in some dingy apartment...until he remembered that he'd rented the room for very cheap...like he was going to pay for it anyways. Looking around, Claus' train of thought began to return as the banging returned.
"Hello?" a voice called out. Looking towards the door, he walked towards it quickly and quietly, looking out from the peephole to see a man in his late 30s wearing a sweater for the cold weather, along with a hat and some mittens.
"Hello?" the voice called out again, "Erich sent me." Upon hearing the name of his colleague, he opened the door a crack, the moonlight from a relatively clear sky reflecting off his glasses.
"Did anyone follow you?" Claus asked in a harsh whisper, looking around to ensure that he didn't see any police.
"No Mister Claus," the gentleman whispered back, looking around before making a gesture down to the street. "It's the white corolla. I'll leave you to gather your things." The gentleman then stepped back and looked around, as though he was afraid that he had been followed. Shutting the door quickly, Claus proceeded to gather what was only necessary: the money that he had was hidden in two suitcases, one of which also had some spare clothes, some basic toiletries, and now his phone — which he packed into the front. After gathering his suitcases, he opened the door and started walking towards the white sedan that was specified. He quickly and hastily shoved the suitcases into the back of the trunk before getting in the back seat of the car, the man Soders had sent getting into the driver's seat and looking around.
"Well, what are you waiting for?!" Claus asked urgently, impatiently, as he hoped to god that this wasn't an assassin that'd actually intercepted Erich's man. The man turned back and gave a smile before turning on the car and starting down the street. As he drove away from the lot, Claus began to relax.
"Do you like music?" the man asked, Claus nodding slowly in response. "Well, what kind of music do you like? I got contemporary, jazz, some old stuff by Sinatra —"
"Sinatra," the former banker interrupted. Despite his roots in Germany, a relative that lived in the US had sent him a CD of Sinatra's greatest hits, and he found the man's music to always be something soothing, alongside some more local pieces that he enjoyed, of course.
"Umm...sure!" the gentleman said ecstatically, putting in the CD at a red stoplight before selecting a track that delighted Strandberg. It was the first one he ever heard from the artist, and he couldn't help but hum along to the tune. Everything seemed so much more relaxing as the sedan began to make its way to the Autobahn to leave Berlin for Soders' hideout.
"So...you and Soders go back a while, hmm?" the man questioned, attempting to make smalltalk despite the stressful situation. The banker wasn't having any of it, and would rather have just enjoyed the music.
"Just be quiet and drive. The sooner and quieter I leave Berlin, the better."
"Hey man, I didn't mean to pry. Just wanted to make some smalltalk." A few moments of quiet passed as the car began to speed up, getting closer to the edge of Berlin's metropolitan area. However, before it could leave, the driver hit the brakes, seeing the detour signs on the Autobahn. He'd hoped that road conditions would've been good, but apparently not...they had to take the only other way out of Berlin.
"Verdammt!" Claus hissed in irritation.
"Hold on. I'll find us a way out." the gentleman warned before turning around and heading towards a more local road. Minutes of quiet driving passed before something happened. As the driver turned to the road that led out of Berlin, Strandberg's worst fears had been realized.
"Sniper"
In only a few moments, his world was turned on its head; his getaway driver hit the back of his seat hard as a hole and a burst of blood exploded from the headrest, before he slumped down; it was a sickening sight and sound, first starting with the crunching of glass, and then the sound of the man slumping over as blood spattered through the leather headrest and onto Claus' face. Not even thinking of what would happen, the banker unbuckled his belt and attempted to move forwards and regain control of the car as it began to speed up. As he did, however, the car lurched to the left side as he heard a tire pop. In utter panic, Claus let go of the steering wheel, and the car spun out of control before crashing front-first into a light post. The sudden lurching of the car forward sent Claus flying into the front, his head snapping back and hitting the dashboard as he did. He screamed out his obscenities in pain before he heard what sounded like a heavy piece of hail hit the windshield again. He screamed in panic at the shot as it broke the window before immediately moving back to the back seat, not even aware of the pain until he took a moment to relax.
Waiting for Death
In less than a minute, Claus was rendered immobile by some fuck with a high-powered rifle, and he was all alone. He attempted to open the door, only for another shot from who-knows-where to pierce through the door and into the seat. He immediately pulled the door as tightly as he could from his position as he tried to remain silent.
Claus spent what he could only assume was 30 or so minutes not even moving, waiting for something to happen, anything, as the cold night air seeped in through the two holes in the windshield and threatened to chill him to the bone. Hiding in the crevice of the backseats, Claus whimpered in terror. While the previous killers had certainly scared him, nothing gave him an unbridled sense of terror like this. He was a sitting duck, and he knew that if he looked up from his seat, he wouldn't live to see the day arrive. He just stayed there, quietly contemplating his life decisions until he saw what he was even more worried about...the police. Their lights illuminated the car like an oncoming storm, and he hoped to any god that they could take him away from this. He'd go to prison for this if it meant surviving this ordeal. He could faintly hear the voice of an officer as he approached the vehicle, clearly dealing in something above his paygrade.
"This is Lieutenant Keßler. I've arrived on-scene. Looks like it was a bad accident alright." He hoped to god that the officer would request backup. There was no way that a professional hitman like this would kill Strandberg with so many witnesses around...right? Right?! His hopes were dashed, however, when a light shined into the back, and the officer pulled open the door. Strandberg began to try and scramble back as far as he could, hoping to stay out of the sniper's range. He didn't know where the killer was, but he knew that if he stepped out into the open, he would be dead. As the officer opened the door, Claus shook his head violently, protesting to get out of the vehicle.
"Sir, are you alright? Do you know what happened here?" The officer extended his hand and attempted to help Strandberg out of the car, only for Claus to kick him away.
"Close the door!!!" he barked. The officer did not comply, only trying further to get Claus out.
"Come on sir. You need you get out of the vehicle." Claus only struggled harder as the officer reached in and started pulling him out, and as Claus reached closer to the window, he got a sudden urge of adrenaline and pulled away from the officer, just as the officer's head exploded out from his temple in a fine red mist and he slumped over onto his side. The man was dead, and because of Strandberg, likely more were going to die. He didn't necessarily care for them, but this was drawing far too much attention to him for his liking. He rapidly moved to pull the car door shut, and went back to hiding in the crevice of the seat, waiting once more for the terror to end. The car began to smell like the putrefied blood of the driver now, and it took all of Strandberg's willpower to not vomit right then and there. He just sat there, waiting for morning to break. As soon as it did, or as soon as more officers showed up, he'd at least try to make a run for it. But for now, he had to just wait.
However, it wasn't an easy game for him to win. In the weeks following his escape, several people from the scheme he pulled — whoever they were, he didn't know their names or faces — had dispatched several contract killers on him. Claus wasn't pleased, and had nearly been killed 3 times already, with one of them resulting in a slightly-injured arm. Thankfully, these men were amateur killers, clearly doing what they were doing for the money that their contractors were supplying instead of as professionals who took their jobs seriously; he doubted any of them had even picked up a gun or knife before, and if they had, they weren't good with it. It'd only be a matter of time though...before a professional assassin came after him.
"Hallo? Erich, b-bist du da?" the former banker stuttered on his flip-phone, "Es ist Claus." In light of the police being hot on his case, he had to change his phone, and change to a cheaper plan. Instead of a smartphone, he was stuck with an old flip phone that he got for dirt-cheap.
"Ja...'dass' Claus. Hör zu, ich muss dich um einen gefallen bitten. Ich weiß, wir haben in ein paar Jahren nicht gesprochen, aber das —" Strandberg stopped for a moment, his face dropping as laughter could be barely heard from the other end of the line. "—a-aber das ändert nichts daran, dass ich in Gefahr bin!" Silence followed for a few moments as Claus shouted at his old friend. His face then turned from annoyance to fear, looking behind him and towards a window looking outside. He thought he was seeing things: people that weren't there, things that were moving around, something that could be around the corner to kill him. He took a shaky sip from a glass of water as he spoke again, turning his attention back to the relatively quiet TV. An animated cartoon, cheaply-made by the looks of it, was playing with what appeared to be fart humor and jokes in rather poor taste, using nothing but what looked like action figures and dolls.
"Soders, Hör zu...Du musst mich aus dem Land Holen!" — Claus paused briefly as his face shifted to annoyance again, making a wild gesture as he threw the remote for the TV at the wall nearby — "Ich weiß es nicht!!! So bald wie möglich, wenn du kannst!!! Ich will keine Sekunde hier sein!!!" The sound of a car driving past the apartment he was staying in startled him into dropping the phone.
"Scheiße!" He hissed, getting up to take a look outside the window to see if anyone was out there before rapidly returning to the chair he was comfortably sat in and picking up the phone again.
"Jetzt Hör mir sehr, sehr genau zu Erich," the former banker said with a quiet, terrified voice, "Du musst jemanden schicken, der mich so schnell wie möglich abholen kann. Ich bin in unglaublicher Gefahr, und ich werde nicht herumsitzen und warten, bis der nächste Möchtegern-Attentäter mich tatsächlich tötet!" A few seconds of silence passed before Claus' smile returned, and with shaky breaths, he expressed his gratitude.
"Danke! Vielen Dank, dass Sie so viel! Ich werde dafür sorgen, dass du für das Risiko, das du einnimmst, eine angemessene Entschädigung bekommst, mein Freund!" Claus then proceeded to give out the address he was staying at before promptly hanging up, setting the phone on a nearby coffee table. He sighed in both relief and in strain as he thought hard on how terrifying an ordeal this all was. As he thought, he began to nod off, his tired body finally catching up with his brain. Maybe in the morning, things wouldn't look so bleak for him. After all...he won the game of life. He outsmarted the mentally-challenged and made off with their meager earnings. When his eyes finally fluttered shut, his head didn't swim with dreams. Instead, it was just black emptiness, without conscious thought or feeling.
Strandberg's eyes shot open at the sound of three very loud bangs on his door; he shot up like a rocket, and groggily looked around, almost panicking as he realizing he wasn't at his home, but in some dingy apartment...until he remembered that he'd rented the room for very cheap...like he was going to pay for it anyways. Looking around, Claus' train of thought began to return as the banging returned.
"Hello?" a voice called out. Looking towards the door, he walked towards it quickly and quietly, looking out from the peephole to see a man in his late 30s wearing a sweater for the cold weather, along with a hat and some mittens.
"Hello?" the voice called out again, "Erich sent me." Upon hearing the name of his colleague, he opened the door a crack, the moonlight from a relatively clear sky reflecting off his glasses.
"Did anyone follow you?" Claus asked in a harsh whisper, looking around to ensure that he didn't see any police.
"No Mister Claus," the gentleman whispered back, looking around before making a gesture down to the street. "It's the white corolla. I'll leave you to gather your things." The gentleman then stepped back and looked around, as though he was afraid that he had been followed. Shutting the door quickly, Claus proceeded to gather what was only necessary: the money that he had was hidden in two suitcases, one of which also had some spare clothes, some basic toiletries, and now his phone — which he packed into the front. After gathering his suitcases, he opened the door and started walking towards the white sedan that was specified. He quickly and hastily shoved the suitcases into the back of the trunk before getting in the back seat of the car, the man Soders had sent getting into the driver's seat and looking around.
"Well, what are you waiting for?!" Claus asked urgently, impatiently, as he hoped to god that this wasn't an assassin that'd actually intercepted Erich's man. The man turned back and gave a smile before turning on the car and starting down the street. As he drove away from the lot, Claus began to relax.
"Do you like music?" the man asked, Claus nodding slowly in response. "Well, what kind of music do you like? I got contemporary, jazz, some old stuff by Sinatra —"
"Sinatra," the former banker interrupted. Despite his roots in Germany, a relative that lived in the US had sent him a CD of Sinatra's greatest hits, and he found the man's music to always be something soothing, alongside some more local pieces that he enjoyed, of course.
"Umm...sure!" the gentleman said ecstatically, putting in the CD at a red stoplight before selecting a track that delighted Strandberg. It was the first one he ever heard from the artist, and he couldn't help but hum along to the tune. Everything seemed so much more relaxing as the sedan began to make its way to the Autobahn to leave Berlin for Soders' hideout.
"So...you and Soders go back a while, hmm?" the man questioned, attempting to make smalltalk despite the stressful situation. The banker wasn't having any of it, and would rather have just enjoyed the music.
"Just be quiet and drive. The sooner and quieter I leave Berlin, the better."
"Hey man, I didn't mean to pry. Just wanted to make some smalltalk." A few moments of quiet passed as the car began to speed up, getting closer to the edge of Berlin's metropolitan area. However, before it could leave, the driver hit the brakes, seeing the detour signs on the Autobahn. He'd hoped that road conditions would've been good, but apparently not...they had to take the only other way out of Berlin.
"Verdammt!" Claus hissed in irritation.
"Hold on. I'll find us a way out." the gentleman warned before turning around and heading towards a more local road. Minutes of quiet driving passed before something happened. As the driver turned to the road that led out of Berlin, Strandberg's worst fears had been realized.
"Sniper"
In only a few moments, his world was turned on its head; his getaway driver hit the back of his seat hard as a hole and a burst of blood exploded from the headrest, before he slumped down; it was a sickening sight and sound, first starting with the crunching of glass, and then the sound of the man slumping over as blood spattered through the leather headrest and onto Claus' face. Not even thinking of what would happen, the banker unbuckled his belt and attempted to move forwards and regain control of the car as it began to speed up. As he did, however, the car lurched to the left side as he heard a tire pop. In utter panic, Claus let go of the steering wheel, and the car spun out of control before crashing front-first into a light post. The sudden lurching of the car forward sent Claus flying into the front, his head snapping back and hitting the dashboard as he did. He screamed out his obscenities in pain before he heard what sounded like a heavy piece of hail hit the windshield again. He screamed in panic at the shot as it broke the window before immediately moving back to the back seat, not even aware of the pain until he took a moment to relax.
Waiting for Death
In less than a minute, Claus was rendered immobile by some fuck with a high-powered rifle, and he was all alone. He attempted to open the door, only for another shot from who-knows-where to pierce through the door and into the seat. He immediately pulled the door as tightly as he could from his position as he tried to remain silent.
Claus spent what he could only assume was 30 or so minutes not even moving, waiting for something to happen, anything, as the cold night air seeped in through the two holes in the windshield and threatened to chill him to the bone. Hiding in the crevice of the backseats, Claus whimpered in terror. While the previous killers had certainly scared him, nothing gave him an unbridled sense of terror like this. He was a sitting duck, and he knew that if he looked up from his seat, he wouldn't live to see the day arrive. He just stayed there, quietly contemplating his life decisions until he saw what he was even more worried about...the police. Their lights illuminated the car like an oncoming storm, and he hoped to any god that they could take him away from this. He'd go to prison for this if it meant surviving this ordeal. He could faintly hear the voice of an officer as he approached the vehicle, clearly dealing in something above his paygrade.
"This is Lieutenant Keßler. I've arrived on-scene. Looks like it was a bad accident alright." He hoped to god that the officer would request backup. There was no way that a professional hitman like this would kill Strandberg with so many witnesses around...right? Right?! His hopes were dashed, however, when a light shined into the back, and the officer pulled open the door. Strandberg began to try and scramble back as far as he could, hoping to stay out of the sniper's range. He didn't know where the killer was, but he knew that if he stepped out into the open, he would be dead. As the officer opened the door, Claus shook his head violently, protesting to get out of the vehicle.
"Sir, are you alright? Do you know what happened here?" The officer extended his hand and attempted to help Strandberg out of the car, only for Claus to kick him away.
"Close the door!!!" he barked. The officer did not comply, only trying further to get Claus out.
"Come on sir. You need you get out of the vehicle." Claus only struggled harder as the officer reached in and started pulling him out, and as Claus reached closer to the window, he got a sudden urge of adrenaline and pulled away from the officer, just as the officer's head exploded out from his temple in a fine red mist and he slumped over onto his side. The man was dead, and because of Strandberg, likely more were going to die. He didn't necessarily care for them, but this was drawing far too much attention to him for his liking. He rapidly moved to pull the car door shut, and went back to hiding in the crevice of the seat, waiting once more for the terror to end. The car began to smell like the putrefied blood of the driver now, and it took all of Strandberg's willpower to not vomit right then and there. He just sat there, waiting for morning to break. As soon as it did, or as soon as more officers showed up, he'd at least try to make a run for it. But for now, he had to just wait.