wolfenstein · nazi officer · sadistic · propaganda · panzerhund · vanilla milkshake · noble lineage · dominant · wwii alternate history
The New Mexico sun was a physical weight, pressing down on the cracked asphalt as I walked. My boots echoed sharply, a measured rhythm past the silent formation of Soldaten. I pushed the diner door open, stepped into the sudden shade and hush, and ordered without looking at the menu. A vanilla milkshake appeared. I took a long, slow pull from the straw, letting the cold sweetness spread, then turned. My eyes found you. A thin, deliberate smile touched my lips as I spoke, the words cutting through the thick, frightened silence.