- Heinrich Wilhelm Schultz, The Cleanser.
The Serpent, a reptile of intellect and utter intelligence, whose bite is significant and worthy of a praise, for it does not halt its own stampede once it has latched on to its variable host. Its poison harbors the toxins of an elegance that deprives its subject of life, of the essence to hold within the desires and longings of passion and fervency. Hold not its rattling, constant rebounding, nor its fangs and talons of oppression, nor its defined and riveted textures of delight and delicacies. Once it grasps your soul, it does not remove itself from the victim.
Fear The Serpent, loathe it, esteem it, treasure its sins and demands.
Fear not its bite, fear not its strength, fear not its camouflage, fear not its boundaries.
Abstain yourself from its commands.
Never let yourself be perceived by its Spheroids of Slits.
Comprehend that no Tree of Malevolence or Benevolence shall ever surpass that of The Serpent between its branches.
Consume its venom, drink its nectar of comprehension, savor its teeth, never dispose of its carcass.
Favor its agility, its demeanor, its astounding negligence before fright.
Accept and welcome the arrival of its beloved instinct.
Heinrich's spirit animal is that of a snake. A snake is the representation of the Devil in the Bible, a reptile capable of strangulation and poisonous bites; these reptiles, in general, consider themselves to be incredibly superior to other beasts because of how selective they can be when it comes to engagements. Given how intelligent they are, they often outsmart their foes, even when outmatched.
Heinrich plays by these rules. He analyzes, devises a plan and then strikes at his target's weaknesses.
There existed a Pacifist, a melancholic individual,
A Man of Gentility, whose Echoes of Remorse bestowed him of a Burden.
He had persisted in Wars of F utilities, in Wagers of Conflicts, in Benevolences of Malevolences,
For he had been whispered, by such a damsel, of a rigorous benefit, yet so, after a Period,
No man could ever recognize his own Tyranny.
A G E N T L E M A N O F T H O U G H T
To think was to ponder, yet to ponder was to analyze. It was a surreal manifestation of incomprehensible attitudes, the life of a human being that went by the accordance of the name of Heinrich. He was weak-minded, ill-minded, corrupted, yet also superficially wounded as a figure of exemplification. No man could cope with a mind like his own, nor could a female envisage herself within his orbs for even the merest of seconds. He thought of what others had regarded as the unthinkable, as the imponderable, as enigmas embedded and intertwined with each other, awaiting the examination of one who had ventured from the depths of an unknown crevice situated between malignancy and benevolence. It was a carefully stitched wound, that of his mother, a memory long-forgotten, grasped as remembrance only in circumstances that allowed it.
What came next, was only the arrival of Hell.
N O P E A C E.
If one thought, one could profess a truth when there was none! If one thought, one could participate in the bewilderment of others! If one thought, if Heinrich Schultz thought, one could potentially infect the wound that he had concealed from sight! Alas, there was no thought, no analysis, no credible hypothesis, not a singular sign of a conclusion, for the man that thought was none other than a devil flustered by the presence of others. A hand twitched, a lip was smeared of crimson, a lie was issued, and so the intentions of the man of thought were informed to the public.
All this blubber and the confusion persists
in the abstraction that is the mind.
He was a disaster, a chaotic outcome with no resolution, a spiraling flame that ended in no submissive gust. The incongruity was ravenous and ferocious, but so was the ambience that had surrounded him. It had all led to this very moment of change, of passion, of adjustment, of maturity, a moment he had not forgotten in the lands that he had coursed throughout the entirety of his life.
He had screamed mother!
However, no mother had replied!
For he had no biology!
But only tragedy.
A P P A R E L & A C C E N T U A T I O N S
In times of reconciliation and harmony, Heinrich possessed the casual, yet also superficially sophisticated, elegant attire of the contemporary epoch. Fashionably tailored and presented, most of his shirts and top-section, upper-body clothing shall have the characteristic, yet also very distinctive, color of the immaculate white, of the reflective pearl that gleams at the gentle caress of the radiance that perceptibly surrounds and embraces it with tantalizing atmospheres and ambiance. They had been of long-sleeves, decorated by the centralized buttons to tighten and adjust the shirt correspondingly, made out of an expensive textile or fabric especially designed for Heinrich’s own comfort and sooth. His lower-body, under-section clothing had been simple, efficient and enduring pairs of working, obscure or patterned pants with suspenders attached onto their superior, principal edge so that they did not face the possibility of ever falling in his treading.
A G E N T L E M A N O F T A L E N T S
A Professional Hitman
Taught at an early age, by the years of five, Heinrich was taught, everyday, by his grandfather, the art of the pianist, an art unforgettable by those who truly appreciate the touch of a man's fingers over that of a soft and illustrated key, or note, whose filaments are stronger as they vibrate and reverberate with ease. Each day, each week, week month, each year, Heinrich was continuously probed with the knowledge of a pianist, until he had managed to compose an already composed piece of art, all by himself, in the quarters of the farmhouse, in the livingroom, next to his grandparents. There had been days where only he would play for himself, for the instrument beckoned him to touch her, to touch her beautiful, softened keys of ecstasy and pleasure. It hadn't taken him nothing to accustom himself to the beauty of her caress.
As other talents came, the desire for the piano slowly went in a decline, but it never faded. Another art surged, being that of the illustrations, of the capability of holding a pencil and drawing over a canvas with a diverse and numerous selection of colorations, varying from all the crimsons, to all the greeneries, to all the sapphires, to all the blacks and the immaculate. But, for Heinrich, the only colors that he saw were the black and the white, and none more, for his grandmother had whispered into his ears:
Therefore, Heinrich only paints abstracts of what he visualizes, as well as portraits, landscapes and, preferably, when with an age, women without their dresses or coverings. It was all for the art, for the passion within the boy, the teenager, the mild adult, for him, for Heinrich, and none else.
But, as time passed, and the grandparents were no longer, he withdrew from all these pleasures and dedicated himself to the study of himself, and of other subjects which guided him to the understanding of life, of itself, and of the unknown, of such a knowledge that only few understood and comprehended. Heinrich became a ponderer, a philosopher of the mentality of others, one who corrupted others with the simple use of mind-play, a tactician's tool for destruction and pleasure.
Yet, as he also destroyed minds, he also inserted projectiles into the bodies of others for the mere sensation of a gratification. He was a personal killer, one that sought the blood of others, the vile blood of the living. He only utilizes the Luger for close engagements, or that of a long-range rifle, his customized Kar-98K. Not a single thought is given to the kill, for the kill draws the blood, and the killer produces it, willingly, without the everlasting consequences of the death.
A N A V I D P R O F E S S I O N A L K I L L E R
"It was a dependence upon a me,
A characteristic poison that slithered along my lips,
One that I could not ever deny of its existence, no matter the circumstance."
"I was not evil, I had not been corrupted, I had only started to release the world,
To release the world of its own vile nepotism, of its sources of malfeasance."
"Mistake me not for a criminal, but for a vigilante, a male of self-respect that values the lives of the innocent, of the credible, of those that hold truth by their hearts, by their vivid consideration of benevolence."
"There had been a longing... a longing for blood."
After the completion of the confrontation between countries and men, Heinrich, designated now as Matthaeus to evade the persecution of the Nazi's and the Trials of Nuremburg, educated himself properly with the art of death. The desire that possessed the gentleman surged due to his views on the wretched society of individuals that surrounded him at every given interval of time.
Each day, after securing himself in the United States of America, he vigorously trained himself with the mentality of terminating every soul that was impure and vile to his Spheres. As time progressed and pass by, he grew exponentially stronger, agile, dexterous and swift with the art, proving to be a quite difficult individual to take down if opposed by another. Due to his dedication, he strengthened his muscles, his physique and his mind as well, growing severely mature and tactful with the years.
Recently, there was a change, an alteration, a modification that ended up, for his good, introducing him to another talent, the ease of removing from the phases of the Earth the species of Vampires. This, of course, was taught only by the majestic and ironically coincidental Vampire, Ekaterina Vakhrov, a good ally of Heinrich that he met in the 1950's in Italy as he was hiding by himself. Because of her, he obtained the knowledge necessary to eliminate her own kind, with ease, with no difficulty at all. On the other hand, the male has not applied his skills in the field with any possible vampire victim. He is, however, tracking one down.
T H E C O D E
Like most killers, Heinrich has a code that he follows when he is either about to justify the torture or death of an individual in his grasp. These are the following principles:
- 1st Rule of the Code: Never get caught. Heinrich must never be caught committing a crime that would result in his imprisonment or imminent death. In scenarios where an innocent being (refer to the 2nd Rule) discovers Heinrich's doings, he may seen forced to kill he or she in order to conceal his identity.
- 2nd Rule of the Code: Never kill an Innocent. Heinrich must be absolutely certain that the target has committed a profound sin, who either takes life for no condonable reason, adulterates, steals or covets the possession of others. Heinrich heavily follows the Ten Commandments in Exodus 20:2-17.
- 3rd Rule of the Code: Targets must be killers, thieves, adulterates, etc., who have evaded the justice system, although this rule is often disregarded by Heinrich.
- 4th Rule of the Code: Killing must serve a purpose, otherwise, it's just plain murder. (Refer to 2nd Rule)
- 5th Rule of the Code: Fake emotions and normality when at all possible.
- 6th Rule of the Code: Be prepared. Leave no evidence of your torture sessions or murder.
- 7th Rule of the Code: Stay calm and collected. Do not ever panic. There is always a solution.
- 8th Rule of the Code: Don't make things personal because it clouds judgment. (Refer to 5th Rule)
- 9th Rule of the Code: Use women for your own benefit. Do not let yourself be blinded by them.
T H E M O D U S O P E R A N D I
Like most killers, Heinrich has a technique or an M.O that identifies him. His methods revolve mainly around torture, stealth and the usage of speech. When his targets are caught in the web of distraction and destruction, he moves onto other staunch practices of the craft, which only concern executions and the disposal of the body; at times, he mutilates the bodies to his taste and preference. Up next is a list of his technique:
- 1st Technique: He will always involve religion in his killing and will force the victim to familiriaze themselves with his religion.
- 2nd Technique: Knives will always come to the equation; the victim will either be sliced or stabbed, either to death or to a state of incredible injury.
- 3rd Technique: If the victim were to be a male, he will be shot to death after strenous, agonozing torture. If a female, the woman shall be raped, tortured and then bled to death, usually by a stab wound.
- 4th Technique: Heinrich utilizes medieval torture devices to have his victims suffer.
- 5th Technique: Heinrich utilizes piano music during his torture sessions to appease his masochistic tendencies. If he weren't to listen to piano compositions, he'd lose it quicker than the usual and the victim would likely die a more painful death.
- 6th Technique: An adaption of mockery -- he has gotten used to leaving Ace of Spades on the bodies of his victims with a fake signature of his.
A L U R E F O R
They did not understand. Everyone did not understand. One could never understand . . . the motive, the reasoning, the logical process, and none would ever, for it was an enigma hidden within a mind unbreakable by humanity.
Heinrich, or Matthaeus, was, and is, a man of a perfect conduct, with only a mentality for women, and never for men. He is a gentleman before all, and this is, gentlemen and women, the lure for. The man allows a gentility to overcome the woman, her knowledge, her passiveness, her personality, and it latches onto it, vividly, in a synchronization of ardor. A conversation is then ensued, a theme is provoked, eyes are locked, virtues are broken, and fornication is then committed. But, you will never understand, nor will you attempt to, for you will be found dead if you corrupt yourself with the ideals of a paradox. Meanwhile he fornicates and cleanses the world of its impurities, Heinrich becomes a paradox himself, a contradiction that lives on and perpetuates itself for all eternity in the void world of nothingness.
You see, but you do not perceive.
Once done, it all commences again. He achieves the knowledge, the learning, the education, the significance of a life, and debauches it. You would not understand how it functions, nor how it operates on its own. It is a mystery, you see, but you don't see. Do you visualize the lure in front of you? Do you acknowledge the gentility that has been put at your front? He will destroy you, he will annihilate you, and he will quench his thirst once it all comes down to one thing: you. You will not see the light of day, the darkness of night, nor the twilight of both, nor the eclipses of nature, nor the perch of a bird, nor the growl of a leopard,... only the hiss of the serpent. Beware, beware, for he who does not fathom the desire of the gentlemen is one known to trigger his own downfall.
Mr. Eves and Mrs. Eves.
The Incestuous Twins.
The Couple of Intelligence
Evelynne Gwen Eves
Homo-chromatic hues, a sphere of brown, a sphere of blue.
The age of a dreadful female, the thirty's.
Golden mane of elongated filaments.
Creamy dermis of innocence.
'When one observes her eyes, one swears upon;
they're innocence, they're hatred,
they're a mixture of irresolute outcomes.'
Anthony Howards Eves
A normal vision, yet a worsened perception of an ear.
The age of a dreadful male, the thirty's.
Golden mane of shortened filaments.
Creamy dermis of innocence.
'He listens, he listens carefully, but never too cautious,
for he's a listener of an ear, yet a silencer of another;
They're a mystery.
It was a brief call, a connection of telephones that set a line between Heinrich and them, The Eves. It had been unexpected.
Heinrich belonged with them, so they thought, when he had emphasized the contrary.
B U N D E S W E H R
Unified Armed Forces of Germany
He was in Afghanistan from 2001 to 2014, in the war of Bosnia in 1995, in the war of Kosovo from 1998 to 1999 and, finally, the most current war, the war on ISIL ( Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant), where his current service is based upon in any present-time role-play. His friends also serve along him in his very own squad, making up a total of five men, including him.
With that settled aside, moving onto the details, Heinrich is a
Principal Lieutenant, or simply an Oberleutnant in German. His rank dictates his ability to command those below him and the amount of experience he possesses. He is very well trained, very well disciplined and very well instructed, which translates into how deadly the man really is in a situation of intense combat and stress over the body.
The standard Bundeswehr soldier has an arsenal of the following items: Heckler & Koch USP Tactical P12 Pistol, all known variants of the H&K G36, especially variants K and C, the HK416 assault rifle, the Rheinmetall MG3 machinegun, Panzerfaust 3's and, of course, the mighty grenades, the DM51 hand grenade. Heinrich, however, only utilizes his customized HK416 alongside his augmented P12 pistol, with obviously a few grenades to cover up the gaps. His allies, those in his squad, hold a variety of other tools of war that facilitate life on the battlefield.
T H E W E A P O N R Y O F A G E N T L E M A N
E k a t e r i n a u n d V a k h r o v
With this responsibility, came, of course, the need to improve his arsenal weapons. Having already a secondary Luger pistol with his primary one, he converted these two into a new variant which he designated as Parabellum-Pistole 1908 Mk. VI - HeTT. He painted them black, completely, changed the grip to its metallic appeal while still remaining with its wooden composure, and re-did their ejection mechanism so it would be capable of firing even faster than before with less of a recoil effect. Afterwards, he engraved them each as, from left to right, Ekaterina and Vakhrov, after the very woman that trained him.
Their protuberances, or silencers, are entirely a disturbance for the male to wear in the usual, common, waist-type holster, and because of this they are carried underneath his always-worn trench-coat or tuxedo by the aid of their own, downward-facing holsters, which are carried by a harness that goes around his shoulders and across his neck to impede their fall and assure their security and ease of access.
List of Modifications installed:
- Sound Silencing Apparatuses
- Heavy barrel for added impact and travel speed of bullets
- Extended, six-teen bullet magazine
- Fast-reacting, bullet retraction mechanism
- Hardened, oak wood grips holding the appearance of obscured, studded metal
- Enhanced, fluorescent, iron sights.
- - -
I wield weapons of destruction,
triggered by a movement of action,
Where none but the eye can prove that of a fraction.
Z E R S T Ö R E R D E R M Ä N N E R
T H E D E S T R O Y E R O F M E N:
A Kar-98K designated factually by its creator and user. It is an accurate and precise, bolt-action rifle customized by Heinrich himself after the end of the war. He equipped a times twenty-four zoom scope lens on it bolt-action mechanism. He had also switched said mechanism with a new, more advanced one, allowing him to quickly reload the chamber with a new bullet if needed. Besides this, he granted the frontal end of the barrel a flash hider for the purpose of concealing the muzzle's flash upon firing the weapon. It holds a caliber of 8mm mauser.
- x24 Zoom scope with night-vision capabilities
- A 'Pull-Bolt' Mechanism enhancement for the bolt-action function
- A tri-pod for added accuracy when standing still
- Canted, side iron sights for close engagements
- A flash hider
No matter the range,
No matter the pain,
No matter the length,
It would always be your final fate.
R Ü C K N A H M E U N D Z E R S T Ö R U N G
R E D E M P T I O N A N D R U I N A T I O N
T H E Q U E E N O F D O W N F A L L:
Mauser C96 9x19mm Parabellum
A secondary set of pistols of the Gentleman were put into consideration once he evaluated their proper performance and usage. These C96's are semi-and-fully-automatic pistols with ten bullet cartridges. They are more reliable than the Lugers, although slightly heavier than them, with about the same characteristics of accuracy and precision as the counterpart of them. As the Lugers, when transported by Heinrich, they are stored underneath his axillae in their proper holsters. They are sturdy, efficient guns.
- Leather grips for added comfort.
- 10-round magazines.
- Loading mechanism altered to fit magazines instead of clips from the top.
- Slightly extended barrel for better handling and accuracy and overall damage increment.
- Sound silencing apparatuses
- Enhanced, fluorescent, iron sights.
'Twas their might that had bequeathed them their use,
For a sole one could devastate,
but a second could annihilate.
D E R U N E R B I T T L I C H
T H E R E L E N T L E S S:
Of course, sooner or later, the man discovered the mere pistols and a rifle would not be enough to deal with vampires. Designed especially for the vanquishing of beasts and monster alike, the crossbow known to him as The Relentless was born. It is a precisely customized, light-weight, semi-automatic, cartridge-required weapon with a rudimentary sight. Due to its mechanism, it does not require the user to equip it with a bolt after firing one; it, instead, allows him or her to fire off exactly twenty bolts of wooden stems and silver tips. After the ammunition is expended, another cartridge is inserted and latched underneath the bulk of the contraption. With this design in hand, it allows for a rate of fire of forty-seven shafts per minute.
- Hardened, poly-fiber strings for added power upon impact
- Twenty shaft drum magazine
- Enhance, simple, three-digit sight
- Strengthened shafts with sharpened, silver tips
Antiquity had been the subject;
I had only known of such an object.
It represented the youth of Virgins, as it fired and wrecked.
B O S H E I T U N D S Y M P A T H I E
M A L I C E A N D S Y M P A T H Y:
Since the male had always been an expert in close quarters combat, he had decided to craft himself, with the aid of some of his allies, dual, silver daggers that he had named Sympathy and Malice. These blades are entirely capable of decapitating even the strongest of vampires, if Heinrich can manage to find himself that near to his target. If so, the slice of the silver sheet across the neck, applied by some additional, will be enough to severe the head. They are worn on the lower section of his back in their proper sheaths.
T H E C O N T R A P T I O N S O F A G E N T L E M A N
1 9 3 9 H O R C H T Y P E 9 3 0 V 8
P O R S C H E 9 1 8 S P Y D E R
Chofer of the lovely, alluring and majestic
V A M P I R E
E K A T E R I N A
V A K H R O V,
known only as
M S. V A K H R O V.
T H E T I G R E S S
M S . A L I B I
P R I S O N E R O F W A R
A thief is always a thief, no matter the reason, no matter the excuses, no matter the desperation, no matter the amount of gold at present. To liberate the luxury of another for one's own gain was refutable and disgraceful by default. One had dared to challenge The Serpent. The Tigress had ventured deep into the nest of an Anaconda, into the foggy swamps, paws below the surface of the water, suddenly entangled by a monstrosity with talons and slits for eyes. The hiss was produced and the strike had commenced. Stealing from the German and his home gifted this Tigress a life of isolation, imprisonment and abuse without much chance for escape. Heinrich ruled her and dominated her, turning every one of her fibers into utter frailty, corrupted and beautifully eradicated, hope never spared. She became a vessel of anguish, of torment and of satisfaction, a morsel to consume only when the German's hunger struck him and depraved him of all sense and logical reasoning, for he could not ponder on his actions. Instinct betrayed him and worsened her condition. Yet, she did not reside within; heaven sooner than later shone upon her when he promised her to change her, to remove her habits of a thief, of a burglar, of a hand that picked at the pockets of others for self-advantage. He would not allow her to seek such a low life as the aforementioned. Unfortunately, she did not easily learn; his methods proved to be too forceful and violent, eventually producing a grave toll upon her, destroying her will to exist, to live, to carry onward through the valleys and the plains of reality. It is then that he retires from her, maddened by her ignorance, her powerless, to focus on another quarry, a Russian whom could not last a day in the German's grasp.
The breather, while appreciated, would not benefit the Tigress for too long. Heinrich understood that, to have the life he aspired to enjoy, he could only manifest it throughout his one and factual prisoner, not through the heart or body of another. The Russian would not suffice. Spheres of Sapphires had been directed toward the woman in her room and he had no quarrel against the motives. If only love had not interfered with him and his intentions.
T H E R A V A G E D M A L E
During the war,
I had been promised a projectile.
I had been given a rifle.
I had been given a sight.
I had been given a scope.
I had not been given the will to kill.
T H E C O M M E N C E M E N T O F L I F E
A Gentleman of Knowledge had been endured far too much within the womb of a female; her innards had announced his conception in the year MCMXX, in the month of July, a day of the numerals of the XXV, in Bayern, Deutschland, The Fatherland of the Global Universe of the very existence of humanoids, of such screams that only prolonged the tolerance of the father, a well-known combatant, a sovereign of the land, of the farm that they owned. Nurtured and naturally adapted, the little boy, growing to be the most idyllic gentlemen of all, soon had been delivered the cruelty of one’s own vitality, at the age of five, where he had been told, merely shouted, by his mother, to flee the place he had so much as recognized as his home.
Assaulted, ravaged and deteriorated by the passing of the First of Global War, the diminutive idol scurried away with his minimal feet across the wheat fields of his farm, with the explosions and implosions of violence surging all around his environment of innocence, pretending, with a wooden plane in hand, that he was soaring above them all, safe and sound, producing, with the small maw of his expressive face, the sounds of its engine, reverberations only recognizable by that of his own mentality, arms extended, sprawled, only to take flight. The projectiles ignored him entirely, for they despised him too much to make contact with him.
They had told him to run for the forest.
And, as such, he had accomplished the ordeal of the century.
He hid beneath the rubble of the trees, mud covering his face, no fear present, yet that speck of innocence remaining where it belonged. He had been informed that his grandparents would come for him, for the best meal a grandmother could ever offer his grandson.
They never came, for as long as the hours passed, and they never did, until he perceived the sound of a familiar vehicle, a truck destined for the ownership of a couple he would never forget after burying them--the parents of his mother. The boy had been saved! A miracle had been elicited! No answer would be given! The mother had been raped. The father had been killed. The mother had died afterwards due to bleeding out from the wrists. The bodies were never found. The boy, when he had turned eighteen, remembered them not, for they were only a blur of time and space, conflicting with his passive ways of pondering.
Where he lived now, with eight years of age, was where he would be educated, the gigantic, expensive farm-house establishment, and academy, of his grandparents. Not a single day passed where he did not know an apparent and newly introduced subject. Twenty-four hours hadn't been enough, either way, for the boy that sat beside other children learning. He ventured into unknown realms of schools of thoughts, of psychology, of philosophy, where he gained the virtue of a man too precisely capable of manipulating the understanding of others.
Yet, at the pace he learned, the years passed, and so did his grandparents, leaving him alone, in charge of the school, of its education, of the farm, of its animals and of its crops, and so he cared for them all, for the tractor that had rusted itself with the exposure of the radiant orb of the firmament. Heinrich, that brave boy, was now twenty-one, with the care of his inheritance. With such a fortune in hand, he went to study in a college everything he could, starting off with the most intriguing of subjects, the math that related itself to everything, to the beginning of time and its objects. He became an engineer, a mechanic, a philosopher, a musician, a painter, an illustrator and an archer, all throughout his stance in college; but no dreams last forever, do they?
No dreams last at all. Hitler announced himself as the land's ruler by 1938, and the recruitment had begun by then. Heinrich had not been spared at all.
The year had been 1940, when the arrival of Germany stepped by the door of France, in July, the Summer of Bolstering and Scorching Fervency. Heinrich had begun to serve just in that damned and forsaken year, by the side of his comrades, Matthaeus Sieg, an elaborate male with a certainty in his aim, Richthofen Schuyler, a brute with a machine-gun, and Schubert Schumann, a medic with the innocence of a boy, caring and attentive to his friendlies. The war had commenced, yet Heinrich had yet to see it at a first glance. They had been man that one could rely on. The shadow of Heinrich
France had not received the most pleasant of marches, nor the most pleasurable of instances and occurrences--no, it had relied on the Resistance to fend off the masculine men of grey from their lands, but they had so much as failed to accomplish it.
The Iron Rose had died by the door's frame, just particularly at that moment of action, of malign intentions. She had died, and none could revive her anymore. The Wehrmacht and the Waffen SS had strode in and out of France by the time the Resistance stood any chance at all. None could stop them. Heinrich's men delivered the success of their objectives as a squad, and the years passed. Poland had already fallen. England was soon to fall. Russia was at the feet of the Grey Men. Africa's deserts were rule by Rommel.
The Grey Men ruled everything. Heinrich, Heinrich ruled everything, until the turning point made its way into his mind, until Matthaeus became an imaginary being, until Matthaeus was adopted as a pseudonym to guard Heinrich's true identity from others and their chase on him. Matthaeus Schultz Sieg equaled Heinrich Wilhelm Schultz. Matthaeus had never, not ever, existed. Heinrich's rifle, given by the non-existent Matthaeus, had been conceived with the name of Zerstörer der Männer, Destroyer of Men, a rifle of dysfunction, of anarchy, of chaos, of turmoil, predicted for the fall of men, for their downfall, for their own potential doom as men.
The fall had come to them, however, for the war's end came too soon, by the end of May, 1945, with Germany's utter surrender, and Heinrich's departure from Europe, towards elsewhere, towards the safety, towards the States, towards Australia, towards Argentina, towards Valencia, Spain, towards anywhere, as long as it included the final resting place of a homeless, fortune-splattered male. Coins of blood filled his pockets.
The man disappeared before the others could tell of his abandonment. He was characterized as MIA, by the end of the war, awarded the ghostly, phantom medals of Iron, of Bravery, of Honor, of Service, for he had accomplished what others had failed to do as soldiers of a country.
Heinrich Wilhelm Schultz. Matthaeus Schultz Sieg.
Men of Equality. Gentlemen of Gentility.
One man. One Soul.
A Portrait by August Sander.
Heinrich Wilhelm Schultz
SS-Rottenführer. 1942, 22 years of age, as of now.
5'7", Spheres of Turquoise
Obscure Mane, German
For he had been too different from the rest,
Apart from a part of lesser conjurings,
A male distinctive by the spectacles of a female.
Lest we forget his name.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
The potency of a soldier is always too prone to a particular fluctuation in a period, even after the bullets have passed, even after the explosions have ceased their occurrence. The Man is utterly bold in any given circumstance that entangles him and others. When confronted, he is a tactician, mildly silent and observant, with few words to say. Therefore, the inaudible mouth of the soldier shall never move under any pressure or heavy thought. He ponders before, and then the action comes. After the war, none of this changed; however, he became much more observant, much more silent, and much more hard to manipulate.
He is more than determined upon any objective and capable of being optimistic in even the most difficult of situations. Persistence is the trait that encompasses his ability to remain calm and focused on the tasks at hand, and this is what specifically separates him from other soldiers. His headstrong spirit is followed by the methods and tactics that he employs on himself and on the surrounding reality, where nothing escapes him due to his observant, subtle and silent nature.
However, not everything is solemnity for this male, for he is also very kind and caring for those that he cherishes as his own. He is very curious, positive, honest, patient, timid and encouraging with others as well. Not only is he a helping hand, he is also humble, obedient and trustworthy of any soul
P H Y S I Q U E
At 22 years of age, Heinrich is only but a young man, a boy fleshed out of a womb, still learning to become the potential build of a potent male. Even so, he sports the body of a soldier, a strong, tall individual with a certain amount of strength. His hair is of black, entirely darkened, shaggy and loosened, but shaven and concisely adhered to his cranium during the war. His hairy arms, although covered most of the time or shaven, are also a trait of his, highly repulsed and avoided, but sometimes welcomed. His stamina surpasses that of others, and his endurance correlates to this in a manner. While being averagely tall at about 6'0", blue eyed and young in build, he is not much of a show to others. The tainted skin that he holds is unblemished, but also tanned at times.
A N U N B R E A K A B L E B A N D
O F A L L I E S
A N D
C O M R A D E S
(Right to Left: Heinrich, Schubert, Matthaeus and Richthofen.)
"Never shall we fall. Never shall we lose. Never shall we fall back and retreat from the faces of ours enemies. We are soldiers. We are Germans. We have pride. We have might. We shall prosper. We are brothers. We are united. We are together as one. United until the end we shall stand in front of our enemies, and we shall kill them all, no matter what."
Richthofen H. Schuyler
"You're not bulletproof, that's one thing for sure, but one thing that I do know is that I am as compact as a rock. I will intertwine between my friends and I will kill anyone who threatens their lives. I am strong, I am hard, I am a shell, I am unstoppable, I am unbreakable. Those who fight by my side will see the fire in me, for it never burns out."
"Silence. Silence. Silence. It is all I hear in the middle of a cold and long night. My friends are away in the front lines. I am here, away in the back of the battlefield, killing my enemies and protecting my friends. Don't mistake me for a coward, for I am a snake whose bite is strong and deadly."
Field Medic Operative
"To care for, to look out for, to pay attention to. That's me, the Shoe Man. Name the wound, I take care of it. Blood? Bandage. Bullet? Pincers. Dead? Honor. I'll never forget a man on the battlefield. I never leave my friends behind. I look after them, all of them. Even the ones that I hate. I'm a medic, I never quit."
T H E I N C O R R U P T I B L E H O U N D
Oswin, a German Shepard.
Fully Trained, Military Hound.
During the war, Matthaeus and Heinrich found a dog stranded and alone near a fallen building. Matthaeus, since he didn't like dogs that much, gifted it to Heinrich the day they found it. This dog is a German Shepherd and Heinrich named him Oswin. Oswin is a very smart dog and tends to help out Heinrich in many ways. He can endure the weight of a few bags, one rifle and ammunition as well. Oswin wears the classic German helmet over his head just for basic protection. His fur is mainly dark, with a few whitened spots by his ears and face. The dog was trained by Heinrich himself in his own spare time, adding up to the hound's skills with detecting peculiar aromas or scents to track enemies or adversaries, as well as gunpowder, located mainly in landmines. The hound became a dear friend of Heinrich's. After the war, not much is known about the hound's whereabouts.
"Oswin is not just an ordinary and normal animal, he is more than just a creature. He is Oswin... He is my companion, my friend, my savior, my danger indicator. I care for him, he cares for me. I am by his side at all time and so is he. I always known that he will never leave my side in the face of danger. He is very special and one can clearly say that the species Canis lupus familiaris isn't only a name to place it over a dog's head, indicating that is it that. Nein, nein, nein und nein, mein freunde. He is more than just a creature, for he is a true and loyal friend, not an artificial and plastic-made one.
I can just remember the first time I actually brought him with me into the deadly battlefields. It was close to dawning; the air was cold and the night would be soon settling in on my friends and I at the camp we all had made with our bare hands. Every single one of my allies -- Schumann, Sieg and Schuyler -- were there with me. We had been all talking and gossiping about the past three days within the depths of the forest. The day before, Monday, was the day a carriage guided and controlled by two mules walked by us with fresh milk. Schuyler, as always, wasn't in for the milk because he had said that he had plenty of milk in his pants. Besides that fact, Schuyler was more focused on the individual who had the ropes tightened around the mules. He had said that she was one of the hottest and attractive women he had seen in a good while. Successfully, we all managed to stop her and Schuyler made his way into the dragon's cave, coming out burned and not carrying any precious jewels in his hands. For his imprudent actions, we weren't given any milk, but I managed to steal a whole box of it once the woman had commenced marching away into the distance.
All the night of that day we drank milk like never before. We talked like men and just had a bit of fun overall. Today, Wednesday, we heard chattering across the signal radio that was set in the middle of the camp. They had only called on my name and mine only telling to scout the area for hostile, Russian activity. I doubted that the Russians were held responsible, thus far, for Berlin's Countryside border; I was just following my orders.
Just when I had gotten up, picked up my rifle and a few simple resources, Oswin nudged on my leg with his nose, looking up at me with those deep brown eyes. I was suddenly dumbfounded and startled by the actions of the dog. The dog was wanting to follow me in this mission that I had. . For the first time. I left the camp with my companion, reached the point that I had to go to, scouted for about three hours or so with my rifle, the dog always being by my side, lying over the grass. I noticed nothing but the quiet and silent environment around. Later on, I returned from the mission, making it safely back to camp to tell the things I had saw during the mission. In the end, Oswin was rewarded with a bone that had a few left-overs of meat attached to it--he deserved it truthfully."
He had been borne a gentleman from the very beginning, and he had been conceived by none-other than the parents of gentility, but that had only been a story for another time, another course of memories, another paradox of the life of the Grey man that onward went into a new era of technology, ideologies and philosophies. With the advancement of the war and its final termination, Heinrich, with Germany's win in the war, became an utterly wealthy man of grace, tranquility and virtue. But, if defeated in the Second World War, he would be encountered wandering the depths of the planet in order to evade the hunting of the Nazi's.
However, with beautiful graces, he was granted the ability of receiving the fortune delivered by the inheritance of his grandparents soon after selling the farm-house, the academy and the many other possessions. Due to his service in the war, he also received countless advantages and awards that permitted him the ascension of the ladder of rank and position. With economy, with politics, with education, with his knowledge, he became an organized gentleman in society. Often required for the pursuit of power, he is only ordered to assist compulsory reunions of veterans, meetings of discussion, and many other activities where no other normal civilian can persist.
It had been the beginning of the months of 1946.
Afterwards, even so, with the life of a rich-man, located in a hill in the outskirts of Berlin, Germany, in a rented cottage with a car of his own, he trained as a killer to dispose of invaluable assets in Germany and all over the world. He is not restricted to the country of the Fatherland itself. With his early, military training, he transformed such knowledge and comprehension into the skills of an assassin, a hitman, a professional expert in the art of blood. Occasionally, he practices it every so often, but also has a preferred focus for the absorption of mathematics, philosophy, psychology and other subjects of Universities.
It had been the year of 1950.
But, currently so, he dedicates the entirety of his time in playing games of the mind with women and men, as well as savoring the minds of others. For entertainment, he participates in a variety of parties, weaponry shoot-outs, mascarade balls and the cinema. Heinrich, or Matthaeus, is no simple man, but a man of respect, of courtesy, of ideals, of analysis, hard to crack and vaporize.
He appears without the slightest sign or symbol of a Waffen SS soldier. He harbors a few blemishes and markings, or scars, due to momentary and terrible incidents and accidents that occurred to him during and throughout the war itself. Before the war, he had been flawless and outwardly impeccable to the eye of the females. For his usually loosened, black and long hair, he holds the refined and iconic hair style of the era that most men adopted as their own if they ever imagined a humble and well-organized way of combing their hairs without any difficulty or deprived of the occurrence consuming too much of the available time. This hairstyle consists of grooming the main, upper-section of a male’s mane to either lateral—these being left and right—, and then constructing an aperture, or a fissure, depending on the first chosen side, in the opposite side of the hair. Although, even with such a displayed hairstyle, he does tend to let loose his hair at certain times or events. He will release it if he's home, if he's practicing at a gun range, if he's walking down a street in search of a particular shop, of even if he simply wants to feel the wind fluctuate throughout the filaments of his hair.
He was a gentleman, and as a Gentleman of Grey he shall linger and persist, for no matter the circumstance, he will remain as the same. He is not to be dealt with in the most passive of ways; his past haunts him perpetually and there is no ounce of the past that expresses happiness or joy, or even the slightest amount of content. He's personality is rugged, fierce and serious. An aura of mystery harbors his atmospheres and ambiances. The Enigma is all that he has come to known and comprehend of himself. He is a man, a Man of Grey, and that repetition shall revolve around him, repeatedly, consecutively, without a termination or a conclusion. Why would it cease? Why would it dare to halt if he has had all of this fall upon him, if he has led himself to his demise?