Chapter Text
Imagine if mankind reached for the stars instead of just desperately trying to annihilate each other?— Besame mucho, George deValier.
March 16th, 1938 — Berlin, Nazi Germany
The hallway was silent, save for the muffled sound of lone footsteps on carpet. Austria walked down the dark hallway, holding his head up high as he passed a few guards in black Nazi uniforms.
The nation had gotten used to seeing them in the past few days, yet they still carried the same sense of silent dread that they had when they had marched in Vienna. Their dark uniforms didn't fit the bustling streets of his capital, but in these halls, they fit in perfectly.
The halls of the Reichstag seemed to stretch forever, as if allowing a person's dread to build while they walked down the long corridors.
Austria had gotten a summons from the man himself, Adolf Hitler, to meet in his office at 15:30. With the Führer’s popularity growing daily, Austria was a little shocked to see how few guards were standing in the halls, the ones who were casting him dark looks, their hands tightening on their guns as if they knew what he was. A ‘Jude,’ as the Germans called him.
Still, they were a little more than a nuisance in the back of his mind while he approached the tall, dark wood doors of Hitler's office. He showed the two guards posted outside the door his official summons; they quickly let him through. The sound of the doors closing echoed through the otherwise quiet office; no one else was in the room except two other men.
It was a nice room, Austria supposed, though the curtains were drawn closed, even though it was the perfect day to have them open. He took in the room quickly, eyeing the dark carpeting that matched the drapes, but his main focus was on the large desk and the man who sat behind it.
Hitler himself was not the most intimidating person to look at; his mustache was ridiculous in the Austrian’s opinion. His blue eyes were like lakes, not as blue and not as deep as the ocean, nor as vast and bright as the sky; instead, they were shallow and murky. The man was sitting in a relaxed position, leaning back in his chair, looking pleased— though with what, Austria didn't know.
The man near Hitler, however, was more intimidating, but in a slimy, odd way that sent a chill up Austria’s spine. He had a pair of glasses set on his odd little nose; behind them, dark blue eyes were locked on Austria, like a cat staring down a mouse.
“You must be the nation of Austria,” Hitler greeted, gesturing to the leather seat on the opposite side of the desk. “Please, sit.”
“Thank you,” Austria responded politely, taking the seat directly across from Hitler, trying to avoid the cold blue eyes he could feel staring at him.
“I understand that you are the personification of Austria, correct?” Hitler asked, straightening a pencil that had gone askew on the desk.
“That is correct.” Austria nodded.
“Well! It is good to finally meet you!” Hitler said with enthusiasm. Something about the humorous tone in his voice made the air feel thicker, as if laced with something.
“This is one of my associates, Heinrich Himmler.” Hitler continued, gesturing to the man next to him, not noticing how tense Austria was becoming.
Austria forced himself to make eye contact with the blue eyes that had been staring him down. “It is nice to meet you.”
Austria greeted, stretching a gloved hand out across the desk. Himmler didn’t respond; he only stared at the hand, the thick air turning sour. Austria retracted his hand after an awkward silence, sinking back into his chair just a bit more.
“Well, onto business!” Hitler said, once again, his voice seemed to be dripping with fake sweetness, like cough syrup. “I will need to work very closely with you now that you have become a part of this great country! I think we both want what is best for our people, yes?”
“That is correct.” Austria nodded. “Though, in the past, most of the time, personifications work with the other personification of the said country they are working with. I could work in contact with Germany-”
“That won’t be necessary.” Himmler cut off, his voice slicing through the air. Unlike Hitler, his voice held no sweetness, whether genuine or not. It was more like a dagger, going straight through Austria’s ear and into his brain.
“We wish to work very closely with you personally,” Hitler told him. “We have realized that there are several that need to be dealt with in your nation, and we would like to help.” The fake sweetness in his voice was so thick that Austria was choking on it.
“That would be nice.” Austria agreed.
“Yes. There are a number of problems within your small state!” Hitler said, smiling. The smile was just as cold as Himmler’s glare, sending a wave of goose bumps up Austria’s arms, yet making him sweat at the same time.
“What problems were you thinking we should tackle first?” Austria asked, struggling to maintain his prim posture.
“There are several. Homelessness, poverty, famine…” Hitler said, waving his hands absentmindedly in the air. The oddly cold smile he had kept on his face disappeared as he looked at Austria. “Jews.”
“W-What?” Austria stuttered.
“Jews,” Himmler answered. Standing up from his chair, he started to make his way around the desk. Austria had to force himself to stay seated instead of bolting up from his chair and running as fast as he could.
“Jews,” Himmler continued. “You know them. The filthy pigs, letting their beards grow long and their dirty blood tainting the pure. I believe there are lots of them causing problems in our place, no?” Himmler asked, placing his hands on Austria’s chair.
The Austrian couldn’t say anything. He was a fish surrounded by two hungry sharks, just waiting to snap their jaws. Himmler leaned down, his face near Austria’s ear.
“Tsk, tsk. Don’t you know it’s rude not to respond?” Himmler asked in a soft whisper. “Or do you Jews just not know manners?”
Austria went as white as a sheet, his heart pounding in his chest. The room was too quiet; he could hear his heartbeat echoing against the walls, bouncing back and ringing in his ears.
“Come now, Himmler! That isn’t how we treat our guests!” Hitler said, his fake voice back on. Somehow, the sweet voice seemed a million times worse than a harsh one. Himmler backed away, coming to stand next to Hitler again.
“Now! Let us treat him like a guest!” Hitler continued. “Let’s show him to his room! We have one especially prepared for you.” The German purred. “Himmler, send for your SS guards to escort Mr. Austria here.”
The SS, the Schutzstaffel. That was when Austria lost his grip on his posture. He stood up quickly, his chair scraping against the wood. Himmler was already walking to the door, his pace calm as he retrieved the guards that had been on watch in front of the door.
The two tall men strode into the room, the footfalls of their boots like hammers hitting metal. Their faces held no smile, only a glint of humor in their eyes as they came marching closer to the Austrian.
“W-What is the meaning of this!” Austria shrieked as the two guards came and tightly grabbed his arms, cutting off the flow of blood to his hands. “Unhand me!”
“Do you not see?” Hitler said, as if the answer was obvious. He got out of his chair and leaned over the desk. “I already told you that I am going to help your state. And to do that, I’m going to need your full cooperation.” The Austrian could smell Hitler’s breath from across the desk, and it smelled just like his voice. Sickly sweet mint, covering up and mixing with something rotten.
“This—this is preposterous!” Austria cried, his arms starting to go numb. “Put me down and let us solve this like the gentleman we are!”
Hitler shook his head, waving a finger like he was scolding a child. “Nein. That is where we differ. I am a gentleman. You,” He said, leaning in a bit closer, his face turning into more of a snarl. “Are a Jew.”
Austria stuttered, trying to find a retort but choking on air instead. Hitler turned around and waved his hand in the air. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Himmler nod and gesture for the guards to follow him.
“Wait! Where are you taking me! I demand to know!” He shouted, struggling in the guard's firm grips. “I am the country of Austria and I-”
Himmler turned around and slapped the Austrian. The sharp burn spread across his face, the red handprint standing out from how pale his skin had become. Himmler grabbed Austria’s chin and leaned in close.
“We do not take orders from Jews,” Himmler told him, his words spreading ice throughout Austria’s bones. He looked at the guards. “Take him to the cell. If he struggles, don’t be afraid to teach him a lesson about German superiority." Himmler gave Austria one last look, triumph dancing in his otherwise dead eyes. The shark had the fish between its jaws.
Himmler turned away again, walking back into Hitler’s office. The door closed with a click, ringing through the quiet hallway. The guards tugged on Austria, but his legs couldn’t move.
He wanted to scream for help. Pride aside.
But still echoing through his mind was the sound of a hand hitting his cheek — so he remained silent.
The guards started moving forward, but Austria didn’t walk —He couldn’t walk. “Move, Jew!” The guard on his left growled, kicking Austria in the shins. The nation fell forward, tripping as he tried to stand.
There were no other sounds as they started walking through the corridors. The Austrian could only hear four things:
One, the sound of the guard's boots, hitting the floor at an even pace. Like a metronome that just kept clicking. Never stopping. Beating slowly as they walked down dark corridors that were only lit with the dim glow of flickering light bulbs.
Two, was his own breathing. It wasn’t like a metronome. It was like a musician who knew no beat, coming rapidly in short bursts.
The third was the sound of his heart beating wildly in his chest. It echoed through his body all the way up to his ears, drowning out any sensible thought he had.
Austria was afraid his heart would give out altogether, the shock finally overcoming his senses. But he continued walking.
What little part of his brain that was still functioning was focused on the fourth sound. Screams. He had been having nightmares lately. The sounds of his citizens being dragged off the streets, beaten up by Nazis. The sounds of men groaning in pain as they were beaten, women crying as they held their children close, only to be dragged away.
The screaming in his mind rose higher as the guards stopped in front of a plain-looking wall. The guard on his left kicked a little spot in the corner of the wall, and the wall popped open, revealing a narrow staircase winding down into darkness. Austria stood shell-shocked, knowing that where he was going, no one would be able to hear him scream. “Move.” One of the guards growled.
They pushed him into the stairwell first, the wooden steps creaking as he was forced down them. Then, a cold, round object was pressed against his back. A gun. Austria’s legs wobbled as he started walking down the stairs, each one sending a creak into the silent darkness.
Halfway down the stairs, a pungent odor rose to meet the Austrian’s nose. He doubled over, almost vomiting at the scent that now wafted through the air, growing stronger with every step down. It was the smell of human suffering, of uncleaned floors with the hint of metal that human blood carried.
They reached the end of the stairs, only to be greeted by a long, dark hallway. There was a row of cells on one wall, and whimpering coming from a few of them. He passed one of the cells, and he knew that there were other Austrians down there, his people.
He dared a peek towards the cells and immediately regretted it. A pair of muted, soulless eyes gazed back at him, bony fingers wrapped around the bars of the cell, cheekbones hollowed out, barely more than breathing skeletons with a thin layer of skin. He could feel those fingers, dragging their way up his spine, reaching around his neck, a breath on his ear whispering a rattling plea for help. Or death.
Austria kept his eyes down, looking at the dirty concrete ground. He only looked up when the guards stopped at a metal door. They took out a dinghy key, and the door opened with a groan. The guards shoved him in, the metal door slamming behind him.
There was no one in this hallway. Rows of empty cells lined each side of the wall, and at the end, another metal door. The guard led the Austrian down to the last cell, shoving him in.
“Sweet dreams, Jew.” One of the guards spat on him, sneering as he walked away with the only source of light.
The darkness engulfed Austria.