Der Hafen

It was late. Too late for some. Then again, it was too early for others. The chaos which raged through the German capitol made people alter their view on many things, and among those things were time. What mattered in the long run? Did it matter if it was dusk or dawn? Did it matter if you were young or old? Did anything matter at all? Death was just a gunshot away anyway, and as far as most of the humans caught in this chaos was concerned, death was the end. While this was true for some, however, it was certainly not true for them. How little they knew.

Humans.

Ismael looked along the sight of his luger into the eyes of the man he was about to kill. He was a soldier of the red army, far away from home, probably forcefully drafted to go fight an enemy that had up until fairly recently been his ally. Ismael had killed hundreds and was responsible for the thousands during this war alone, and so killing this man should have been a triviality. But it wasn't. The man in front of him was a rarity. In the face of death, with no hope of survival, he was smiling. Ismael wanted to know why.

Sprechen Sie Deutch?

No response.

Россию, то. Почему ты улыбаешься?

There was a glimpse of surprise in the soldiers face, but he soon regained his calm.

"Если я умру, я буду со своей семьей снова."

Вы не можете быть уверены, что. Что делать, если все просто становится черным?

"Вы можете сказать или верить, что вы хотите. Eternal Darkness все равно будет лучше, чем эта."

If you say so…

-

With one less bullet in his gun, Ismael continued through the back alleys of Berlin towards Der Hafen. There was going to be some great entertainment there tonight from what he’d heard, and he had killed enough humans for one day anyway. He rounded the last corner just in time to see a person dressed in an army uniform enter through the front door. There was music coming from inside the club, a soft jazz tune. He entered and gave the clientele a quick look before he sat down at the last unoccupied table. There were only three guests there at the moment, himself included, but he was convinced more would come when the evening turned to night. The darkness usually lured them out.

 

After a long and tiresome journey, Alexandra (Alex for friends) finally arrived at her destination…’ Der Hafen’, a back-alley club hidden in a dark alley between the drab and dreary buildings. She looks around, and saw that the streets were empty, dark and cold. It was foggy, and it started to rain, but unfortunately could not hide the gloomy atmosphere.

Her scarce information about the ‘Der Hafen’ she received from her father was as follows:

“This is the only place where demons and angels come to meet each other under peaceful circumstances. They are not the only ones who come there; Humans who have magical powers and the undead came there as well. Now, be careful, the owner Friedrich Schneider is a very powerful human, who does not like people who breaks his rules.”

Alexandra took a deep breath “Alright let’s do this.” she said.

Then she entered the club. After she sat down a strange man with a Nazi unform came in.

 

Doctor Chan had arrived at Der Hafen at 8:45 pm as usual, retrieved his tea-set from where it was kept for him behind the bar, and sat at his usual table. Two hours later he was half way through his seventh cup and ready to devote himself entirely to the live jazz, one of the redeeming features of Western culture, in his view.

The sweaty, hispanic teenaged girl who had lurked in so conspicuously had caused a minor imbalance in his yang jing chi, but he contented himself with twinkling his eyes at her harmlessly and returning his attention to the jazz.

The quality of the chi changed again when the Malach entered, and a part of Chan's hindbrain tried to crawl out through his skin. His overt reaction was a slight raising of the eyebrows and a very slight nod in the direction of the Old One. These little courtesies were important... especially towards the SS but especially towards the Malach.

 

Looking around, Alexandra took off her backpack and placed it next to her. It was not busy at this moment. At the next table she saw an elderly Chinese man drinking tea. It was warm inside. She took off her coat and put it on the back of her chair. Then she beckoned a waiter, who came to her with a smile.

“What do you want for refreshment, miss?”

“Perhaps later. Do you know where I can freshen up?”

“Certainly miss. If you take the corridor next to the bar, then the last door is a restroom.”

“Thanks.” she said to the waiter, but he already walked away.

While everyone was listening to the music, or occupied with something else, Alexandra got up from her chair and took her backpack to the restroom. She locked the door behind her and placed everything on the floor.

After the refreshing shower, she combed her hair and put on clean clothes. The dirty clothes were placed in the front pocket of her backpack. Now feeling much better, the girl returns to her table. (Taking her backpack with her.)

 

Music is a language that speaks to the soul, and it was much easier than German for Chan to understand. Jazz was the sound of panic, fear and desperate joy. Like water bubbling down a mountain it was chaos in the face of the inevitable.

Like Beethoven the message was always the same: Here we are in an infinite universe, but only for a short while so make a noise! Bach and Mozart were different, their message was: Here we are in an infinite universe, forever.

If life was a dream of drowning in the sea, then Jazz was the sound of the frantic splashing. No wonder the Malach loved it.

 

Alexandra had barely gotten back to her seat when she realized the strange man dressed in an SS uniform was standing in front of her. Having removed his hat, his shoulderlength golden hair was fully visible, giving him an almost celestial look when matched with his pale skin and blue eyes. He gave her a warm smile and a slight bow.

Good evening, madam. I'm sorry to bother you, but is this your first visit here? I ask you this, because I have never see you here before, and I happen to frequent this establishment quite a lot myself.

The man gave her a curious look, and then suddenly seemed to remember something.

Oh! But where are my manners? My name is Ismael.

He picked up her hand and kissed it gently.

Pleased to meet you. And, madam, if this is indeed your first visit, I would like to be the first one to welcome you to Der Hafen.

He let go of her hand and gave her another warm smile.

Now, madam, if I may be so bold, I would like to ask you if I may sit with you at your table? I find myself very curious about you, and I think we both could use some company.

 

When Alexandra just came back to to her table she saw that the strange man dressed in an SS uniform was standing in front of her. Now she had a better look at him. She saw that the man had pale skin and blue eyes. After he removed his hat shoulder-high golden hair became visible.

Her trusty gut feelings told her that this guy was a Malach. Most likely a 'Fallen'. Perhaps it was better to wait with her inquires about her uncles until she could fully trust him.

He gave her a warm smile and a slight bow.

Good evening, madam. I'm sorry to bother you, but is this your first visit here? I ask you this, because I have never see you here before, and I happen to frequent this establishment quite a lot myself.

"Yes, this is my first time that I came here, indeed."

The man gave her a curious look, and then suddenly seemed to remember something.

Oh! But where are my manners? My name is Ismael.

He picked up her hand and kissed it gently.

"Hi, My name is Alexandra."

Pleased to meet you. And, madam, if this is indeed your first visit, I would like to be the first one to welcome you to Der Hafen.

He let go of her hand and gave her another warm smile.

Now, madam, if I may be so bold, I would like to ask you if I may sit with you at your table? I find myself very curious about you, and I think we both could use some company.

"Sure, why not. Please, take a seat." she said and pointed at a chair in front of her.

Then she sat down, and place the backpack next to her on the floor.

 

Samil was currently walking through the streets of Berlin, satisfied by what had been set in motion.
As he walked in the flickering lights of barley functioning streetlamps the rain started to trickle down,
as in an attempt to clean the world of the madness that was in it.
An attempt in vain, but an attempt none the less. He took a right turn in order to get to his destination, a bar all to known to his kind.
Soon he had reached the bar and stepped through the door, dripping as he stood just inside the door.
He swept through the room in order to identify those currently enjoying the peace the always were here.
An asian male currently sipping tea.
Another human male that looked like he had stepped right out of a British gentleman's guide.
A latina female that seemed to have a conversation with the fourth visitor. And this one was interesting.
A malach he think he recognized. From his side if he was not mistaken. Not that it mattered in here.

He left the puddle of water that he had made and sat down near the middle of the room, ordering in his usual whisky,
at the moment satisfied with observing the scene and everyones motion.

 

Chan nodded to the latest arrival without making eye-contact, his usual cautious greeting to any such powerful - and evil - being. That part of his hindbrain which tried to crawl out through his skin when he had seen Ismael now tried to crawl out through his bowels. This one's chi darkened the room like a storm-cloud. Neutral ground or not, it would not be wise to stare.

His tea-set was wiped down and carefully stowed back into its box. He exchanged a quiet word with Herr Scheider as he returned it to the bar then returned to his usual spot.

As it transpires, he has bought a free round for all the guests and a couple extra rounds for the band, with his compliments. He doesn't drink alcohol himself: Bad for the Yang.

 

Sure, why not. Please, take a seat.

Splendid!

Ismael sat down where she pointed and waved for a waiter.

"Yes, sir?"

A glass of red wine for me, thank you.

"And for the lady?"

Hm, well I must confess... I don't know. What would you like to drink? It's on-

At that point Samil entered the club, looking like a big, wet, shaggy dog, thus distracting Ismael in mid-sentance.

-uh, it's on me.

He had never really liked Samiel that much, same side or not, perhaps mainly because the Malach always failed to remember Ismaels name. It was important to stick together nowadays, but that man simply refused to play ball anyway. Besides, he usually wasn't very polite. He gave the wet one a short nod of recognition and then returned his focus to the girl. He didn't quite catch what she said to the waiter, but while the later one scurried away to fetch their drinks he took the opportunity to get to know more about this "Alexandra".

So... Since I believe not having seen you here before means that you're from somewhere else, most likely somewhere far away, may I inquire where that somewhere might be? You don't look European... or, well, a little, but there's something definetly foreign about you. Tell me, are you American? Or Mexican?

He lit himself a cigarette while he was talking and instinctively offered one to Alexandra.

 

Splendid!

Ismael sat down and waved for a waiter, who came very quickly.

"Yes, sir?"

A glass of red wine for me, thank you.

"And for the lady?"

Hm, well I must confess... I don't know. What would you like to drink? It's on-

Suddenly she noticed that Ismael was distracted by something. It seems that he was looking at someone who looked like a big, wet, shaggy dog. He also knew this man, because Ismael notted his head.

-uh, it's on me.

"Oh. I think I better stick to an orange juice with ice cubes, thank you."

Now that they have order their drinks the waiter scurried away to fetch their drinks.

So... Since I believe not having seen you here before means that you're from somewhere else, most likely somewhere far away, may I inquire where that somewhere might be? You don't look European... or, well, a little, but there's something definetly foreign about you. Tell me, are you American? Or Mexican?

Ismael lit a cigarette while he was talking and offered one to her.

"No, thank you. I don't smoke. And yes, I am an American citizen indeed, but my parents are of Mexican and Italian descent."

Now feeling thirsty, she was happy that the waiter came with their drinks.

 

The Malach raised his eyebrows.

All the way from the New World, eh? That's interesting. So how did you find out about this place? Other Others in the family? I can't imagine you found it by reputation. Even though Der Hafen is very famous here in Europe, I've heard it's not quite so overseas. Or am I perhaps wrong?

The waiter returned with two glasses and a bottle. The glass containing juice was put in front of the girl, and the other in front of Ismael. He didn't even bother tasting the wine before accepting it; he knew exactly what he wanted and so did the waiters of this establishment. The waiter left the bottle with him and left quietly.

Meanwhile, the band finished a particularly difficult piece and apparently decided to take a short break before the next number. Ismael applauded them and then took a sip from his wine. Delicious as always.

 

All the way from the New World, eh? That's interesting. So how did you find out about this place? Other Others in the family? I can't imagine you found it by reputation. Even though Der Hafen is very famous here in Europe, I've heard it's not quite so overseas. Or am I perhaps wrong?

"Yes, I am not the only one in my family who is an Other. There are more of them. Well. Actually, only on my father's side. Everyone on my mother's side is non-wizards. Therefore, you could say that it was a great surprise for my mother, when my father told her that he was an Other. “

The waiter returned with two glasses and a bottle. The glass containing the orange juice was put in front of her, and the other in front of Ismael. The waiter left the bottle on the table and left quietly.

She took a sip from her juice. It was cold, sweet and refreshing.

"How I knew of this club? The first time that I heard of this club was from my father. He told me that this is the only place where demons and angels come to meet each other under peaceful circumstances. Humans who have magical powers and the undead came here as well. “

He also told me to be careful; the owner Friedrich Schneider is a very powerful human, who does not like people who breaks his rules. Second time I heard of this club was during my visit at my relatives in Italy. “

Meanwhile, she noticed that the band was done with a particularly difficult piece, and decided to take a short break before the next number. Ismael applauded, and took a sip from his wine.

"So, Ismael tell me about your self. I was wondering are you the only Malach German officer in here? Yes, I know that you are a Malach. And If I may ask, are you an exception? Or, are there more in the German army? Because I did not knew about this sort of thing. “

 

I would have been surprised and a bit disappointed, I think, if you hadn't identified me as such. After all, Ismael isn't a very common name among humans, wouldn't you agree? And as for news out of heaven and hell... this might come as news for you, but we left hell behind a long time ago, and heaven... heaven has left us.

Ismael took another sip of wine and continued.

Now, what could or should I tell you about myself? I'm participating in this was because of my own interests, just as very many other Malach. We're on both sides. You could even say this is our war much more than it is yours.

What about you then? Why are you here? Can't imagine you'd go to Berlin in it's current chaotic state just to see the sights. What's your agenda?

 

Inwardly, Chan cringes as he covertly observes the young lady being so effortlessly charmed by the Old One. Not out of jealously - far from it - but because it is like watching a wolf charm a sheep.

For just a moment he considers intervening for the girl's sake, warning her to caution, but his own caution over-rules him.

"Do nothing and all will be well," that is Heaven's Law. Still, one as subtle and experienced as Ismael could have sensed a change in Chan's chi, an ever-so-slight tensing of his muscles, as though readying for combat... and then the moment passed.

 

While everyone would think she was easily charmed by Ismael that was not the case. Because through her strong personality she was not easily impressed. Yes, Alexandra was interested to talk with the Malach, but she took some caution.

"Look at us, two wolves in sheep clothes trying to charm each other. "

Ismael took another sip of wine.

What about you then? Why are you here? Can't imagine you'd go to Berlin in it's current chaotic state just to see the sights. What's your agenda?

Now, the things Alexandra already told him was not a secret, but she still did not knew if she should tell him about her two uncles, because she was not completly sure that he could be trusted.

"Not much. Just some family business brought me here."

She took another sip from her juice.

"You come here a lot of times here, right? Does the Nazi's really bring sometimes prisoners here? I heard a waiter telling that to his college."

Edit: Fixed some typos, grammar and recovered some missing parts of this post.

 

Samil was sitting at his table in the middle of Der Hafen and just taking everything that took place in here. The Malach, Ichmak? something with an “i”, were still chatting with the latino at his table.
The asian man did get tense for a brief moment, what did he expect would happen here?, with the gentleman drawing no attention to him.

The band finished their piece and seemed to take a break. Samil was taking a sip from his glass, pondering on how he wanted the evening to continue. He considered join te other Malach in his conversation, they were after all allies, but decided that he had absolutley no interest in conversatin with another being at the moment, least of all someone whose name wasn’t worth remembering. For the moment satisfied, he enjoyed his drink and waited for the band to start their next song.

 

Ismael raised his eyebrows, and then turned his gaze away from the girl and chuckled.

That depends. Some prisoners have been brought in and some have been shipped away. Most prisoners here NOW are Russian soldiers, though. Family in Russia? No? Didn't think so.

He leaned in closer.

If you're looking for the... special prisoners, then Berlin isn't the place you should be searching. They're held elsewhere. Except for in some special cases, that is.

There were more people coming now. A small group of Others, another Malach and an undead fellow came through the front door and sat down all around the club, one of which positioned himelf next to Samiel. Ismaels smile widened into a grin when he thought of that pairs upcoming conversation. It could get quite ugly. No wonder he kept coming back here.

 

"Serr gut, serr gut," Chan nodded and smiled to the band members as they finished their set. Nod, nod, smile, smile. He welcomed them to his table in the now-crowded bar and paid for another round.

After a quick word with the owner of the double-bass, he shuffled slowly on stage and took a moment to re-tune a few strings on the instrument. Then he began to play, a rolling, mournful melody.

The song he plays is a Mongolian shamanic tune, "Orphaned Camel". It stylises the sounds of a starving, dying calf, and is meant to evoke sympathy in lactating cows, that they might adopt the orphan. (OOC - This melody is very similar to the closing theme of the movie Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon).

Chan does not doubt that the majority of the clientelle are immune to the sound of starving orphans, but he also knows the message will not be lost on Ismael: that on earth, the young are sacred and will be protected.