ATTENTION: MAJOR SPOILER ALERT!

If you have already read DITR, great – please continue reading! But if you haven't read it, be aware this chapter kills one of the biggest reveals in that story. To my future readers currently on the second draft of DITR who are being nosy and checking out the sequel before it's finished: GO AWAY. You are not welcome here. Get out. Scram. Go learn basket weaving, or something.

...and a less pressing announcement that there is mention of sexual abuse in this chapter. And sooo many spoilers. Seriously, this chapter should be illegal.

Okay, here it is.

January 1, 1953
Berlin

Gilbert awoke to a searing throb that roared through his head.

His eyes blinked open to be met with a dim light – the blurriness came into focus so that he could make out green chipped, cement walls of what appeared to be an office. A desk stood in front of him scattered with papers and pens, with a telephone sitting on the corner. The posters on the wall were in German, but the bold colorful propaganda style told him that he was deep within Communist territory. Gilbert groaned and reached up to pinch his nose, only to discover that his arms wouldn't budge. His head shot down to see that not only his arms, but his torso and legs were bound to a wooden chair. In a flash he remembered what had happened, and he let out a stream of curses that were muffled by the rag tied around his mouth.

Great. Just great.

Gilbert's veins raged with fury. He wanted to punch something – no, kill something. He groaned, wondering how long he would have to sit here and be pissed off at the world before someone – oh GOD please let it not be Russia – came in to interrogate him. Wait a minute – this is no interrogation room. He frowned, recognizing the state-like office as that of the secret police. If he had been captured by the МГБ, why wasn't he being kept in a cell? Gilbert forced himself to remember what had happened.

That bitch on the train had a Russian accent, and it was clearly her mother tongue. Which means… she has to be with the МГБ, right? But this is the East German intelligence headquarters, by the looks of things. Hope fluttered in his chest. She called me 'Preußen', so she knows who I am. Maybe if I can get this whole East German representation shit cleared up, they'll let me go. Whoever owned this office was probably waiting for him to wake up, so Gilbert decided to expedite that process.

"Hmmffh!" he shouted into the gag. "Mm ahhmmf!" Gilbert rolled his eyes; Well that was useless. He bucked forward against the ropes, trying to build momentum. The chair tilted, then he threw his weight back and its legs hit the floor with a clatter. I'll bet the door to this office is metal; I'll have to be louder than that. Gilbert leaned forward again, this time further so the chair slammed louder. He waited for a few moments, not hearing any footsteps. Goddammit; how many times will I have to do this before someone actually hears me? He tensed his muscles, leaning against the ropes –

Just then the door creaked open. Gilbert turned his head to see someone step into the office, but he had tipped the chair too far. His eyes widened as the ground rushed up to meet him. He grunted, his face mashing up against cold cement; not even gravity was strong enough to separate his back from the chair. Gilbert flushed with a rare bout of embarrassment – whoever had just stepped into the office could very well be the head of East German intelligence, and their first view of their nation representative was of him upside-down and tied to a chair.

Just my fucking luck.

Footsteps echoed off the cement walls. Are those… heels? Sure enough, a pair of shined stilettos clicked into his line of sight, hose rising up slender calves. What the – it's that bitch from the train!

"I see that you are awake."

Gilbert cursed into the gag. Great observation skills, lady.

"I would ask you how you slept, but to be honest I do not care." Funny, the way she talked almost reminded him of Russia. Her words held the same cruel humor, but her tone lacked the Russian's fake cheer. "I'm sure you are wondering why I have brought you here. As you can see we are located in the headquarters of the Ministry of State Security of the GDR – but your people like to call them the 'Stasi.' They are as respected and feared as the МГБ."

Gilbert's eyes followed the heels as they clicked in front of the desk. "You have heard of Semyon Ignatev, yes? Minister of State Security of the Soviet Union." There was a creak of wood, and Gilbert could barely make out a pair of crossed legs. Mein Gott, she's sitting on the desk. Who does this bitch think she is!?

"I outrank him. I am a liaison for all intelligence agencies, both within the USSR and its Satellite States. I facilitate the most extensive and effective spy network in the world, and I command a small army of personally trained agents. We carry out… special missions assigned to us from a certain high-ranking Politburo member. In fact, I believe you may even be familiar with him."

Gilbert's eyes widened. No… please don't be –

"His name is Ivan Braginski – nation representative of the Russian SFSR and head representative of the Soviet Union. His job is to make sure that all of his little rats stay in their cages. And just a week ago, I received a call from him saying that one of his rats escaped."

Cold sweat broke out on Gilbert's brow. No! No, no, NO, goddammit, I've got to get out of here! His breath grew panicked as he struggled against the ropes, but it was no use.

"He did have a strange request, however – and that was to allow this rat to reach Berlin before capturing him. It seems you have some friends vouching for you in Moscow, Preußen."

Gilbert's eyes widened. They… th-they asked him to let me get this far? If Russia had actually granted the Baltics' request, maybe the three of them were safe. Part of him was relieved to hear this, but there was a darker side to the news: If Crazy Spy Lady had known of their plans since day one, it meant that he had Diedrich had been under the МГБ's watch the entire time. They hadn't escaped at all – no, they weren't even close. The only reason Gilbert had even set foot in his own country, or laid eyes on Berlin, was because Russia had let him. And what about Diedrich? Oh Gott, what must they be doing to him?

"Your friend is safe," the woman said, somehow reading his mind. "Our instructions were only to capture you. It seems Van – Mr. Braginski held a fondness for his former agent. He should have arrived in West Germany yesterday."

Good, at least then he can get my letter to Luddy. Still, the situation sucked. One second Gilbert had been on a train to finally reunite with his brother, the next he was tied to a chair with his face mashed against cement listening to the taunts of some psychotic bitch Russia had hired to hunt him down. So what now? He wanted to sneer. You peel me off this floor and ship me back to Moscow where Russia lays into me with that damn whip of his? Probably feed me to the Stasi first, shake me up a little…

"Of course I am under orders to contact Mr. Braginski immediately upon capturing you." Gilbert heard the click of the phone handset being lifted off the receiver. He tensed; so that's why he was in an office an not a cell."But..." The desk shifted, her voice falling to a sly whisper. "You are in possession of some valuable information. And if you can answer my questions, then I will consider letting the rat slip from my fingers."

Information? What the hell would I know; I've been in a box for the last seven years! But as he was currently gagged, Gilbert was in no position to argue… and of course he would take any chance at possible escape. The phone clicked back onto the receiver, then fabric shifted as she slid off the desk. The chair flew upright with a motion so quick that Gilbert's stomach dropped. He let out an involuntary yelp as the world spun, and his body jarred as its legs slammed on the floor. Eyes as blue as cobalt pierced into his, and a cold blade slipped beneath the rag and so that Gilbert could feel its sharp edge pressing against his cheek. A single drop of blood rolled down his neck.

"Are you ready to talk?" she asked sweetly.

Everything about her – from the crisp scent of winter to the dim glow of madness in her eyes, to the false cheeriness in her voice…even her interrogation style reeked of Russia. Is she a female version of him, or something? Mein Gott, how can the world handle two of them!? But all Gilbert could do was nod, hissing in pain as the knife slit his cheek. She jerked away the blade, cutting the fabric of the gag so that it fell around his neck. Gilbert coughed and licked his dry lips as he regained command of his mouth. "What do you want to know?" he rasped.

The woman pulled back, and for the first time Gilbert was able to get a good look at her. She wore a navy blue dress with loose skirts, a blue-and-white striped sash tied around her waist. The neck came up high, but even so her hourglass figure was clearly visible through the close-fitting fabric. Waste-length silvery hair cascaded around her shoulders, pulled back from her face in a white bow. Gilbert found it strange that such a high-ranking woman would choose to wear alluring clothes – that makeup was probably unheard of in Communist society – but it all seemed to be part of the powerful, sexy aura she had going. And it worked, too – had her mannerisms not reminded him so much of Russia, he might actually be attracted to this chick.

She leaned back on the desk, gloved fingers curling around the edge as she regarded him with a steely gaze. "I want to know exactly what happened to you between June 24th and 28th of 1941."

June of '41? But that's… Gilbert's eyes widened. The hell? Why would she want to know that?

"My records show that you went missing from that four-day timeframe up until August 3rd of 1945, during the nation briefing of the Potsdam Conference. Prior to your disappearance, you had been placed as High Commander of Army Group North, entrusted by Hitler himself with the capture of Vilnius, Minsk, Riga, Tallinn, and Leningrad. Your final mission was to meet your brother, Ludwig Beilshmidt, for Soviet surrender in Moscow." She raised an eyebrow. "Am I wrong?"

"No," Gilbert breathed. How does she know all this? And why does she care?

"Simultaneous with your disappearance was the Third Reich's denial of your rank, military and political history within the Nazi Party. All records and paperwork regarding a 'Gilbert Beilschmidt' or Eastern Prussian representative were destroyed, any soldiers or officers previously acquainted with you denied ever having known you. Overnight, 'The Awesome Prussia' had ceased to exist."

Now Gilbert was creeped out. How old is this chick; like twenty-five? She would have just been a kid during the war; barely old enough to work as a nurse, let alone know about our invasion plans. And how does she know about the 'Awesome' thing? Either she had gained access to top secret files in the war's aftermath, or seduced some high-ranking ex-Nazis into spilling info. Gilbert didn't doubt it, with that figure. I'll bet she kicks ass in combat, too. Where does Russia find these people?

"But on the afternoon of August 3, 1945, each nation of Europe was a witness to your 'resurrection.' You entered the conference room late, along with the Hungarian representative Elizaveta Héderváry who had also been reported missing following the Battle of Stalingrad in 1943. However, her disappearance differed from yours, as Hungarian authorities did not deny her existence and put out extensive search parties to find her. It was clear that the two of you had been in contact during this time, as you were inseparable during Mr. Braginski's after-war celebration in Moscow. Attending nations sighted the two of you dancing, whispering to each other, and there were even reports of an emotional farewell when you parted ways."

Gilbert frowned, remembering Latvia having said something about him and Liz. Dammit… why couldn't he remember?! Everything after the war was a blur – the only thing he could recall were the measures he took to protect Ludwig. After that, his world had turned into a hell of beatings and visions until he could no longer distinguish reality from his own tormented memories…

"I have spoken to Ms. Héderváry about what happened to the two of you during the war, and she claims that you made her swear to keep this a secret. If I wanted to know what became of you in the summer of 1941, she said, I would have to ask you myself." The woman slipped a knife seemingly out of nowhere – Gilbert realized she must keep them strapped to her legs – and spun it in the air before catching the handle. "Even after using… alternative methods to getting the information I wanted, Ms. Héderváry remained silent. She is very loyal to you, Preußen."

Gilbert clenched his teeth in a snarl. "What did you do to her?"

She raised her eyebrows. "So you are close."

"Maybe we are, maybe we aren't. I still don't get what any of this has to do with you."

A dry smile flickered across her face. She twirled the knife between her fingers as she said in a light voice, "I hope you intend to be more cooperative than your Hungarian friend. It was quite the chore cleaning up after our… conversation."

Gilbert cursed in his own language. Goddammit, she really is a female Russia! He weighed his options. She clearly wasn't hunting for info under Russia's orders – the Commie had never seemed interested in his disappearance, and she was disobeying him by not contacting him right away. If Gilbert did answer her question, she would let him escape… He narrowed his eyes and scanned the woman head to toe. Something's telling me that's a bluff. If Russia trusted this lady enough to hunt me down, her loyalty to him must be rock solid. Even if I do give her the info she wants, she'll still turn me in.

Plus there was the fact that she had interrogated – possibly tortured Liz. Just the thought sent Gilbert's blood boiling; nobody touched his friends, especially not psycho she-Russias with knife obsessions. And if I tell her what happened to me, it's only a matter of time before the entire international community knows. Gilbert shuddered at the memory of blades cutting through his skin like butter. Well, if I survived it once, I can survive it again. He looked the woman dead in the eye as he said, "Sorry, Princess. But I'm not telling you shit."

She took in a sharp gasp, blue eyes widening in shock. Gilbert had barely registered the fracture in her composure before she turned to the side, hair falling in a curtain that blocked her face from view. Her voice trembled as she said, "Wh…why did you call me that?"

"I dunno, seemed like a fitting name. I have nicknames for everyone, it's just kind of my thing – "

"Luddy. Liz. Asstria." Her voice fell to a whisper: "Princess."

Gilbert was at loss for words. How… there's no way she could have known that! Something was going on here, something he didn't understand. It was then he realized that while she had told him her position, the woman had never stated her name. Who the hell are you?

Leather gloves tightened around the knife."What happened to you in the summer of 1941," she pressed.

"Look lady, I don't know what your problem is, but you really need to get a hobby or something because I have no idea what the hell it is you want from me – "

"I want you to REMEMBER!" With lightning speed, she grabbed the back of his chair and pulled hit towards her, breath hot in his face as the trembling blade pressed into his neck. "You… y-you remember her…" she choked. "B-but you don't remember me? Wh… what the hell happened to you?" Gilbert could only stare at her in stunned silence, until he realized he was looking into the eyes of someone who had been shattered. This whole power play – the phone, the threats, the knives – was just her attempt to try and glue back the pieces.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, blade nicking his skin as he spoke. "I can't tell you."

"No," she growled, her voice lowering to a ragged hiss. "You don't get to make that call. You didn't wait for twenty-three years, only to be abandoned then raped by Nazi officers. You didn't watch your people being dragged from their homes and slaughtered in the streets like animals. You weren't locked in a gas van and driven halfway across the continent haunted by the screams of the dead. You didn't cling onto the sliver of hope that despite the hatred reeking from every nation in Europe calling for his death, that the love of your live was still alive. You didn't have to sit idle and watch him sell himself to the devil just to rescue his idiot brother, and you didn't plead for him to save himself only for him to look you dead in the eye and ask for your name. No, Gilbert – you can tell me what happened to you that summer, because I of all people have the fucking right to know."

It was as if a thick veil had been lifted from Gilbert's mind. An onslaught of memories crashed into him with such force that he could barely process them all – the silhouette of a woman standing with knives drawn in the snow, the quiet sobs coming from her seat on the train, a wry smile as he dropped an ice-cream cone on the street, a laughter that rang through night air like silver bells… the shift of a silken nightgown falling to the floor, smooth hands roughing up the muscles in his chest, lips peppering down his neck in feverish heat and an unquenchable desire for more…

"Hey, Princess, I just had an Awesome idea."

"And what would that be?"

"You and me should get married. It's only a matter of time before we win this war, and when the dust settles I'll need a queen to help me run things. What do you say we split the continent – Asstria and his wench can have a third, Luddy the other third, and you and I get the Awesome third."

"You are an idiot."

"I'll take that as a yes."

Gilbert's chest rose and fell with gasps as he struggled to comprehend the meaning of these memories. Everything came back at once – the way her beauty floored him, how adorable she was when she laughed, how triumphant he felt every time he got her to smile... the nights spent with delicate fingers buried in his hair, his name being breathed hot into his neck. She was Natalia Arlovskaya: the infamous younger sister of Ivan Braginski, the untamable, sharp-witted, knife-wielding goddess. She was his Princess – the only person he had ever loved, and the only woman he could ever see himself sharing a life with.

And he had forgotten her.

Gilbert knew there was nothing he could say to remedy that fact. All he could do was to choke out her name: "N...Natalia..."

The knife shook so much that it cut into his skin, and he could feel warm blood zigzagging down his neck. "Answer my question!"

Gilbert closed his eyes. Of all the things to forget… Oh Gott, what did they do to her… There was no question about it now, she needed to know the truth. He decided to make his answer as quick and efficient as possible.

"Hitler tried to kill me."

"Why," she pressed, voice shaking. "Why you, and not the others?"

"Because I was an albino. I was a deformity, an Undesirable; I wasn't pure German."

"That doesn't explain why you forgot me," she hissed.

Gilbert swallowed; she seemed unsurprised so far. "On the night of June 24th I was captured by the SS and shipped to Auschwitz concentration camp. They kept me in a starvation cell for months, then gassed me with hundreds of Soviet POW's. When they dragged out the bodies and found me alive, the SS used me as a live specimen for medical experiments."

"That still doesn't explain – "

"I'm getting there. During my time at Auschwitz, I started getting these visions. But they weren't of my people – they were of Jews all across Eastern Europe. I saw them being dragged into the ghettos and shot in ditches. It felt real, like I was there. The visions got worse as time went by, and even after Luddy rescued me from the labs they wouldn't go away. It was then I realized my representation had switched. I was no longer East Prussia – I now represented the persecuted of Europe."

"That's impossible," she breathed.

"That's exactly what Luddy said. He expected me to give up and meet him on the front, but I was obsessed with the drive to save my own people. By the time he left me at our old place in Berlin, I had no intention of finishing the war."

"And Hungary?"

"I was using her apartment to hide Jews in Budapest. She found us after staggering home starved and frost-bitten from Stalingrad. Having watched the Nazis lead her men to slaughter on the front, she decided to help me. We rerouted trains and infiltrated ghettos until the war ended, then helped the Allies liberate camps." Gilbert knew how absurd the story sounded; even now those years seemed a distant nightmare – another world that was far too cruel, too hellish to ever intersect with the Europe he knew.

"Th-that – th-that still doesn't explain…" Her voice cracked and her teeth bared in a grimace. "Why did you forget me?"

"I wasn't myself during the war, Nat. You have to understand, I barely remember anything we did – I didn't even remember Liz was with me until you brought it up. It was just this… nightmare, a feeling of struggling to survive every single day. And after being locked in the dungeon for seven years, those memories have replayed again and again until I couldn't even tell what was real anymore. I've been so lost…" He laughed bitterly. "I didn't even know what East Germany was. I didn't even know that I still had people. My head had been so fucked up by the war that I couldn't even feel them until I set foot in my own country. The first East German I met, I had to touch his face to prove to myself that it was real.

"Ever since Russia dragged me out of that dungeon kicking and screaming, I've been trying to put the pieces back together – to salvage the shards of my old life that the war stole from me. I thought that Ludwig hated me for abandoning him, but now I know that he doesn't. I thought I was a dead nation condemned to suffer in that hell of memories as eternal punishment, but now I know that I'm still responsible for millions of East Germans. And it's not fair, and I can't explain why it happened, but for some reason the war stole you, too. A-and I can't imagine how much that sucked, and I'm sorry. But… I'm trying. I'm trying so hard to get it all back."

At last the knife retreated, and she stepped away. All the ferocity in her face had vanished, her posture slumped in defeat. "So Toris was right," she whispered. "You never loved me."

"You know that's not true – "

"Oh don't give me your sentimental bullshit," she snarled. "You remembered the people who were important to you, the people you depended on to get through every day. And I wasn't on that list, so I didn't make the memory cut."

"That's not how it works," Gilbert growled. "Luddy meant the world to me, I had spent two centuries raising and protecting him. But the drive to save the Jews had possessed me so much that I literally stood on a hill facing Berlin and turned away, knowing that Russia would show him no mercy. I left my little brother alone to be raped, Nat. Does that sound like something I would do to someone 'important' to me? My punishment in representing the Undesirables wasn't just experiencing the pain they went through – it was having to turn my back on the people I truly cared about, in the name of fixing my own mistakes." Gilbert's voice cracked as he said, "Please, Nat. Whatever I said to you in Potsdam – whatever 'forces' gave me that representation and stole you from my memory – that wasn't me. Y-you – you think I would choose this? You think I wanted to give up my life's work to run around Europe taking bullets for strangers?" His gaze darted to the elongated scar on his arm, then Gilbert forced himself to look her in the eye. "You called me the Awesome Prussia. B-but I haven't said that word in eleven years, since the day they locked me up in that starvation cell. P-please… the war stole enough from me as it is. I don't want to lose you, too."

A thick silence hung in the air. Gilbert watched as the tears she had been fighting back spilled over the corners of her eyes in shimmering streams. Natalia slowly shook her head, voice barely an audible crack. "You lost me the day you asked for my name." Then she spun on her heel and picked up the phone, the rotary clicking as she spun it to dial a number.

Panic shot through Gilbert's veins. "Wait, w-what are you doing!?"

She didn't answer, smearing the tears from her face with the back of a hand as she brought up the phone to her ear. Gilbert could hear the long tones of the line ringing. He pulled uselessly at the ropes, the chair clattering on the floor. "Y-you can't do this to me! I have to see Ludwig, I – " his voice grew shrill with panic, "I haven't seen him in seven years, Nat, do you even know what that's like!?"

"I know exactly what that is like," she said evenly. "I have not seen mine in six."

Gilbert took a breath to ask another question, but he heard the muffled click of the phone being answered.

"Allo?"

"Da, brother, it is me."

"Have you found him?" Even over the crackled speaker of the phone, Gilbert could hear the urgency in Russia's voice. Natalia's gaze slid in his direction. Bloodshot eyes burned with an icy hatred that shot a chill down his spine.

"Please," he whispered. "Natalia – "

A smirk crossed her face as she said, "Da."

No… no, no, NO, how could she do this to me?! This is just a giant mistake, she doesn't understand!

"Thank you, sestra, I knew that I could trust you. You will bring him back as agreed, da?"

"Of course, brother," Natalia said, her tone lifting in cheer. She hopped up onto the desk and twirled a loose strand of hair around one finger. "You know, Vanya, it occurred to me that such a service as tracking down Prussiya should not be provided free of charge. I did just waste my New Year watching him goggle over beer and unattractive women."

Gilbert frowned; what was her angle here? He could hear the nervousness in Russia's voice as he said, "What is it that you would like, sestra?"

"If I am to capture Prussiya for you," she said sweetly, "You will allow me to stay in your house again."

There was a pause. "And if I don't?"

"Well, I suppose that the next world meeting will be about why Prussiya and Germany are suddenly living together," she sang, her tone mockingly innocent.

Gilbert's eyes widened. No way – she's blackmailing him? He knew one thing about the Eastern Slavic siblings, and it was that they were virtually inseparable. But judging by what Natalia had said earlier, she had been banned from living at Russia's mansion for six years. Gilbert stared at her in horror – The Belarusian perched on the desk was no longer the quick-witted woman he had fallen in love with – she was a ruthless manipulator who had wrapped both he and Russia around her finger with nothing but a knife and a telephone.

There was another stretch of silence before Russia ground out over the phone, "Fine. But Katya will be coming back, too."

"I never said she was excluded."

"You don't have the authority to," he snapped. "Хорошо. I will see you in a week, then."

"Three days."

"Five."

"Done." Natalia smiled, and Gilbert saw a cruel spark of victory in her eyes. "До свидания, Vanya."

"Все," was Russia's gruff farewell before the line cut off. Natalia must have noticed the puzzled look on Gilbert's face. "Vanya and I have… conflicting interests." She set the phone back on the receiver with a click.

Gilbert had no idea what those interest might be, and frankly he didn't care – he had bigger problems to worry about. "You're not really going to send me back to that damned mansion, are you?" He let out a nervous laugh. "I mean, if Russia has to let you live at his place that means you'll be stuck with me."

"The mansion?" she said in flawless German. "Now why on earth would you go there?"

Gilbert started – he had taught her a little German during the Great War, but her accent and grammar was much better than he remembered. Only a second later did he register the actual meaning of the sentence, and a cold feeling settled in his gut. No... you wouldn't dare.

Natalia pressed a button on the desk, and a loud buzzer rang throughout the room. She slid off the edge, heels clacking on cement as she walked around him to come up behind the chair. She lifted the gag from his shoulders and pulled it tight across his mouth, breath cool against his bare neck. "If you're wondering how I learned to speak your language so well," she purred, still in his native tongue. Gloved hands roughed over his shoulders and nails dug into his uniform as she hissed: "Ask the demons you once called soldiers."

Just then footsteps stormed through the hall, and the door to the office burst open. The nails and cool breath retreated as Natalia stepped back. Rough hands clamped around Gilbert's shoulders as knives sawed through the ropes. The moment they loosened he jumped to his feet, but a fist cut across his face. Gilbert could barely regain his balance before a baton was shoved into his gut. He keeled over, spit soaking the gag as he sagged into the grips of the agents. His uniform was yanked down his shoulder, then Gilbert felt the sharp prick of a needle. He looked sideways to see a huge syringe sticking out of his arm, a clear liquid lowering in the bottle as it filled his veins.

Oh fuck... fuck no, not again! He tried to twist out of the agents' grip, but one of them punched him in the gut and he keeled over with a moan. Gilbert looked up at Natalia, eyes watering in pain as they dragged him out of the room. Please… p-please don't do this to me…

She only met him with a cold gaze before turning to face the window. The last image Gilbert saw of Natalia was her silhouetted form against white light, a cigarette balanced between her fingers as she took a lighter from her pocket.

The metal door slammed shut and Gilbert's muffled grunts echoed in a dimly lit hallway lined with prison cells. Amid his kicking and writhing, the gag slipped off his mouth. He spit out the fabric and screamed, "I LOVE YOU, NATALIA! SO WHILE YOU'RE ENJOYING BARGAINED TIME AT YOUR BASTARD OF A BROTHER'S HOUSE, YOU JUST REMEMBER THAT!"

Then a sharp pain exploded in the back of his head, and everything went black.

History Notes:

МГБ - Abbreviated in Russian for the Ministry of State Security, the МГБ is an earlier version of the KGB that operated from 1946-1953. They conducted espionage and counterespionage, as well as maintained control of the entire Eastern Block. Their agents and informants were planted in collective farms, factories, local governments, as well as the upper levels of Soviet bureaucracy. Between 1945 and 1953 more than 750,000 Soviet citizens were arrested and punished, many under fabricated charges of "suspicion of espionage." (I made a historical error and called them the NKVD in the first chapter, although these two agencies served the same purpose under Stalin.)

Stasi - The East German secret police force operated in the GDR from 1950-1990. Like the МГБ, the Stasi infiltrated every corner of East German society. Their informants were tram conductors, janitors, doctors, nurses and teachers. They used brutal methods of arrests and beatings until the 70's, when they began to use a form of phycological harassment called Zersetzung. They are considered one of the most effective and repressive intelligence agencies to have ever existed.

Semyon Ignatev - Ignatev was Minister of the МГБ, and played a large role in the Doctor's Plot, which began in September of 1952 and was revived later in January of 1953. After several Soviet politicians died under Kremlin doctors' watch, a conspiracy arose in which they were accused of undermining Soviet authority. Hundreds were arrested and tortured. (Ignatev also makes an appearance in DITR draft 2.)

Gilbert in the Holocaust - Gilbert's explanation here was a very, VERY summarized version of his full story which will be told in DITR draft 2. All of the history notes regarding his experience can/will be found in those chapters.

AN: And ladies and gentlemen, this marks the end of Око за Око Part I! I do apologize, as this story will again go on hiatus until DITR draft 2 is completely finished and posted. After all, this is the sequel, and I can only spoil so much ;) I truly am almost done, as I only have about four chapters left to write. I would LOVE to have a beta reader – the position is still open for anyone who is interested! Thank you everyone for your incredible patience with me, and I will see you in a different story! :)