The skies were dark and filled with storm clouds that were pouring rain, the sun was blocked out completely making the weather even colder than usual in Auschwitz, especially since it was winter. Ludwig Beilschmidt was walking down beside one of the ten-foot high barbed-wire fence, on the other side was a large empty field, other than the young Jews forced to work in it, it was empty. The towering, pale, Aryan, German's green military uniform was drenched in the freezing rain, but his face remained emotionless and his usually glowing blue eyes dim, most likely with hatred and depression, where now fixated on the now weak, freezing, and close to death Jews. "This is disgusting, children forced to work in fields, burning people alive, or filling their lungs with poisonous gas, and if they don't kill them with that it's experiments That revolting bastard ," The disgusted German screamed in his head, wanting to pull out the pistol that was resting against his thigh and place the barrel in his mouth the pull the trigger, but his thoughts were interrupted by another voice, "Sir, the Fuehrer has ordered you to his base in Berlin!," another, younger German soldier was behind Ludwig standing straight and shivering, half because of the cold, and half because of Ludwig's non expressive face. Ludwig waited a few moments before replying, turning his attention to the soldier behind him, "Ja, tell him I will get there as soon as possible," the much taller German stated in a monotone voice, with what seemed like the heaviest accent on the earth.
"Lovi~! I'm leaving now!! I'll be back in maybe a little less than a week,arrivederci!!," The young, small, auburn haired, slightly dark skinned, North Italian, Feliciano, shouted to his older, brunette, dark skinned, South Italian brother, Lovino. "Si, si! I heard you!! I'm only a foot away you idiota, and don't call me Lovi!!!," the annoyed South Italian shouted back, but he went unheard as the small, but agile, North Italian had already slipped out of the front door, running down to train station with two large leather suitcases in his hands and the warm sun beating down on his skin. Feliciano was dressed semi-formally, his attire consisted of a Midnight black shirt, a Baby blue tie, and matching blue pants with a black leather belt and black leather shoes. His goofy smile was being adored by the women at the train station, he would look over to them and wave and they would blush, finally the charming Italian man boarded the train and went to his cabin. After he put his suitcases away he took a seat on the scarlet leather, soon the train began to jerk into motion and it was somehow soothing to Feliciano, soon with the motion and the warmth of the sunlight he feel asleep sliding down the seat onto his side as the train made it's way to another destination.
In Ludwig's lodgings, which was basically an apartment, but it was only meters away from the Death Camp, so it was no where near what his real home was like, he was finishing packing a few more formal clothes and his military uniform. Soon as he finished with his packing he walked to his restroom and shut the door behind him quickly, but not slamming it. Ludwig looked into his own reflection, staring into his own piercing cyan blue eyes, then looking at his pale cold as clay skin, and then finally his light golden blonde hair. He was an Aryan, the exact thing the Fuhrer wanted, rage began to fill his core, he continued staring at the mirror, he gripped onto the sides of his sink with a deadly one, his rage consumed him and in less than thirty seconds he raised his muscular arm, pulled it back, then lunged it forward, causing the glass to shatter in to all sorts of sharp shards, most embedding themselves in Ludwig's now bleeding fist, even with all of the anger and pain he was feeling at the moment, his face still remained completely emotionless, but behind his eyes was a tortured soul, he just wanted to end himself, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The suicidal man cleaned and bandaged his wounds and then grabbed a coat and an umbrella and his suitcases making his way to the train station, ignoring the pouring rain and the stabbing pain in his fist.