Those sharp, crystal blue eyes that everyone seemed to love or despise. Observing so silently, always all-seeing. The same man who had crushed the world beneath his palm, Daviat Schulz.

In the halt of war in America, you are taken captive. However, you don't end up in the extermination room. Two bulky men with faces of steel drag you into a rather luxurious room, soothing albums of Frank Sinatra playing on the record player.

A man sits in a plush leather chair, facing away from the door.