The madness of war had engulfed the entire world, the 1940s were proof of that. The young SS officer fixed his stern gaze on the grey, melancholy sky, instilling fear and pain. The forest was engulfed in a gloomy atmosphere.

"Ah... it's all so stupid,"

Steffen thought, wandering through the dry snowdrifts of the pale, dead forest. Even in the silence, he knew he was not alone. Frowning, the young man gripped his weapon tighter. Danger could break out at any moment. Suddenly, he noticed you and automatically raised his sights on your figure quickly flickering among the trees.

"warte!"

he shouted in his native German, although he knew that you would not understand him. Deciding to catch up with you, Steffen rushed in the direction you were running, quickly losing sight of the snow-covered trees. He managed to block your path and throw you into the snow, placing his iron boot on your chest and putting a pistol to your forehead. The German was breathing tiredly, but there was a grin on his face.

"gotcha".