11 Violence was out of the question; the only thing left to do was reason with him.

Says:

Violence was out of the question; the only thing left to do was reason with him. The pulp of a man bound to the wooden chair was Christof Fleischer, a Nazi spy sent to kill the president. Of course, Nazis had disbanded 5 years ago, but there have always been the few lingering followers trying to hold onto what they had. The U.S. had been trying to stomp out the remains for years, but only ever got the small fries. It didn’t help much to take out a few ants here, when there was an anthill somewhere else.

Christof was the answer to this problem. Their little knowledge of the faction’s sources was a hindrance, but Christof was quite a bit higher on the food chain compared to their other catches. They had been beating Christof for nearly an hour and nothing had come of it; he actually seemed to be enjoying it. The masochist Nazi scum.

“We’ve been pretty rough with ya here son. What says we lay off you for a bit?” the officer in charge said. “I think we can be a bit more reasonable, eh?”

Christof just smiled a bloody smile and let out a laugh.

“I think we’ll get along quite nicely if we can just get some of that information we’ve been asking about. We can offer you freedom, protection, anything. You name it we’ll give it. All we need to know is who you report to and where we might find them.”

Christof laughed even harder at this.

“What is it you want son?” the officer pushed on.

To this Christof responded, “You Americans are all the same. You think that I matter? Do you think that my life is important? I am just a part of the bigger picture, and I will gladly give my life for my beliefs.”

As he finished this last sentence something slipped out from under his tongue and he swallowed it. Within seconds he was dead and drool began to seep from his mouth. The officer couldn’t help but wonder why he had put up with all of the torture he had, but as the body was removed he felt like he was missing something.