Chapter 361: End of the Line
The beating heart of the woman palpitated with ferocity as she sprinted down the streets of Munich with all the speed her small stature could physically muster. Yet the clacking of the boots behind her maintained a steady and slow pace, almost as if he were walking casually.
Bumping into random strangers, or running into objects as she desperately fled the pursuit within the dead of night, during the thickest summer storm God could throw at the Bavarian Capital, Rosa Luxemburg’s heart damn near reached its limit.
She was the last of her comrades... Marxist conspirators and revolutionary socialists who, in Bruno’s past life, had been soundly defeated by the patriotic Freikorps during the chaos that followed the great war.
In this life, her fellow revolutionaries had been hunted down and slaughtered like rabid dogs by none other than Colonel Erich von Humboldt. They knew not the identity of the man which had pursued them. But nevertheless he came for them in the day, in the night, in the sun, wind, rain and snow.
It did not matter where they ran or where they hid. Like the shadow of death himself, Erich was lurking ever near, biding his time, and waiting to claim her for their lives. Despite the panic on her face, and the frantic speed with which she sprinted, nobody within Munich seemed to remotely care about the woman’s situation.
And eventually she found herself trapped exactly where Erich wanted her. She had run straight into an alleyway which led exactly to nowhere. And when she realized this the woman cursed out in her native tongue, before turning around to see that Erich, despite the measure pace of his stride was standing right in front of her.
He wore a long, black leather German trench coat, concealing his more formal attire. It was not a military uniform which Erich wore, but a black fitted three piece suit beneath his coat whose pocket he reached into as he pulled out a list of names, which was shielded from the torrential downpour of the heavens by the jet black umbrella he held within his hands.
The tone in his voice was callous, as he looked at the last name on a long list of those which had been crossed out prior to this moment. And after confirming the woman he was looking at was indeed his target, a sadistic smirk formed on the man’s face, along with a devilish glint in his blue eyes.
"Rosa Luxemburg, found member and one of the current leaders of the Spartacus League... Or should I say former leader. Well Rosa, you should know by now what the silence on the other end of your radio means.
They’re all dead... Karl Liebknecht, Clara Zetkin, and all the others of your filthy kind that have sought to ruin the fatherland and its victory in this Great War... It has been quite the effort, and has no doubt cost the lives of hundreds, if not thousands of your fellow conspirators. But here and now it ends with you...
Do you have any last words? Because now would be the time to speak them..."
Rosa Luxemburg took a defiant stance, almost as if she were in a scene from the cinemas, preparing her "heroic" last words that would live in infamy throughout history as a testimony to her resilience and resistance in the face of the death.