Icebergs[Closed|Otto Berg]

After the party—and with the servant girl in tow—Otto had moved on to Kreuzberg where they had ended up in a wonderful establishment where the ceiling had been painted gold and where Otto’s order had been prepared by a very convincing transvestite behind the bar. There had been a certain intimacy to the place despite the throngs of people that spilled out of the double doors and onto the street, an eclectic blend of music blaring out of the speakers both inside and out but not so loud as to drown out the dull roar of conversation. From the looks of things, Otto suspected it had been an apothecary once, long ago, and to be perfectly honest, he thought it was pretty cool. They had been wildly overdressed. Nobody had seemed to mind.

He awoke in his hotel room sometime after noon the next day and she was gone, leaving only a lingering scent of woman, a few puddles in the shower and a small hand-written note with a phone number on it. Not surprising, she had a job, after all. He rolled out of bed and hopped into the shower, got dressed quickly—happy to be out of the tuxedo and back into something a little more casual: jeans, a t-shirt and a suit jacket—and after a moment’s deliberation, slipped the note into his back pocket. You never knew.

Then he was out the door, the Do Not Disturb sign back off the door handle, and into the sunlight of early May Berlin. It wasn’t bad—Gothenburg would be frigid this time of year—but he had to admit that there was a certain allure to Japan (insofar as his rather short stay there had shown): the seasons there were almost stereotypically good. It was cold when it was supposed to be cold. It was warm when it was supposed to be warm. The word lagom leapt immediately to mind. Funny, how such a stereotypically Swedish word could be applied so perfectly to the weather, of all things, of an island chain on the opposite side of the planet.

His stomach rumbled as he donned the aviators and he started off in a random direction, stopping to buy two brezels from one of that big bakery chain they had in Germany; one with salt and one with cheese. He munched on them idly as he wandered through the streets of central Berlin, eventually finding himself at Brandenburger Tor, where he noticed with a certain dismay that the scourge of western civilization, fucking Starbucks, seemed to have wormed its way across the Atlantic and into some prime real estate. A crying shame, really, but he went in and ordered a shitty triple espresso all the same, sipping it with measured disappointment as he sauntered past the Brandenburg Gate and went off to look at the bullet holes in the Reichstag facade.

He was overcome by a sense of he-didn’t-know-what standing there drinking his awful American coffee looking at a very real, very tangible piece of history, and his mind went to the taut conversation he had taken part in the night before. That’s what it was: powerlessness. Just like with the bullet holes in this majestic building, things could have gone so much better if people had just thought things through. Berlin was a pretty depressing place, all things considered.

Otto was getting moody and he knew it, so he finished the "coffee" tossed the cup in the nearest trash can and decided he was going to go look at where Clive Owen’s character watched his colleague die horribly in front of the Hauptbahnhof in The International. Or he would have, had he not heard a voice calling out to... To him?

Iceberg, that was a clever one that he hadn’t actually heard before, and he turned towards the voice—a girl’s—and his disappointment was as clear as day when he saw who it was.

‘Oh,’ he said, looking crestfallen. ‘It’s you.’


°666

“It's me!” the blonde’s radiant smile countered the disappointed look of the boy’s. She gave an exhale from all that wandering around - this pregnancy was wearing her out faster than she realized.

“I like you,” perhaps too strong of a word. A twinkle in her emerald eyes as she continued and took a few steps forward. “Perhaps things came off a ‘lil sour at the party and I want to make it up to you by speaking more privately.” he was probably still annoyed at her, but that was okay, she was willing to come way out here to look for a single Quincy that spoke out his thoughts.

“That is if you have more important things to do and leave this poor girl at a loss.” she interlaced her fingers behind her back and gave him the biggest puppy dog eyes she could give.

Freyleif gave the boy time to think about it as her curious eyes wandered around the various buildings. Berlin wasn’t her cup of tea - sure the Reichstag facade looked nice - but she still missed her homeland and the open barrens that had a sort of mysticism about them.

“Well?” Freyleif’s gaze moved back to Otto’s eyes. “Let’s talk this over someplace, aye?”


***
207403-610

He paused for a moment, frowning behind his aviators, then all the tension in his shoulders released with a long and drawn-out sigh.

‘Alright,’ he said, inclining his head at the pavilion cafe just off the Reichstag’s front lawn. ‘We can talk there.’

It was a touristy sort of place—Otto doubted very much any self-respecting Berlin native would be caught dead in here with the middling quality of the confections and the exorbitant prices—but at least here he didn’t have to order a triple espresso to get a proper cup of coffee. He found himself missing Dixie and his adventures there a great deal from time to time, but if there was one thing he didn’t miss, it was the fact that the yanks wouldn’t know a good cup of coffee if it bit them in the ass. Still, there were other things they did well. Like iced tea. Or Georgian girls. Iced tea with Georgian girls, in fact, was one of Otto’s favorites, but that, he supposed, was neither here nor there right now.

They sat down at a table in the corner and from there, at least, they could enjoy the view. With his sunglasses safely stashed in his breast pocket, he looked around—doing his best to avert his gaze from the back of the Soviet memorial barely visible through the trees, then finally settled on the girl in front of him.

‘Jaha,’ he began, his usual easy smile nowhere in sight, ‘what is it you want to talk about, then?’


°256

Freyleif contained herself from squealing as Otto agreed to speak with her at a cafe. She gave a firm nod and followed the boy to a pavilion cafe, seated herself and picked up the menu. The blonde gave a squint as she could barely read German - mostly just staring at the pictures to get the idea. She ordered herself a knickerbocker glory right off the bat when her eyes gazed upon the ice cream sundae and a grin spread across her lips.

“I’ve thought a lot about what you said last night and came to the conclusion that it is best we should remain ‘low profile’” she air quoted, keeping that persistent smile. “Over the morning I sent out an edict to all the Quincy, hopefully, they will listen.” she blew the fringes out of her face as she moved onto the next subject.

“I want to know more about you, Otto, can I all you Iceberg?” she couldn’t help but giggle before becoming serious again. “What is your take on the Quincy world? I see you as someone who feels like they're being thrust out into playing a representative unwillingly,” she kept eye contact with the brown-haired male and slowly her smile faded. “People like you truly see things more realistically, I would love to have someone like you in the Quincy Order but I will not force you if you do not wish too, but I think you’ll be missing out. Don’t you think we should stand united as one?” she relaxed back in her chair, she hoped his answers were positive, or at least constructive and that the conversation didn't head south.

275+610=885

He sat and listened in silence, his arms crossed as he leaned back into his chair until at last the teenager seemed to finish. So after her complete dismissal of his father’s (admittedly sound) advice she had turned around and done precisely what he had recommended she do anyway and now she was hoping to make amends?

He’d be surprised but this wasn’t the first time he had watched some foolish young girl do something like this. It seemed almost in their nature to say one thing, do another and think a third; it was no wonder most sensible men didn’t put much weight in what their female counterparts said. Or did. Or thought. On some level he wanted to reach across the table, grab her by the shoulders and bellow into her face—something along the lines of of course I was right you stupid tart but he was a gracious victor.

‘I did say so, didn’t I?’ he remarked, the faintest hint of acid underneath the genial tone. Plenty gracious, or so he thought. Well, compared to the alterna—

He frowned at her. He was a thief, a liar, philanderer and a long list of other negatives but if there was one thing Otto couldn’t just back down from it was insults to those he held dear, and despite what anyone thought, family was family—even for Otto.

‘You said some very rude things about my father and sister’—Freyleif had been referring to Otto with the heir comment, he knew, but Sofia was next in line and Otto had no intention whatsoever of ever challenging that—‘and as it happens I rather like my sister. I think the phrase you used was upstart backwater clan.’ He loved taking the high ground like this, it was so satisfying given his usual moral bankruptcy.

‘The implied accusation, I think, was one of cowardice. Perhaps arrogance. Maybe both. I think what you forgot in the heat of the moment was that discretion is the better part of valor. You see, my family was never culled. We don’t hate the Shinigami and they don’t hate us. That’s what you people don’t realize: at the end of the day, what Quincy are and what they do isn’t normal. It’s not good. We don’t create, we destroy. Harmony isn’t in our playbook. And nature, well, nature has a way of dealing with things that disrupt the balance. For us, it means the sharp end of a sword.’

Now, at last, he unfolded his arms and took a sip of his coffee. Bitter. Strong. Perfect.

‘Someone once told me time is a flat circle. You’ll do the same things your ancestors did, and the Shinigami will come for you again. Only this time they might not leave any of you alive. So sure—unite if you want to. There’s no harm in that. But keep a low profile all the same. Don’t give them an excuse to kill you in your sleep. History has a tendency to forget the losers.’

That fucking memorial on the other side of those trees was proof enough of that.


°521

Freyleif’s hands twitched at the words spewing from Otto’s mouth and gave an exhale as he said his part. Her chest was burning again and she absentmindedly reached to grab it tightly like she had some kind of acid burn, but it wasn’t entirely what he said that got her feeling this ill. Shaking the feeling off, Freyleif just watched Otto and smiled weakly.

“I believe the Quincy have hidden for far too long just because of their abilities. And yes, we are also our own worst enemy.” the blonde gave a slow rise and fall of her shoulders. “Love? Do you truly 'love' them? Or are you just trying to protect them? So I see, you love your family, aye?” she rose a brow at the mention of his family but did not truly believe him. She sat there taking in his acid dripping tone and insults, after all, she was used to these kinds of Quincy - it reminded her of herself a few years ago at the Summons.

“Sure, your family can be special and never be harmed by the Shinigami, although let me tell you: mine wasn’t so lucky nor was I even part of my family’s ‘Clan’ because of my fucking blood purity. Perhaps they deserved it, I do not know nor do I care to look into the past of their mistakes and denounce them.” she replied, unsure if that was even worth saying after seeing how uncaring this man seemed to be, she had nothing to hide.

“We do create as well as destroy, although many take the destructive easy route. It’s our way of life, we’re still only human and make mistakes.” she narrowed her eyes. “ I do not fear the sword.” in the back of her mind she could almost hear Obsession’s words on how incompetent the Shinigami were - and her too. The teen shuddered as that compulsion within her soul stirred and she cringed a bit before shaking her head once more to shake the feeling off.

“I would rather the Shinigami come after me if the Quincy can't stand up for themselves,” she stressed before moving on. “Even the losers can come back and make history.” I am proof of that, she wanted to say but held her tongue. Her finger tapped on the edge of the table and observed Otto for a moment before looking at the sundae a split second in contemplation.

“You can damn me all you want, Otto, but I still stand for protecting my people no matter the cost. I may be inexperienced and not as famous as Weylin von Wolfstein or cynical and crazy as Markus Hohenfel but I will continue to push forward and bear this burden.” and by Odin’s missing eye I hope I require this wisdom to do better, the blonde thought.

She let the silence hang in the air knowing more arguments would probably be hurled her way, she couldn’t even eat her sundae as she felt sick to her stomach. Those emerald eyes did not lose their luster, though, as she watched Otto and spoke once more, “Otto, what do you wish to achieve for yourself? I doubt we can sit here and be philosophical all day.” she grinned.

540/885=1425

‘I’m not damning you,’ he insisted. ‘And having never met either of those guys, I can’t possibly hope to compare you to them. You’re the queen of the Order, and I’m going to have to take the same stance as my father on this: you can do what you want, but I’m going to give you my advice, solicited or not. Open hostility with the Shinigami isn’t going to end well. I think you know that already. And no matter how brave you are, as a leader you must consider that not everyone who follows you is as brave or as strong as you are. Despots always a leave a very particular kind of legacy. Not to mention you’re about to have twins.’

Otto shrugged. ‘As for me, I’m a simple man with simple pleasures. Ambition was never my strong suit. I’m not very fussy, either. I like to eat well, kiss beautiful girls, drive fast cars and shoot big guns. That’s just about all I care about, as it happens. In a more immediate sense, I’d very much like to return to Japan. I didn’t think I’d like it there, but it’s a nice place. Besides, Germany puts me in a shitty mood. It’s so...’

He paused, his finger idly tracing the edge of the coffee cup’s handle. How to best phrase it?

‘Well, put bluntly: this place is committing collective suicide, glorifying its enemies and demonizing those who love it the most. Sweden’s not much different in truth, but it’s more fervent here. You won’t find memorials like Tomb of the Unknown Rapist over there’—he gestured vaguely in the direction of the Soviet memorial—‘in Sweden, that’s for sure. I can’t bear to be around that. It’s in very poor taste. I just hope you and your Order won’t end up doing the same thing by picking a fight with someone you can’t hope to win against.’

A moment or two passed, and he sighed. ‘Yeah, fuck this place, man,’ he muttered, the resignation in his voice as clear as day.

‘Why do you ask?’


°348

Freyleif gazed in the direction of the Soviet memorial and gave a soft shrug of her shoulders, comparing her Order to that made her giggle and she shook her head before finally picking up her spoon, scooping up some ice cream, and taking a bite.

“I don’t know if I should be amused or not. You came way out here to relay a message and then just leave back to the simple life.” the blonde smiled up at Otto not much insulted by his words. “I was just interested in what you like to do in life, but it seems you're dead set on leaving this place.” she cringed a bit as her back was killing her and she shifted about in her chair trying to get comfortable.

“I won’t start hostilities towards the Shinigami unless they make the first move. Speaking of, they have made their presence known and even have a kill order against us for Odin’s beard knows why, we’re really not much of a threat to garner that much attention, so watch out if you’re in Japan.” she frowned and thought about it a moment. It seemed the Quincy really were set in their old ways and refusing to unite under one cause and cared about their self-interests.

“Mm, If you ever change your mind I would love to have you join the Order. I think you would get the training you would need and we’re not entirely like what you see in Germany.” she continued with a smile and dug into her sundae. “I won't keep you much longer, it's just a shame you have no interest in joining. If you have any questions for me, I'll answer them.”

284+1425=1709

‘A kill order, you say?’ He smirked at the pregnant queen, sipping his coffee. ‘And yet here we both are, still very much alive. When was the last time a Quincy died at a Shinigami’s hands? How many years ago could it have been? One? Ten? A hundred? Really makes me think.’ There was something in his tone that indicated quite clearly that he didn’t really give a shit.

‘And yes, of course I want to return to the simple life,’ he continued. ‘That’s the very least anyone should ever want. That’s what the Germans wanted after the Great War, what the Vietnamese wanted after America’s police action, the Iraqis after the Gulf War. War sucks. Always has, always will. I can guarantee you’ll feel the same the moment you start one. The only difference between you and I right now is that I already know it. You, on the other hand, will learn.’

But Otto already knew she wouldn’t listen. The swelling belly that was causing her discomfort was proof enough of what kind of person the leader of the Quincy Order was. Good advice, he suspected, was the kind of advice she didn’t heed, because somewhere deep down in that blonde head of hers, she felt she had something to prove. He could guess why, too—it didn’t take much, she had practically announced it herself with the pure-blood rant earlier. She had come from the wrong branch of the family and they had never let her forget it. He wondered what it must have been like to be singled out because of your heritage; he didn’t really know himself. Otto’s mother was from a pure-blood family but his father’s ancestors had intermarried with regular folk. Technically speaking, Otto was a far cry from pure himself, but he didn’t care. Back home, nobody did. Not the Swedes, not the Danes, not the Norwegians, and certainly not the Finns—despite them having the most reason to.

‘I appreciate the invitation but I’m just an envoy. I will remain an envoy. I’m your link to the North, or perhaps the North’s link to you. But if push ever comes to shove, I know which side I’m on, and it’s certainly not the Order’s.’

He pulled out his wallet and wedged a couple of Euros under his saucer—enough for both of them and then some—then rose to his feet.

‘Well, it’s been a pleasure,’ he lied, ‘but I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you to it. Got phone calls to make and plane tickets to book.’ He touched two fingers to his brow as farewell and sauntered out of the pavilion, leaving the queen alone with her elaborate ice cream.

He had finally decided what he wanted to replace his confiscated pistol with. Time to call Alvar.


°470

EXIT OTTO