German Red Prince

He has already begun to prepare a strategic plan, in which these orphans will be sent to various places to lie in wait until Germany calls upon them.

Thorne once told him that within ten years, another great war would break out in Europe, and Germany might not be so lucky then.

A sense of urgency compelled Thomas to take action as soon as possible, given that it was Thorne who had spoken.

His time together had made him realize what a far-sighted person His Highness was. Even if what His Highness said seemed outrageous, you still had to seriously consider it.

Thomas stared blankly at Fremont in the interrogation room. "Still holding on? Not bad, a good prospect." He nodded approvingly. "Looks like we made the right choice."

"Speak! Who is your contact! What is the intelligence!" The interrogator continued to ask questions, while others poured buckets of cold water on Fremont, relentlessly torturing him.

“I told you, I don’t know, I’m really not a German spy, I’m Russian, please spare me, I’m really not German.” Fremont’s voice grew weaker and weaker, but he still did not change his story and insisted that he was Russian.

"Alright, if this continues, someone will die. It's not worth it." Robert was still trying to persuade Thomas. He couldn't bear to watch any longer. After all, these were the children he was taking care of, and he felt really sorry for them.

"That's it. Tell the people inside to release him." Fremont has passed this test; he has held out long enough.

The handcuffs were removed. "You can go now," the interrogator said to him in German.

This is a treacherous method, testing whether you will become complacent at this moment. Even the most vigilant person can be careless, and some carelessness is often fatal.

Fremont didn't move, just staring blankly at the interrogator. He kept reciting poetry in his mind to keep himself awake. He had almost been careless just now, and fine beads of sweat appeared on Fremont's forehead.

“You can go now,” the interrogator said again in Russian.

Fremont then slowly got up, propped himself up on the chair, and slowly walked outside.

“Fremont!” the interrogator suddenly called out in German from behind him.

"You think the danger is over?" That's exactly what they want you to think, setting a trap to see if you'll fall for it.

Fremont didn't instinctively turn around, or even pause at all, but walked step by step toward the door and outside.

"He passed." Thomas smiled. He's a promising talent, worth nurturing.

Fremont opened the door and collapsed to the floor. Robert quickly grabbed a blanket and wrapped him up; Fremont's body was now as cold as ice.

"What were you thinking about just now?" Thomas asked, stepping forward.

Fremont, who was nearly falling into a coma, looked at Thomas and said, "If life deceives you, do not be sad or angry! Endure the days of misery, and believe me, joy will eventually come."

After saying that, he closed his eyes and fainted.

"Doctor, take him to see a doctor. Robert, take care of him these next few days and help him recover." Thomas said, then turned and left.

Endure these difficult days for now, and believe that joy will eventually come.

"Bang!"

A large door was opened, and everyone in the room held their breath, silently praying to God behind the iron bars.

The people imprisoned here are all heinous and cruel villains, whose very names are enough to terrify anyone. Yet here they are praying to God.

They swore they'd never been so devout in their lives. Only when people are in hell do they become genuinely sincere.

The people guarding them here are more terrifying than demons; even Satan would have to ask them for his autograph.

The man who entered had a cold expression as he stared at the trembling prisoner in the cell. He and the two men standing beside him were dressed in black uniforms, exuding an oppressive aura, like death itself, ready to claim souls.

"Bring him out."

The man raised his chin slightly towards the first cage on the left and spoke without a trace of emotion.

Those who weren't called breathed a sigh of relief and thanked God for sparing them from torment, while those whose names were called immediately fell into despair and began screaming in terror.

"Ah—, no—, don't come any closer—"

It's hard to imagine that a burly man with a fierce face, weighing over 200 pounds and standing nearly two meters tall would make such a sound, which clearly demonstrates just how terrifying this place is.

Hearing the burly man's terrified scream, the other man laughed instead, staring intently into his eyes as if he could see right into the depths of his soul.

"Stop yelling, the more you yell, the more excited I get."

"ah-----"

Upon hearing Heydrich's bizarre remarks, the man's voice rose another octave, a tone that would likely make even the most famous tenor in Germany pale in comparison.

Heydrich further subdivided the Stasi, selecting a group of elites from the city management team to be in charge of internal affairs. He submitted the application to Thorne and received a reply quickly.

"Heydrich's application has been approved. The Stasi has established a new Ministry of the Interior and simultaneously formed the Signal Vympel and Alpha Anti-Terrorist Forces."

Thorne also replied to Heydrich with the name of the personnel in the Ministry of the Interior—Gestapo.

To balance the power within the Stasi, Thorne established two armed forces: Signal Flag, directly under the Stasi, and Alpha Anti-Terrorism, under the Ministry of the Interior. After all, the Stasi was Thorne's trump card, and it was essential to maintain internal balance, as any one side becoming too powerful would create many unstable factors.

Moreover, Heydrich was too extreme and needed someone to keep him in check and take a more balanced view of the Stasi's internal affairs; otherwise, who knows what the department would become under his control.

Thorne didn't want his Stasi to eventually turn into an SS-like force; that would be too extreme.

Thomas is calm, meticulous, and very capable. He was one of the earliest followers of Thorne and can be considered a veteran, which makes him respected by others.

With him and Heydrich complementing each other, Thorne is now quite at ease with the Stasi.

Two Gestapo officers carried the burly man out of the cell. The man, who had given up resisting, could not control his legs and was dragged out of the cell.

As the cell doors closed once more, the prisoners, who had relaxed, began to tense up again. They had escaped this time, but what about next time? And the time after that? In this hell where there was no sunlight, there was never any hope.

They will endure endless torture here, just like Hammond, who has been tortured to the point of mental instability, sometimes quiet, sometimes shouting for help, but if he is chosen, he still cannot escape.

The prisoners stared at the large characters carved on the door—characters that would wake them every night, characters that would make their hearts tremble at the sight of them—"Welcome to the Gulag Hotel."

Who told you to be such heinous villains? Repent? Maybe in your next life!

Thomas, who was coming out, ran into Heydrich, who was escorting prisoners. Heydrich saluted Thomas, and the two greeted each other.

Seeing someone approach, the prisoner began to loudly beg Thomas for mercy again. Thomas merely glanced at the man with disgust, then said to Heydrich, "The kingdom's security has improved considerably recently, and Frankfurt is much quieter. Don't let it become like Berlin."

“Of course, after all, I’ve almost finished arresting them all, so they can’t cause any more trouble.” Heydrich smiled.

The Berlin Bill incident had a certain impact on the whole of Germany. Many people with ulterior motives took advantage of the situation to cause trouble in many German cities. However, no large-scale riots occurred in Frankfurt. Heydrich always managed to arrest these people before they could cause any trouble.

“We cannot let our guard down, and we must not fail His Highness Thorne’s expectations.” Thomas looked at Heydrich, and the two shook hands.

“For Your Highness, for Germany,” Heydrich replied.

He then took the prisoner to the interrogation room. Evil people will be punished by other evil people. To deal with these evil people, you can only make them afraid by being more evil than them.

“Fetzig, male, 45 years old, unemployed,” Heydrich said, flipping through the file.

"He has three murder cases under his belt and has committed multiple burglaries." Heydrich crossed his legs and continued flipping through the files.

"A Jewish family was robbed in their home, and three members were killed. The woman was pregnant, and the family's eight-year-old daughter was sexually assaulted for an extended period before her death?"

Heydrich paused at this point, looking at Fetzig with eagle-like eyes.

He was a man with a strong sense of "mental fastidiousness," which meant he was very arrogant. So when you see this part, you can imagine how angry Heydrich was at that time.

I never expected that he would receive such a "gift" after just one personal interrogation. Well then, there's no need to be polite.

“They are Jews! They are an inferior race, so what if I kill them! They deserve it! Let me go! Let me go!” Fitzger was still making a last-ditch effort.

“I don’t care about being inferior or not. All I know is that you killed a pregnant woman and raped a little girl. You are a disgrace to the German people. I can’t see any of the qualities that the German people should have in you. You don’t deserve to live in this world as a German.”

Heydrich said coldly that he could not tolerate anyone corrupting the fine qualities of the German nation. He was like a judge, sending those German scum to hell.

"You won't die, but don't be too glad, you'll soon find out how enjoyable death can be."

The people in prison were counting down the days. Why hadn't he returned yet? Had he died? But that was fine too; at least he was free.

Before these people could think any further, the cell door was opened, and what happened next was something they would never forget, and some of them even fainted.

Fezig was covered in whip marks, his face had been peeled off, and his entire face was covered in blood.

His eyes were gouged out, his ears were cut off, and even his penis was cut off and sewn into his mouth.

Throughout the entire process, Fezig remained conscious. He was injected with a large amount of drugs and clearly felt the pain, as this was the only way he could atone for his sins.

Fitzger died the next day, without a doubt; he couldn't have lived more than two days. However, besides him, others committed suicide in prison.

Hammond found a wire from somewhere and used it to cut his wrist. He was willing to endure such great pain and cut his wrist with a wire rather than continue living. The horror of this incident can be imagined.

If the Stasi are the shield, protecting the Kingdom of the Rhine from external enemies, then the Ministry of the Interior is the sharp blade, ruthlessly wielded against all villains.

"The sword and shield of the nation"

This is the motto of the Stasi, and the creed of all Stasi!

"The Kingdom of the Rhine will continue its campaign against organized crime, cracking down hard on criminal gangs and leaving no one unpunished, showing zero tolerance for evil forces. We will persist in making the campaign a regular practice to promote harmonious social development and safeguard the personal safety and legitimate rights of every citizen of the Kingdom of the Rhine."

"Recently, the campaign against organized crime has made significant progress. Urban management and law enforcement departments, in cooperation with the Royal Police, have dismantled 15 criminal organizations and 28 criminal gangs, arresting 145 individuals involved. The suspect in the Frankfurt terrorist attack, Fetzig, has been apprehended and sentenced to death by the Royal Court of the Kingdom of the Rhine! We hereby warn those involved in organized crime: confess and you will receive leniency; resist and you will face severe punishment. Surrender as soon as possible to receive lenient treatment! The hotline for reporting organized crime in the Kingdom of the Rhine is: ********"

—Rheinische Zeitung

Thanks to the Ministry of the Interior's "Operation Thunder," society in the Kingdom of the Rhine has finally stabilized, and the Unity of Germany Party has not caused any trouble for a long time.

Frankfurt's efficiency in handling cases was significantly better than Berlin's; the murderer of the Jewish family was caught so quickly and sentenced to death.

The Jews within the kingdom also breathed a sigh of relief, at least Germany still provided them with a place to stay, and the turbulent situation in the Kingdom of the Rhine returned to peace.

Prince Otto was not in such a good mood at the moment. It seemed that something had happened in Darmstadt recently. He sent people to investigate, and three people went. They either came back saying that there was no problem, or that an "accident" had occurred.

He had just received a report that the special envoy who was about to return had "died unexpectedly," killed in a car accident, and the perpetrator was also dead. This was too suspicious, considering that the identities of these special envoys were kept secret. This was very strange.

Otto was furious. How dare they lay a hand on him right under his nose? They really wanted to take advantage of him.

“Father, I’m going to Darmstadt.” Thorne bowed to Otto. “I want to have a good look at those people and see what they’re capable of.”

"Oh? You?" Otto looked at him with interest.

"How do you think you can beat them?"

“Father, the Stasi have found their informant in the palace; it was he who passed on the envoy’s identity to those people,” Thorne said.

Otto was somewhat surprised. "I didn't expect you to actually have some skills." He laughed. "Alright, then you see for me who's causing trouble in Darmstadt! Give them a good talking to."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Thorne bowed and withdrew.

Prince Otto watched his retreating figure, lost in thought.

"He truly has the air of Charlemagne." He smiled, rose, and left the palace.

Thorne secretly led the Stasi to Darmstadt, determined to defend the country with sword and shield!

Chapter 49 Alpha? Signal Flag? Rookie!

"Oh!"

"Ten rings!"

Fred steadied his breathing and then slowly moved to the side.

Nearby, cannons fired incessantly, shells raining down all around him. Machine guns roared, emitting deafening noise that constantly interfered with Fred's firing.

As a special forces soldier, he must not be affected by any environment on the battlefield. His eyes must only be on the target. Special forces must have strong physical and mental qualities.

"boom!"

A shell landed less than twenty meters to Fred's right, blasting a large crater in the ground and sending dust flying.

Fred exhaled and continued to slowly back away. He pulled the trigger, aimed at the target ahead, and then pulled the trigger.

"Boom!"

Gunshots rang out, bullets whistled through the air, shot out of the barrel, and hurtled forward with a sharp whistling sound!

"Ten rings!" the observer shouted, raising the red flag.

"call--"

Fred let out a breath and got up from the ground. He was wearing thick camouflage and equipment. He had panicked for a moment when a shell landed near him, but he quickly recovered. He was almost done for.

Goodness, it would be too tragic if he died on the training field.

However, in actual combat, no one cares if you are the strongest soldier or a German superman. A stray bullet from who knows where can take you down. Who can you blame for that?

In real combat, these things don't matter. On the battlefield, everyone is equal, and death will reap the life of anyone equally.

Fred wiped the blood from his face. A shell had just exploded next to him, and the debris from the blast had cut his face.

Fred is the captain of the Red Right Mobile Task Force, which is full of elites. Thorne told him when he was forming the special forces that in such an elite unit, not progressing is regressing.

As the team leader, he had to lead by example, so he had to train harder than the other team members. Otherwise, what qualifications did he have to be the team leader? In the special forces, seniority doesn't matter; they only recognize ability.

"Captain, we've got a job."

Vice-captain Walter August walked over to Fred, who was sitting there watching the other team members practice shooting, and said with a smile.