1 Hour....

....into the room, the cell? Who knows...


the Direktorenschelle entered the cavity, Otto Schwarz Von Blitzenkruz leading, of course....

"Honestly Otto, purred Direktorix Katarin Lahmia, this funny little contraption reminds me so much of the grave - so resrticted - not unlike one's coffin dear..."

"Oh shut up Kat, slurred Direktor de Kavallerie Rupert 'de Poupre' de Perignon - get over it"

The combined Direktors of the greatest and most controlled nation in the known and unkown world visibly blanched...the same old, same old, same old....

The Direktors had entered a booth and with a single turn of the key, Lietung-Direktor Otto Schwarz Von Blitzenkruz had began their descent. The booth was rectangular in shape, closed and confined, sounds, gears(?) something then set the booth in motion, a downward motion; a descent - into what? Where?..

The lurching booth came to a stop, another turn of a key and the Direktors exited the booth. The 'room', if that is what it could be described as, was cut out of granite....in the centre a table....table? Cut into an intimate design, 6 sided - but unequal sides....it was longer than wide, the shorter ends were roughly the same width, yet both long-sides were unequal in length.....angled at 1/3 to 2/3....carved, perfect, exquisite.

The walls were dank, moisture coated, cave-like, but not a cave - the smell: musty, ancient, so old.......

"Herr Blitzenkruz, might I ask, where are we?" Voiced Direktor Heinrich Wurzen.
"A question? Oh, you question ME?"
"This is our place, none may enter, none may breach our security - the Governor has decreed we are to attend here - for what reason I know not - there are, no questions, only answers. There is only one way in and one way out - the same way, we wait Heinrich...."

"AHHH - HHeerr Direktor, stammered Ansbach-Hoffen, wwwhhat iss...."

As one, the Direktors gazed where Walther Ansbach-Hoffen pointed, stupefied - shock? Yes. Horror? No. Amazement? Of course....

The figure standing before them , moved, ever so slightly to reveal itself....man-sized...heavy dragoon-styled black boots, black trousers, blood-red shirt, heavy black storm-coat, black broad-brimmed hat, with silver-belted buckle about the top, cross belts, carrying 13 small cylinders across the chest...a sheathed sword worn on the baldric...stansing perfectly still. The man chewed on an old cheroot, he was also pointing a pair of beautiful black-polished, silver-bound repeating pistols directly at the Direktors....a flinty, steel-eyed gaze bore down on the singular, most powerful gathered group of people in the nation....

...."Hi Guys - long time, no see 'eh?" 

GASP!

STEINER!~!