Well, they were back.
You know those conspiracy theories? About Hitler? Argentina? This may not be ringing any bells but its relevant; it was all really quite contrived and a bit of a stretch. Since the moment dubbya-dubbya-two ended, a single question loomed for much of the world: 'Where did those Nazis go?'
Everyone had their opinion on the matter and depending on who you asked just about everyone was a potential Nazi post-2016.
The truth of the matter was the with the fall of the Third Reich, and Germany officially submitting its unconditional surrender, those loyal to the actual Nazi regime consolidated their forces and rallied to Antarctica; word of their very existence confined to the frantic shitpost of online conspiracy forums.
Subzero temperatures, feverish zeal and a love for the esoteric arts had transformed a forgotten batch of race-purist remnants into something nigh undefeatable: Nazi-vampire necromancers.
The absurdity of it all would've made a hell of an action flick, even an animated OVA, had it not been a terrible nightmare made real. The day of nazi-vampire invasion was a blur: the streets overflowing with gore, hordes of rotten corpses and pearly-fanged Waffen S.S. sating their endless bloodlust while harmonizing to 'Erika'.
To be honest, it was the most excitement you'd had in some time, and could've ended pretty poorly for you; bar most of your family being consumed by the ever-encroaching wave of undeath.
When the world was still, the 'world', you weren't anyone special, but here? In this new hellish paradigm of the Fourth Reich, you were something of a guerilla war hero. Sabotaging supply lines, putting a wooden stake through key officials, burning coffins as the vampires slept during the day; it was all good fun.
While it may not have been fear, the Fourth Reich despised your very existence; a modern day, zombie-blasting, nazi-vampire staking Rambo. Things were going well, until they'd captured you during a failed escape.
You'd accepted your fate either as a brain-rotted pawn or long-tortured bloodbag, but no cigar; This blood-sauerkraut loving batch had other plans for you.
~~~
Your vision was hazy, red-tinted kaleidoscope. A single bulb - quite the cliche - swung lazily from the ceiling and offered the only source of illumination. Of course you'd been immobilized, bound in some harness-like bindings that almost resembled a straight jacket. When your vision did settle, it wasn't much of an improvement. The crude iron walls of this boxlike cell had been rusted by the thin coating of crusty, dried blood; that didn't bode well.
All in all, you weren't too impressed. After all, this world didn't exactly have too many prospects, and you harbored few illusions of your ultimate fate; the whole grimy, tetanus-ridden cell was so uninspired.
The rooms singular door creaked open, another harsh, artificial light filtering inward; the silhouette that framed it entirely unexpected.
"Zo," a tiny voice began, "You are zee one that has caused us zo much trouble, ja?"
Standing before you was a child, or at least what appeared to be one, wearing the black of an S.S. Waffen Elite; skull-adorned cap and all. It was prim, proper, and comically enough fitted to the little lady's pre-teen form. She shot you a fierce smirk, displaying a particularly long set of predatory fangs; curly blonde locks fell to the tops of her shoulders.
Pfftt! "You're it? Are we gonna have a pillow fight to the death?" It was bordering on painful to stifle your laugh, so you belted out anyways. What a cosmic joke this entire affair had been, and this girl was the punchline.
She did not take this slight well, adjusting a small pair of gold spectacles that rested on the bridge of her pert nose. "Aahh yes, ze 'wise-guy', as you oafish Americans would say." Her heeled boots resounded clacked against the floor. "My name is Olga Reitman; I vill be your vurst nightmare."
That broken English-German accent was what really did it for you, eyes teary with full-bellied laughter as the young vampiress attempted to rein in your antics.
"Look, I'm sorry, but it's a bit hard to take you seriously when you're standing there looking like a little kid..."
Olga took a step forward, looming over you menacingly. The tiny lips of the child-vampire curled into a snarl. "You are a fool, you know? You think you can make fun of me? Do you not zee the insignia of my rank? Or the number of skulls decorating the collar of my uniform?"
She leaned in close, the scent of blood and corruption heavy in the air.
"I am a lieutenant of the S.S. Waffen, and you will address me as such!"
You couldn't help but smile. "So you're a Nazi, huh? Well, you're a bit of a sore loser, aren't ya? 'Cause you lost the war, you know? All the best, but you've got a lot of catching up to do. Maybe you could get a job as a real estate agent, or a tax accountant, or a..."