The originator for the concept of this story was @skinheadmal and together we have co-written the narrative. A big thank you to Martin for supporting on the parts written in German.
Alex was 19 and would soon be heading off to study history at Durham University once the summer break had ended. His father, Mark who was in his late forties, whilst generally obsessed with work had always found time to create lasting memories by doing things with his son. This was more important now that it was only the two of them living in the family home since his wife had died. In a couple of weeks’ time, Mark would be living on his own until term ends at Christmas.
Mark decided he should take a few days off work and surprise Alex with a trip to Berlin for some father-and-son bonding Time before he leaves for Durham. Alex was very excited at the thought of spending a few days with his dad in the German capital. Not only did it give them some quality time together, but he could indulge in his love of history.
Little did the two Englishmen know that their trip was about to take an unexpected turn.
On their first day in Berlin, they took in many of the top tourist sites like Checkpoint Charlie, they walked through the 18th-century Brandenburg Gate, and even visited the top of the Berliner Fernsehturm. Mark was getting tired and in need of refreshment, so they agreed to find somewhere to eat and drink before continuing their sightseeing.
Alex got his map up on his phone and saw there was a traditional ‘bierkeller’, which received loads of great reviews on Yelp, and it was no more than half a mile from their current location.
Whilst following the directions they noticed they’d walked away from the modern concrete and steel of the city and had wandered into a run-down district. The buildings looked a bit dilapidated, and the atmosphere was filled with an eerie sense of danger. Mark’s instincts were telling him that maybe this wasn’t right, and they should turn around, but Alex reassured him they were heading in the right direction. Mark was a bit spooked because he noticed pairs of ‘dodgy’ looking characters around and he was pretty sure their eyes were focused on him and his son.
“Look, Dad,” Mark turned to Alex who was pointing upwards, “I told you we’d find it.”
Mark looked up, to see a faded sign hanging over the door with the words ‘bierkeller’ and some other words in German, which the two tourists didn’t understand.
They walked through the doors into a dimly lit room, with a bar on the right and tables alongside one of the walls and booths on the other.
To Mark and Alex, the place was deserted, but what neither had spotted was that there were three well-built German men sitting at a table, which was obscured from their view by a wooden pillar.
A lady came up to them, “Guten Tag. Möchten Sie auch was zum Essen?”
Mark replied, “I’m sorry I don’t speak German.” “Ah, you are English?
“Yes.” At which point Mark noticed a couple of heads turn towards them. “Welcome, I’m Greta,” pointing to at table, “Why don’t you sit here, and I’ll bring you a menu.”
Mark and Alex sat down. Mark was unnerved by the stares that the two foreigners were getting. Greta walked over to the bar where two beers had been poured into those traditional Bavarian Beer Steins.
“These are, as you English say, on the house. Here’s the menus. Can I recommend the pork schnitzel – they’re our specialty. I’ll be back to take your order.”
Mark picked up the glass and looked at it; by his nature, Mark was a cautious man who didn’t rush into anything. Meanwhile, Alex had already taken four or five gulps of the beer.
“Tastes great dad, you can really taste the hops. Go on take a sip. What are you worried about, it’s just beer?”
“I guess you’re right,” Mark said as he picked up the beer and took a sip. He smiled at his son, as he took another gulp.
Greta returned. Mark had already sunk half the beer and his son three-quarters. Mark looked up, “I think we’ll take your recommendation and have two pork schnitzels please,” and took another gulp of the beer. “You know son, you’re right this is good stuff. “And can we get another two beers?” Greta smiled, “of course. I’ll put the order in and get you the beers.”
No more than a few minutes later Greta returned with the two plates of hot pork schnitzel, mashed potato, and sauerkraut to find Mark and Alex, both unconscious.
“Uwe,” she called, “komm her, die beiden Engländer sind so weit!” [Uwe, come here, the Englishmen are ready].
Uwe looked over to where Greta was calling his name. He nodded to the other guys who stopped drinking and walked over to the other side of the room.
“Fritz bringt den Jungen ins Haus. Bastien, wir bringen den älteren nach unten [Fritz take the boy to the old house. Bastien we’ll take the older one downstairs].”
Alex slowly came around in a dimly lit room. He had been tied firmly to a chair, which must also have been fixed to the ground because although he struggled, it wouldn’t budge an inch.
“Hello, hello, anybody there,” Alex shouted with a tone of desperation in his voice.
A door opened, “Hallo,” a huge brute of a man walked into the room and spoke in a strong German accent. “Welcome my boy. It’s good of you and your father to have dropped into our little world.”
Alex took in the sight of this shaven-headed, six-foot-plus man dressed in a green bomber jacket, camouflage trousers, and boots. Alex was trying to tug at his bonds but to no avail. The bonds held.
The German was lighting up a cigarette as he watched Alex’s continued struggle against his bonds.
“You’re not going anywhere, boy.” He inhaled long and hard on his cigarette. “Struggle all you like but you’ll not free yourself. Save your energy, now tell me your name!”
“Okay, I don’t care, don’t tell me your name. I’ll tell you my name I’m Uwe. When me and my boys are finished with you your current identity will be irrelevant. Soon you won’t remember who you are right now and in time you won’t care. You will be reborn in the image I want. If you like, you’ll be one of my sons. I’m going to give you a new identity and a new purpose.”
Alex kept struggling, he wasn’t going to give up. “Where’s my dad? What have you done to him?”
“Ah, a fighter I see. I like that. We need that kind of attitude in our youth. Stefan! Karl! Kommt her, es ist Zeit den Jungen zu verwandeln!”. [Come here it’s time to start with this boy’s transformation].
Stefan and Karl had been sitting together on the other side of the room awaiting the nod to put Uwe’s plan for Alex into action.
“Where’s my dad? What have you done to him?”
Alex watched; there was fear in his eyes as one of the young skinheads came towards him with a hypodermic filled with some clear liquid.
“Your dad is fine. Nothing will happen to him if you just relax and let us take care of you. Now Stefan is going to give you some special medicine that will help you on your way.”
“Stefan, hau dem Jungen die Spritze in seinen rechten Arm. Du kannst den linken Arm für die Infusion nehmen.” [Stefan give the boy the injection in his right arm. You can use the left arm for the IV drip.]
The skinhead tapped his arm to get a vein to stand out. Alex was shaking his head. “Noooo, no, no! I don’t want an injection.” Stefan got a piece of cotton wool and swabbed a square inch area of Alex’s arm. Then he held up the syringe in front of Alex and pressed the plunger until liquid emerged from the end of the needle. He looked over towards the big German. Uwe walked over with another lit cigarette, he inhaled and blew the smoke in Alex’s face. “I hope you like smoking boy…because you’re going to be a heavy smoker. Now you better stay completely still, or you’ll be in a world of pain”.
Uwe looked at Stefan, “Mach schon!” [Go ahead]. Alex was petrified but could do nothing other than watch as the needle pierced the skin on his arm and the liquid was introduced into his body.
The effects of what had been injected were almost instantaneous. Alex started feeling woozy as though he was drifting away from reality.
He could feel something being placed over his eyes. Moments later his senses were flooded with bright, exploding, and swirling colours.
Then he sensed something being placed over his head and covering his ears. He heard the German’s voice again. “Sleep time my boy. When you wake up, you’ll feel so much better. And you will be reunited with your father.” His other arm was being swabbed by Karl and then Alex felt the prick of another needle. Then there was nothing - he fell into unconsciousness.
When the German was sure Alex was out cold, he spoke, “Stefan, Karl. RichBg, Ihr wisst was zu tun ist. Phase eins sollte so zehn bis zwölf Tage dauern. Dann bringen wir ihn vorbei und sehen, wie weit wir dann sind. Jetzt ist es an der Zeit mit dem Vater zu sprechen”. [Right, you know what to do. Stage one should take ten, maybe twelve days. Then we’ll bring him around and see what progress we have made. It’s Time to speak to the father].
“Ok, Boss, alles klar!” [Yes Boss, we understand]”
Mark’s Basement Confinement
Mark had lost track of time. He’d been confined in a damp basement with one bulb providing a little illumination. He’d been forced to spend many hours confined in a 6-foot by 6-foot steel cage. He was given one meal a day mainly consisting of a ‘porridge-like’ mush and a jug of water. He’d tried as long as possible to avoid eating, but hunger eventually won. Cutlery was not provided so he had to slurp from the bowl. He was eating when he heard a key turning in the door. Just then three huge men he’d not seen before – two with facial scars – all with shaved heads, tattoos, and extremely tall shiny black boots walked in. Two of them grabbed Mark by the arms and dragged him to his feet. The bowl of mush spilled on the floor. They held him firmly by the arm. The third man stood with folded arms facing Mark; he spoke “You will not move if you know what’s good for you.”
Another man walked into the room carrying an aluminum baseball bat.
“Hallo. I’m Uwe. Welcome my friend. You are?”
Mark wasn’t sure what to do, but he couldn’t see what problem it would be to give his first name. “Mark, I’m Mark. Where’s Alex, er I mean my son?”
“Don’t worry about him, he’s in good hands. If you cooperate, you’ll be able to see him very soon.”
“Why can’t I see him now?”
“Relax, Mark. He’s with some of my most trusted handlers.” Mark was struggling, but his captors held firm.
Uwe walked up to Mark, “Patience my friend, he’ll be ready to see you soon. Now let’s talk. You’re probably wondering why you’re here and not seeing the sights of Berlin?”
Mark struggled more, “I want to see my son, NOW!”
Uwe walked over to a stool and sat down. One of Uwe’s two henchmen grabbed Mark by the neck, forced him onto the floor, and dragged him over to just in front of where Uwe was sitting.
Uwe put his foot forward. “Lick it!” he ordered. Mark didn’t move. “When I give an order, you do it. Lick it.”
Turning to the same henchman, “drück sein Gesicht an meinen Stiefel!” [Force his head down to my boot].
“Now be a good slave and stick your tongue out.”
Mark was getting scared; he didn’t want to obey the hulking German, but he feared what might happen if he didn’t cooperate. Tentatively he stuck out his tongue. It was about an inch from the toecap.
“Now, I said – lick - the – boot.”
With that Uwe brought down his other boot on the back of Mark’s head which resulted in an initial contact. Mark was repulsed by the taste, which was a combination of leather, boot polish, and other things he didn’t care to think about. Mark withdrew his tongue but not for long.
“Remember if you don’t comply, all kinds of nasty things might happen to your son – so you better keep licking.”
If Mark was to ensure the safety of his son, he had to submit. So, he started licking once again.
“Yes, that’s good. Wir haben uns hier einen echten Bootboy geholt.” [We’ve got ourselves a bootboy here]. To which everyone except Mark burst out laughing.
“Now while you get acquainted with my boots. I have an opening for an apprentice in my utility company. I think you have all the qualities needed for the position. But right now, I doubt you’ll be willing to apply. So, I’m going to get Luka, Jonas, and BasBan here – three of my best men – to get you primed for your application to join.” With that Uwe pulled away his boots and turned to his men, “Ihr wisst, was zu tun ist. Nehmt Euch die Zeit, die Ihr braucht. Er soll betteln bei der Firma dabei sein zu dürfen! Ruf mich an wenn du mich brauchst!” [You know what you need to do. Take all the time you need. Make him beg to apply to join the firm. Call me if you need me].
Mark was still on the floor, unsure of what was about to happen to him. He was grabbed by the neck and pulled onto his feet. Three scary skinheads with fists clenched were grinning at him.
More than two weeks had passed since Uwe had begun Alex’s transformation and instructed his men to begin the process of inducing Mark into his wide-ranging business empire. He’d trusted Stefan and Karl to monitor Alex’s transformation into skinhead Axel. But now it was time to check up on the new boy’s progress.
Alex’s skinhead transformation
Alex was still sealed off from the outside world. Sleep deprived; forced to watch endless videos through the headset covering his face and listening to the monotonous voices and noise playing through the headphones. At first, Alex managed to block out the visual and audio stimulus that was bombarding his senses. He could have fought for weeks, but the technology Uwe’s men were using was always going to win out. Eventually, because of fatigue, and the sedatives he was being through the IV, Alex’s mind slowly started to succumb to programming.
Phase one was created to strip away an individual’s identity and personality traits. It began by erasing long-term memories, including Alex’s childhood and teen years; the activities he did with friends, holidays with his mum and dad, and all those birthday parties and family Christmases. Then more recent memories were targeted: success at school and getting the grades he needed for university, the city break to Berlin with his dad. An outside observer would have noticed the tears falling onto his cheeks and have been concerned, but Stefan and Karl knew this was a good sign. Alex tried to fight but it felt like an eraser was systematically cleansing everything it deemed as unnecessary in his mind. Alex made more of an effort to fight; he was desperate to hold onto everything that made him Alex, but it was no good. He was too exhausted from the lack of sleep and simply didn’t have the energy to resist anymore. Then, suddenly there was nothing, there wasn’t anything left to fight for; his mind was completely blank.
There was a pause before the second phase of his processing began. Slowly Alex could sense something being ‘uploaded’ onto the blank canvas that was his mind, a new personality for Alex. But he would no longer be Alex, he couldn’t speak English anymore. He was now Axel, a German native from a rundown part of what used to be East Berlin.
The upload created a backstory for Axel. He had been recruited by one of Uwe’s handlers when he was in his mid-teens. Axel had dropped out of school long before he should have officially completed his education. His mother was a heavy drinker and bothered little for her son's wellbeing and he'd not seen his father since he was 10. He joined with other school dropouts and became one of Uwe's young skinheads. He was looked after and was taught the skinhead code; immersing himself in their way of life. For the first time in his life he had a real family; a skinhead family.
Axel's new personality continued to be installed, unimpeded: where Alex had been a caring, thoughtful, polite, supportive son; Axel was going to be an aggressive, mean, and violent thug; who would obey Uwe’s orders without dissent and to the absolute letter.
He was forced to endure hours, upon hours of extreme combat and hardcore boxing.
His ability to reason and to compromise was turned off to ensure his behaviour was that of a streetfighter, ‘Obey the Boss, - Hit first, - Ask questions later’ was his mantra.
The third phase would introduce him to the world of skinheads. He was exposed to countless hours of video with clips of young men being roughed up by skinheads, forced head shaves, fights, stomping with huge calf-covering boots, boots being ladder laced, skinheads in bleachers, skinheads in camouflage pants.
Then more boots, more head shaving, more skinheads causing trouble. Over and over the video played out; Axel’s pliant mind absorbed the pictures together with the words that filled his ears. “Axel, Du bist ein Skinhead. Ein Skinhead mit rasiertem Kopf. Ein Skinhead, der große, eng geschnürte Stiefel trägt, mit ausgewaschenen Jeans und Hosenträgern!” [You are a skinhead. A skinhead with a shaved head. A skinhead wearing big boots tightly laced, bleachers, and braces]. Over and over the words were repeated in German until Axel started mouthing along in time with the words. (also in fluent German).
Uwe walked into the room looking up at a monitor he could see the video that was being fed into Axel’s headset. It showed skinheads, forced shaving, skins getting inked and pierced, and videos taken from ground level just showing black and oxblood boots marching.
He went over to the computer and stopped the video. The screens on Axel’s head went blank. From the menu, he selected ‘Phase vier’ [phase four] and pressed play. He pulled up a chair, lit a cigarette, and sat back knowing that this file would change Axel’s orientation forever.
Uwe pulled a cigarette out of the pack, lit it, and sat back to watch the monitor. He thought about how Mark would be mentally ‘destroyed’ when he was reintroduced to his son. First, it was time to introduce Axel to rubber. In an instant, the screen came to life with videos of skinheads wearing body-hugging rubber, skinheads having man-on-man sex in rubber, skinheads in slings, waders, gasmasks, and every kind of rubber fetish you could imagine. The voice in the headphones was Uwe, “Willkommen, Axel, in deinem neuen Gummileben. Jetzt entspann Dich einfach und genieße es.” [Axel welcome to your new rubber life. You are a rubberskin. Now just relax and enjoy it].
As Uwe smoked the last of his cigarette, letters appeared on the screen. There was a large ‘G’. It gradually morphed into a ‘U’ then ‘M’, ‘M’, and ‘I’. The sequence of letters kept cycling around. The voice in the headphones continued, “Du bist ein Gummi-Skinhead. Du liebst Latex. Du wirst in Gummi eingepackt. Du bist Axel, ein Gummimensch.” [You are a rubber skinhead. You love rubber. You will become rubbered. You are Axel a rubberskin].
Uwe was happy, he had the perfect perverted violent skinhead thug ready to join his ever-growing ‘army’. It was time to reintroduce son and father.
It had been ten days since Alex (now Axel) and Mark had been separated. In the two weeks that had passed, Mark, on a diet of water and mush had lost nearly three stone in weight. He was looking emaciated. He was weak and had suffered at the hands of Luka, Jonas, and BasBan. Uwe had given them the task of breaking him physically and mentally so he would be the perfect loyal worker in the utilities division of Uwe’s empire.
Axel was sitting in the chair in the room he’d been in for over a fortnight. He was no longer restrained; he didn’t need to be. The headset and earphones had been removed. He sat there waiting for instruction like a good, loyal servant.
Mark was dragged into the room. There in front of him, sitting in a chair was his son, apart from the fact that his hair had been buzzed down to a .5 grade, he looked fit and well. “Alex, Alex,” Mark cried, “are you okay, have they hurt you?”
Axel had a look of contempt on his face, he stood up. “Wer ist dieser Mann. Warum nennt er mich Alex?” [Who is this man? Why is he calling me Alex]?
Uwe spoke, “Axel, hast du diesen Mann vorher schon mal je gesehen?” [Axel have you ever seen this man before today]?
“Axel, weißt du, wer dieser Typ ist, den BasBan und Luka da festhalten?” [Axel, do you know who this man is that BasBan and Luka are holding up in front of you]?
Uwe walked over to Mark and whispered, “Your son is no more, your son is now mine. He has no idea who you are, watch, listen, and learn.”
“Axel, sag dem Mann, wer und was Du bist!” [Tell this man who and what you are]. With that Uwe, turned to Mark with a sly grin on his face.
“Ich bin Axel. Ich bin ein Skinhead und diene meinem Boss und Meister Uwe” [My name is Axel. I am a skinhead and I serve My Boss and Master Uwe].
“Du hast recht, Meister Uwe. Ich sehe nicht aus wie ein Skinhead. Ich brauche meine Springerstiefel und alles andere.” [You’re right Master Uwe I don’t look like a skinhead. I need my bleachers, boots and everything else]. Axel replied. “Mein Kopf muss rasiert warden.” [My head needs shaving], he continued.
Uwe happened to have a Mach 3 razor and a can of shaving foam in his pocket.
“Setz dich zu Axel und lass dir von Jonas einen Glatzkopf geben.” [Sit down Axel and let Jonas give you a bonehead]. Axel sat in the chair Uwe had been pointing to. Meanwhile, Jonas took the can of foam and razor from Uwe.
“Ist das alles? Gibt es noch mehr um ein echter Skinhead zu sein?” [Is that everything? Is there anything else you need to be a skinhead]? Uwe asked knowing the answer.
“Ja, ich sollte mein Septum piercen lassen und alles andere, was ihr befehlt machen lassen. Ich sollte mich auch auf dem ganzen Körper tätowieren lassen.” [Yes, I should have my septum pierced and anything else you instruct me to get done. I should also have tattoos on my body].
Uwe continued, “Möchtest Du, dass wir zusehen, wie Du mit Metall und Tinte präpariert wirst?” [would you like to get your ink and metal now while we watch]? “Ja, Meister Uwe”
With that, someone entered the room wheeling a trolley and placing it next to a chair that looked like something you would find in a dentist’s surgery.
Despite being held firmly by Uwe’s men, Mark started to struggle, “Alex, Alex, I’m your father, remember we came to Berlin before you headed off to uni”
Uwe cut him off. “You’re wasting your time, Mark. He doesn’t speak a word of English anymore. He’s my boy now”.
“Nooooooooo,” was all Mark could say.
Stefan came into the room and deliberately walked in front of Mark showing him the bleachers, black boots partly laced, and white t-shirt. Uwe spoke up, “Axel, zieh das an!” [Axel put these on].
Tears were streaming down Mark’s face as he watched his son first put on his bleachers, then a pair of white football socks, then the t-shirt, and finally he perfectly ladder laced his boots.
“Es ist Zeit für Deine ersten Tattoos, Axel.” [Time to get your first tattoos Axel]. There was no discussion about designs. Axel simply put out his arm and the tattooing began.
Mark was forced to watch as the ink started to be applied to his son’s virgin skin. Mark was beside himself, “no, no, nooooooooooooooooooooo.”
His handlers allowed him to fall to the floor, but Bastien lifted his head up and held it firmly. Mark closed his eyes, but this didn’t go unnoticed by Uwe. You better open your eyes Mark so you can watch your son become the perfect skinhead.
Luka walked towards Mark, it was clear to Mark that if he didn’t do as he was told, he’d be in severe pain. Over many hours he was forced to watch as his son was tattooed on his arms, both sides of his neck and his chest. Mark was then dragged closer so he could watch the back of his hands be covered in ink and the letters S-K-I-N and H-E-A-D be tattooed on Axel’s knuckles.
Mark was broken, but it didn’t end there. He was made to watch as he got a septum piercing, barbells through his nipples, and finally a tongue piercing.
Uwe walked over to Axel and handed him a green MA1 jacket, “Geh mit Stefen um tu genau das, was er Dir sagt!”. [Now go with Stefan and do exactly as he says], at the same time he took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, Willst du eine Zigarette, Axel?[Do you want a cigarette], Ja Boss, he took one and lit it up, took a deep inhale, like a pro, then exhaled in the face of the stranger that was before him.
Before Axel left the room, he stuck his boot out, turned, to the man who was on the floor, “Leck meine Stiefel” [lick my boots], Mark was forced down on his own son’s boot and started to lick. Mark tried to resist but the other skinheads made him do it. Axel looked down with contempt on his face lifted his boot he then kicked the man as hard as he could. Causing Mark to double over in severe pain. As he was booting the man he spoke “nimm das du englischer Abschaum”[Take that you English scum]
Uwe, then turned to Mark and said, “I doubt you will ever see your son again, and if you do, you won’t be able to recognise him.
“Bastien, Es ist an der Zeit, Marks Verwandlung in einen zuverlässigen Arbeiter abzuschließen.” [Bastien, it’s time to finish Mark’s transformation into a loyal worker].
“I’ll see you soon Mark. Enjoy your time with BasBan and Luka. Jonas, I need your help.
Uwe had issued instructions that Mark was to undergo a harrowing transformation, which would result in his mind being wiped and a new personality installed.
With that Bastien walked over to Mark and pulled him back onto his feet. Luka came over with a huge bag. Mark was so broken at the site of his son willingly allowing himself to be covered in hideous tattoos and piercings that didn’t resist as the two henchmen stripped him out of his clothes and dressed him in an orange jumpsuit and a pair of black boots. The German henchmen were not taking any chances, so they put ankle chains on Mark’s boots to ensure he didn’t do a runner.
Using a combination of more physical torture, sinister hypnosis, and mind-altering drugs, they set out to transform Mark into one of their own but with a significantly lower IQ than he had in his previous life; he wouldn’t need to think anymore. He would also be programmed as a skinhead with a predisposition to dirt and filth. Unlike Axel who would be one of Uwe’s frontline enforcers and recruiters, Markus would be employed as one of Uwe’s labourers in the utility division.
The process was torturous, his mind slowly being wiped of all memories. The deeper Mark could sense himself sink into his handlers’ control, the deeper was his submission to their powerful hypnotic conditioning of him. Soon there would be no possible escape. Soon there would be no need for restraints. Soon there would be no recognition that the reflection he was looking at was anything other than a perfect skinhead bound inexorably to Uwe’s will. Mark’s once vivid recollections of family, friends, and work colleagues faded further and further away, leaving an empty void in their place.
Days and nights blurred into one, and eventually out of the shell of Mark, Markus emerged. The compassionate, intelligent innocence that once filled his eyes had been replaced with a cold, soulless, vacant stare. He had been remade and was now a submissive, chain-smoking skinhead. His memories of his life before were erased, so there was no doubt in his mind that he had always been a skinhead first and foremost and a labourer from the moment he’d quit school. He was born in Hannover and moved to Berlin in his teen years.
To ensure that reality reinforced his reprogramming, he was tattooed and pierced before becoming fully conscious again. As he looked around the room, he saw Bastien standing in front of him carrying a pile of skinhead clothing.
“Markus, steh auf. Hier sind deine Klamotten. Ziehe sie an. [Markus stand up. Here are your clothes. Put them on].
He fully complied with Batien's instructions. He was now dressed in bleachers, boots, with white laddered laces, a black skinhead t-shirt with braces, and his head was shaved clean. He had tattoos on both arms and on the left side of his neck. A thick septum piercing had been added and his ears were pierced but stretchers had replaced the rings. Markus stood there proudly waiting for Boss Uwe to give his nod of approval.
Uwe was very pleased with Markus’ transformation. He walked around him, nodding in approval. Even when he squeezed Markus’ arse, the newly converted skinhead didn’t flinch.
Uwe spoke to the skinhead in English, “How are you feeling Markus, ready to join my utilities division? Markus tilted his head with a look of confusion on his face, and then spoke in fluent German “Ich verstehe nicht” [I don’t understand].
“Gut. Bastien, bring Marcus in den Schlafsaal, wo ihn Fritz einweisen wird. Tschüss Mark, hallo Markus, arbeite hart und folge dem Beispiel von Fritz.” [Good. Bastien take Marcus to the dormitory where Fritz will be waiting for him for his induction. Bye-bye Mark, hello Markus, make sure you work hard and follow Fritz’s lead]. With that Markus was led out of the room and taken to meet his supervisor, Fritz.
Years passed, and the once happy and loving father and son had become unrecognizable to one another. Axel didn’t have any recollection of family other than Uwe and neither did Markus. Berlin was their home; Uwe’s sprawling organisation was now their family.
The predisposition to filth and dirt that had been part of Markus’ reprogramming meant Markus spent most of his time working in the sewers. Fritz also was also turned on by grime and anything related, so, over time the two men became very close exploring their kinks and fantasies together, with other skinheads with the same disposition.
Axel on the other hand became one of Uwe’s best operatives. He’d been instructed to spend two hours a day working out at the gym. His trainer had introduced him to steroids, which meant he was bulking up quickly. He was a rising star in Uwe’s organisation becoming one of his most trusted lieutenants but also one of the best youth recruiters. One minute he’d be at the heart of some criminal activity Uwe was involved in as one of the mission heavies. The next he’d be roaming the streets of working-class Berlin looking for lost sheep to recruit into Uwe’s youth corps.
On the rare occasions, that both Markus and Axel would cross paths, there was no recognition between the two of them. It was Markus who would lower his head as Axel walked past, never giving him eye contact, he was a worker skin in Boss Uwe’s organisation, a lesser cog. Whereas, Axel was far superior to him and was in the inner circle of the skinhead gang. He deserved respect at all times from other Skinheads.
There were moments when Markus and Axel felt a pang of something they couldn’t quite remember. It was a distant memory, a faint echo of what once was. When these thoughts came to mind the programming, they had received erased them and they carried on, very contented with their new lives.
The grip of the skinhead family never wavered. Their lives were forever intertwined with Uwe’s gang.
[The images used to illustrate the story have been taken from the internet. Let me know if any are personal and I will remove them].
