Cliff sat in his train compartment, just like he had all those months ago. Except this time was different. He was leaving. He had to get out. He had to leave. Over the loudspeaker came an announcement.

"Letzte Ansage! Berlin-Paris Express abfahrt vier Uhr bahnsteig siebzehn. All einsteigen, bitte. Letzte ansage!"

A man strolled up to him. He looked... vaguely familiar, but he was sure it was nothing.

"Deutsche grenzkontrolle. Ihren pass bitte," he said in a gruff voice. Cliff obliged.

The border officer flipped through it, stamping it, before handing it back and saying, "I hope you have enjoyed your stay in Germany, Mr. Bradshaw. And you will return again soon."

"It's not very likely," Cliff replied, staring out the opposite window.

"You did not find our country beautiful?"

"Yes, I found it... beautiful," Cliff said exhaled tonelessly

"A good journey, sir," the Official said, before turning to leave.

Cliff was left alone with his thoughts. He pulled out a notebook and pen, beginning to write. It took him maybe thirty or fourty seconds, then he stopped, looking over his text.

"There was a Cabaret," he read softly, "and there was a Master-of-Ceremonies and there was a city called Berlin in a country called Germany and it was the end of the world."

In his head, the oh-so-familiar music began to play. He ignored it, continuing to read.

"And I was dancing with Sally Bowles and we were both fast asleep..."

He gave into the music playing in his mind, singing to himself, "Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome."

He could have sworn, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Emcee of the Cabaret step out of the crowd. Spurred on by this, he continued.

"Fremde, etranger, stranger."

He could hear the Emcee's voice in his head as he sang, the apparition in front of him beginning to sing.

"Glücklich zu sehen, je suis enchante. Happy to see you," his voice trailed off as the Emcee continued.

"Bleibe, reste, stay..."

In his mind's eye, Cliff could see everyone else he had met in Berlin. Fraulein Schneider. Herr Schultz. Fraulein Kost and Herr Ernst, the two that ruined it all. And Sally. Oh, the beautiful, wonderful Sally. He would miss her, but she chose her path. Life is a Cabaret, she sang.

Well not anymore.

The Emcee begins to talk, addressing an audience that is not there.

"Meine dammen, und Herren—" he started, still happy, but something sounded off. "Mesdames et Messieurs. Ladies and Gentlemen."

The Emcee drew in a breath.

"Where are your troubles now?" he probed. "Forgotten? I told you so! We have no troubles here!"

He said it so confidently, but he heard a tremor in his voice, almost like he was about to sob.

"Here," he started, echoing the first song Cliff had heard in Berlin, "life is... beautiful. The girls are beautiful."

The Emcee drew in a breath before screaming out the next part.

"EVEN THE ORCHESTRA IS BEAUTIFUL!"

In Cliff's mind he could hear the sound of the big Cabaret orchestra playing, but it was off. There was no one to play it, and it sounded dissident. Wrong. Like nature itself was rebelling.

When it ended, Cliff could only see the Emcee, standing alone in a white room with a large trench coat on.

"Auf Wiedersehen," the Emcee whispered.

"A bientot!"

Cliff waited for him to finish, but it never came.

What came instead was a drumroll, where the Emcee slowly took off the coat to reveal him in unfamiliar thin, striped clothing with a yellow star and pink triangle stitched on.

Cliff heard a cymbal crash, a gunshot, a flash of bright light, and the Emcee was on the ground.

Dead.

Well isn't that just nice and cheery!