Name: Chantel Adelaine
Age: 18
Height: around Lebeau's shoulder
Weight: at first 5 lbs. Lighter then the average weight for that height, but she gains it later
Build: the build of an average female dancer, only slightly thinner
Mastered/Good Skills: dancing, singing, code-making/breaking, creating distractions, speaking English, French, & German, and has a connection with animals
Heritage: Her mom a Frenchwoman and her dad German
Eye Color: dark green
Hair Color: black
Hair Length: shoulder
Hair Style: down
Outfit when she arrives: black pants, black boots, white socks, and a long-sleeved dark green shirt like Newkirk's
Parts she gains: black gloves, a dark green hat, a black scarf, and a black jacket
Info: she is part of the Underground, thanks to her mom a.k.a. Lone Wolf. Her 'bodyguard' turned traitor (he only knows about her and only has a connection to her), and turned her in. They IMMEDIATELY went to beating her for information.. She wouldn't talk, and since she got sick, they turned her over to be kept in Stalag 13. Her injuries were bandaged (they cover her lower back, arms, legs, & some small cuts along her neck. Bruises are along her stomach, across many of her cuts, & a fading bruise on her cheek), and sent over with a private who HATES her since she is also a child born outside of marriage and considered a half-breed since she is half French.
"English"
"French"
"German"
Author: I ONLY own Chantel.
Chapter One: Transfer
Chantel's body shook with every cough that forced her way through her throat. She had a VERY high fever, and a VERY bad cough. "You disgusting, vile, low, piece of scum who is even too low for that name!" she snarled at the Private who was guarding her.
"Shut up half breed!" he snapped at her.
She doubled over in pain as she coughs racked through her body, and felt her body WANTED to throw up, but her stomach had nothing in it, so she dry threw up. "I am so lucky you do not understand French you low-life, sick, power-hungry, nasty, you scum-sucking fool!"she snapped at him.
He slapped her, and she fell to the floor of the truck. "I believe I told you to shut-up!" he taunted.
They stopped, and he picked her up. "Put me down!" she exclaimed, struggling, only stopping to 'cough up a lung'.
"Why do you think I volunteered for this? Stop struggling you disgusting half breed!" he stated.
She coughed again, but refused to stop struggling. He stepped down from the truck. There she saw another German who had a rank, and an American P.O.W. "Ah! So THIS is the little half breed that is REFUSING to talk! Col. Hogan, she will be in YOUR barrack!" the rank officer stated.
"You will need to carry her since she is incapable of doing so like the half breed she is," the Private stated, LITERALLY dropping her into Col. Hogan's arms.
"Shut up you foul scum!" she snapped, anger obvious in her eyes, and then went into a fit of coughing.
"I'm Col. Hogan! Those of this P.O.W. camp will do as MUCH as they can within limits to help you," he introduced, walking into the barrack.
"Hello Colonel! Who is the girl?" a man with a French man asked.
"A person with a French accent. That gives me some comfort here," she muttered, then coughed.
Hogan set her down on the bottom bunk of Lebeau's bunk. "Okay, hate to bug you, but why did the Private call you a half breed?" Hogan asked.
Lebeau looked up in shock and surprise. "He forgot to mention I am a child born out of wed-lock. My mother is French, and my father is German. Mom has me carry my birth records around with me. Oh! Lone Wolf says, 'Plans canceled, don't move till a week from now, at nineteen hundred hours,'" she explained, then coughed heavily, in a lot of pain.
"Thank you. Lebeau, you are in charge of her since she seems to be calm around you, and I'm getting the others. I'm also going to go over some paperwork," Hogan ordered.
"Of course Colonel! Hello Little One! I am Louis Lebeau! You may call me whatever name you wish! What is your's?" he asked.
"My name is Chantel Adelaine. My last name was...revoked. Thank you Louis!"she answered, then coughed slightly.
"Oh! That must have been hard to deal with!" Louis said.
"Not really. Good night Louis," she muttered, and turned over, gasping slightly in pain, then falling asleep.
He sighed and covered her with the blankets. When he placed his hand on her head he pulled his hand away in shock. "You are burning up Little One!" he exclaimed.
"'Ello Lebeau! Who's the girl?" he asked.
"Her name is Chantel, and she is sick! She has a fever and a bad cough," Lebeau informed.
"Col. Hogan told us she was sick, and we were informed to help take care of her," Kinch explained, coming up.
"I have no problems in helping Chantel get better! I'll go make some broth!" Lebeau stated, and he started making the broth.
Col. Hogan came up, and closed the ladder up. "Well, she's been cleared, but refuses to claim her," he stated.
"THAT is what she meant about her last name bing revoked! Poor Little Chantel!" Lebeau exclaimed.
He then came over to her bed, and sat down on it's edge, near her mid-back. "Chantel? Little One? It is time to wake up! I have made some broth, so you need to wake up," Lebeau said.
She muttered, and rolled over, looking at him, awake. "Louis, did you make some beef broth?" she asked.
"Yes! Very good! Now, I need to ask you a question. Can you eat by yourself, or do you need some assistance?" he asked.
"Let us see," she muttered.
She groaned, started pushing herself up, and then fell back with a cry of pain. "Little One! Are you okay?" Lebeau asked.
"OW! I forgot those were there! Those cuts, and bruises from those stupid scum-sucking ranking Germans!" she exclaimed.
"'Ow about Lebeau 'elps you eat, while I 'elp support you, hmm?" an English man asked.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I'm Newkirk, the local pickpocket at your service?" he introduced with a small bow.
"That's very nice Newkirk! Now, since this turned into introduction time, how about the other's have a chance to introduce themselves?" Lebeau asked.
"Hi! I'm Andrew Cater! You can call me Andrew or Carter, I don't mind!" Carter introduced.
"I am Kinchloe, known as Kinch, and it is a pleasure to meet you!" he introduced, holding her hand out to shake.
She took his hand, and he felt how hot her hand felt. "Sorry my handshake is not strong," she apologized softly, and coughed slightly.
"Well, if you don't object to being helped, Newkirk will support you while Lebeau helps you with your broth" Hogan stated.
"If it's not too much trouble," she replied, coughing slightly.
"No trouble at all!" Lebeau said.
"I agree with 'im!" Newkirk stated, gently lifting her into a sitting position.
She cried out in pain, and Newkirk stopped lifting her. "Sorry," he stated, letting her lean against him.
"It's not your fault. Germans wanting information, remember?" she muttered, coughing a little more.
"Those scummy," Lebeau started, but she stopped him.
"Don't get angry right now please! I have not eaten in a few days, I am sick with a horrid fever, a horrid cough, have been beaten, need help to eat, and need support to sit up! So, please, put aside your anger for later please?" she asked.
"Okay Little One," he answered.
"Thank you Louis! Can you please assist me?" she asked.
-10 minutes later-
Chatel was asleep and Lebeau was talking to Col. Hogan. "She is so sick Colonel!" he exclaimed.
"I know Lebeau. The only way we can help her keep her warm is if you sacrifice your blankets, and cover her with them. That won't be able to keep her warm enough. When she wakes up, you can ask if you can help keep her warm by snuggling up with her. That is only is you wish to sacrifice your own comfort for her that is," Hogan stated.
"Of course Colonel!" Lebeau stated.
He pulled off his sheets and blankets off his bunk, then covered/tucked Chantel with them. "Now we hope for the best, right Colonel?" he asked, worried.
"Yeah, right now that is all you can do Lebeau. Good night," he stated, going into his room.
Lebeau saluted, and then sat on the bench (or chair) at the table. He sighed, laid his head on his arms, and fell asleep, still in his uniform.
-End Chapter One-