A/N: I put all languages that are not English in bold. I hope you enjoy these characters, I wanted to experiment with people of different ages and backgrounds. Hopefully I can introduce these characters to you well.

The three men standing in the middle of a dirt path had just shot through the windshield of a truck in front of them, killing the Nazis inside. Several men had since came out from their hiding place along the road, to help search the vehicle. This truck was a little bigger than the ones they had seen, and shot at, before. Once the doors in the back were open and light barely spilled into the area they were a little surprised. At first glance the space seemed to be empty. After a while it looked like there might be something back there, but it was hard to tell. After they exchanged a few glances they decided well, yeah, there might be something fucking back there.

"What is that," Donny whispered.

"Sacks of potatoes?"

"People?"

"Are they dead," Smithson rose a little above a whisper, a bit shocked. They had never come across any people before.

"I don't know Smithson. Go figure it out," Wicki pointed lazily to the back of the truck, making no effort to whisper at all. Smithson sighed. Why did they always make him do the weird things? He kicked his leg up and stepped into the trunk. He quietly moved towards the figures but stopped abruptly when he got to them. The light was still as dim as before, but now that he was so close he could see the very faint up and down movement caused by breathing. If they were breathing they were alive, how alive he wasn't sure. Was an injured man really that much better than a dead man, anyways? Okay, so, enough of the inner monologue. Now what the hell was he supposed to do, poke them? Who knew what kind of people these were? Why did they always make him do the weird things?

He stopped and just fucking shook them. No need to be formal, he was probably going to have to kill these people if they turned out to be Germans or something. The person jerked awake and mumbled something in a language he was pretty sure he didn't know. This person also woke up the others next to him and they all stood. He was actually a she, who had said something once again, directly to Smithson, in a much higher voice. Smithson looked to Wicki, but Wilhelm just looked back.

"I don't know what they are saying, don't look at me."

The one, two, three people walked out into the clearing, one of them said something again and looked like they were waiting for the rest of them to do something. Oh. Oh. They probably thought they were the same Germans they had actually just gunned down. Obviously, they were disguised as Germans, it made sense.

"Uh, we are not Germans...do you happen to speak English?"

"Yeah," the blonde girl answered. She looked so tired, but also very unapproachable.

"Well you aren't German, right, so what are you?"

"We are Russian. Red army."

"Okay, just uh, give us one second."

Smithson turned to Donny.

"What the fuck do we do?"

"Well we can't trust them."

"Right."

"So. Bring 'em to Aldo."

As soon as they got back to base Aldo said that they were going to interrogate them separately. He decided on the girl first, obviously she'd be the easiest to crack and then they could work from there. Aldo had the men scatter about in a circle and the girl sit in the center of them. Her friends sat off to the side, quiet a distance away.

"Alright girl, you speak English?"

"Yes."

"You said you was Russian."

"We are."

"Then what are you doing in the back of a truck with a bunch of goddamn Nazis," he said Nazi with a 't', like 'nat', his accent making the word stressed and the vowels stretched.

"We were taken prisoner."

"Now, I ain't sayin' that ain't true. But how do I know you didn't have a heart attack when ya got caught, plea with the sons a bitches, and start workin' with them in exchange for your life? A plethora of things could have led to you betrayin' mother Russia," the girl looked incredulous," Now, now, I ain't blamin' you, ya just a broad, them Germans could be pretty scary. I understand, everybody wants to live."

The men around her laughed a little and Aldo circled her, leaving her line of site.

"Sir, I would never betray my country, and with all due respect, you are a fool to think otherwise."

Alright, maybe this girl would be a little harder to crack then Aldo had previously thought. That was just fine with him, though. Aldo continued to circle her like a shark.

"What's a girl doin' in the army anyway?"

"I am here because they put me here."

"Were you drafted?"

Her eyes dart to the side for a split second and she nods her head in affirmation.

"How old were you?"

"I just turned eighteen when I join. I am twenty three now."

"You got a family back home?"

"Yes..."

"How many siblings? How about your parents, ya daddy still around?"

"Yes, I hardly see what this has to do- "

"Now, answer the question."

"I have a normal family. Just like everyone else," she adds last minute.

"Siblings?"

"None...but there was lots of children in the neighborhood."

"That sounds nice."

She made a 'hmmh' noise.

"Okay, so you had a nice, mild life in Russia, ya got drafted, ya got captured, it was too hard, you weren't used to it so maybe you bargained, nobody's judging you."

"No, we were being sent to prison camp."

"You weren't even a little scared?"

"No."

"Oh, come on, don't lie."

"I was not scared, I am not scared now, I will not be scared even when I die."

"It's okay if ya are."

"You want to know what I am feeling?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I am feeling lot like when I get captured, I am feeling lot like when I first saw one of my comrades die, I am feeling like I want to take you neck between my hands and choke the life from you," her voice slowly rose. Her friends could hear her becoming upset, as they turned to look at her, to see what was going on. So she was the angry type.

"Whew, you got a temper on ya?"

"You don't get in army for being calm."

"Fair point. How about your buddies, you know we're gonna talk to them next? You know we ain't gonna be as nice," the men laugh all around her again.

"You speak Russian?"

"Nope."

"Then you are not going to be able to speak with them alone."

"They don't speak any other languages?"

"They can barely speak English, only basic words. They couldn't understand you anyways."

"So we just gonna have to trust your damn word, huh?"

"Yeah," she didn't smile or get cocky, she just looked dead on.

"You just ground troops or you trained for somethin' else?"

"I was assigned to group of soldiers as a sniper. Lieutenant fought with tank once."

"How far away can you hit a man?"

"I was trained to hit a body at minimum of 600 meters, a head at 300."

"But how far can you hit, not how far you were trained to hit."

"Further than that."

"That's a little vague."

"The furthest I have hit is 1,500 meters."

"That's good, damn good."

"Yes..thank you."

"There's nothing more I can do to convince you to tell me the truth, I'll be honest. But one of my friends over here, well, they're gonna get it out of you. Just to be sure you ain't left nothin' out. It's nothin' personal."