AN: An attempt to get something done that I actually am motivated to write…since nothing else has come my way, I decided this was as good an idea as any…Karel Vojtisek is one of the main characters from the Czech film Dark Blue World, and of course, Hannibal Lector is from Hannibal Rising. The actors to play these roles are Krystof Hadek (Karel Vojtisek) and Gaspard Ulliel (Hannibal Lector), so I hope that helps (though not many people know who Krystof Hadek is…).
Both characters take place in World War II, so the time does match up (sort of lol). This is if they had perhaps met—I realize Karel is older than Hannibal in the actual time-stream, so let's just pretend they end up being around the same age, or something…yeah, I don't know…Karel is pronounced "Kah-rel," and it helps to see the movies, of course lol Maybe this will convince you to watch the wonderful Dark Blue World. :D
I'll shut up now. Enjoy, and leave many comments, please…
As the World Rises
Chapter One
Hannibal Lector wrapped his arms around himself, his breath coming and going in puffs of steam in the early morning air of France. He had managed to get across the borders without too much trouble, considering the many people looking for him. He stumbled over some leaves, feeling his stomach growl. He hadn't eaten since he had left crossed the border. He was headed southeast, towards a cheap boat to Canada.
He looked up, hearing Gatling fire over his head just in time to see three planes glide past. One of them was shot down—a Messerschmitt—and the other two peeled off, preparing to head back towards England when out of nowhere another Messerschmitt appeared, firing on one of the planes.
It was hit on the tail and went down into the trees nearby. The other pilot was unable to come to the aid of his companion because more of the Messerschmitt pilots arrived, chasing him from the area.
Deciding a dead pilot was better than nothing, Hannibal headed towards the crash site, knowing that the Germans would land where their comrade was before they came after the enemy. He reached the wreckage and saw the young pilot attempting to get out of the airplane before it ignited and blew him sky-high. He finally managed to and began to run across the field, the flames from the engine following him on the ground as he left behind a trail of gasoline. He stumbled and began to roll around, trying to wipe the gasoline from his boots.
Hannibal licked his lips, not sure whether or not he should go after the boy. He was forced to pause when the Messerschmitt pilots circled above. If they saw him, they would fire without hesitation. They pulled their triggers and bullets showered down on the helpless pilot. All Hannibal had to do was wait and watch and soon he would have dinner…
The plane exploded, sending debris into the air, warding off the closing Messerschmitt planes, and the pilot managed to scramble into the dense forest. Now that the Germans could no longer hit him, he was left with minor wounds from the crash and one giant hole in his shoulder where one of the bullets had grazed him.
Hannibal took this chance and scampered across the field and into the forest, following the trail of blood. He found the pilot pulling off his goggles and hat, crying in pain from the hole in his shoulder. He jumped when he heard Hannibal approaching, but couldn't move—his body was far too tired, far too injured. He looked at Hannibal with his soft, brown eyes, and for a moment, Hannibal wondered if he was hungry enough to eat this boy. He wondered who he was.
"Parle vous françias?" he asked.
The pilot shook his head.
"Do you speak English?"
The pilot looked terrified and was shaking too much to reply.
"Well? If you don't tell me, I'll eat you."
This scared the pilot even more and he attempted to scoot away from the older boy standing above him. His jaw was trembling, tears rolling down his face. He had never thought he would cry so easily before, but now was as good a time as any to find out. Being wounded was one thing—being threatened with cannibalism was something completely different.
"I will give you one more chance," said Hannibal adjusting his glove. "As I have not eaten in many days, it might be wise for you to reply. Start with your name."
"K-Karel Vojtisek," he replied with a heavy swallow.
"Karel, hm? Well, I must admit, I am a little disappointed that you can speak. I was looking forward to some dinner," replied Hannibal. "I am Hannibal Lector. Have you heard of me?"
Karel shook his head violently.
"Speak."
"N-no, I have not," his English was raunchy, telling Hannibal that much like himself, it was not Karel's first language. "I have been fighting in the Royal Air Force, an English pilot."
Hannibal nodded and approached the boy, who quickly moved backwards again until his back was pressed against a tree and he couldn't move any further. He was shaking, his eyes drifting shut and then jumping open from the amount of blood he had lost.
"Don't worry, Karel," said Hannibal calmly. "I will not harm you…I keep my word."
Karel shook his head, and promptly passed out.
Hannibal tore off part of Karel's jacket and used it to tie off the wound. He examined the boy quickly for anything that was as serious or that needed such attention, but found few others. Those he did find he patched with more pieces of Karel's coat. He then left to find wood for a fire and perhaps some little morsels…yes, he was quite hungry. If Karel wasn't awake by sunrise, Hannibal would have little choice but to eat his fill.
xxx
Karel opened his eyes, his head throbbing. His eyes swept across the dark forest, landing on a figure hunched over a flickering fire. The fire was small enough that it wouldn't attract too much unwanted attention, but was big enough that it was slowly roasting a few squirrels.
He sat up slowly, the leaves under him rustling, the stranger turning and looking him over with his cold eyes. "You're awake."
Karel suddenly remembered that this person had threatened to eat him and shoved himself backward into the tree, gasping in pain as he moved his injured shoulder.
"You should not move," he said calmly, poking at the small rodents with a stick. "I can see by the look on your face that you do remember me, but possibly not my name." A glance and then a nod. "I am called Hannibal Lector."
Karel swallowed and nodded, but didn't say anything in reply.
"You certainly are a quiet one," said Hannibal, eyeing him. "Are you like me, perhaps? A deranged mind out to see the world to its knees?"
"I-I am a pilot in the—"
"Royal Air Force, yes, I know," replied Hannibal, sticking one of the skinned squirrels and pulling it from the makeshift spit. He held it out towards Karel. "You told me just before you went unconscious. Eat. It was troublesome catching them and cooking them for you."
"Y-you said you would eat me?" asked Karel, taking the speared rodent and examining it. He was hungry and his stomach growled at the smell of the cooked flesh, but he couldn't quite stomach the thought of eating a squirrel.
"Yes, if you did not reply to me," he replied taking his own meal and biting into it without any physical reaction to the hot meat. "I must admit, I am sorry that you did…however, I do keep my word."
Karel pulled his legs closer to his body and bite tentatively into his squirrel. He gasped as the hot meat burned his tongue. He quickly swallowed the bite and sucked on his tongue, trying to cool it off.
Deciding to make small-talk while his food cooled, Karel said slowly, "Your English is very well. How do you know it?"
Hannibal took another bite and said, "Good."
"Thank you," replied Karel, confused. "But you did not say yes to my question."
"No, you meant your English is very good, not well," replied Hannibal. "And you mean to say that I did not answer your question, not say yes."
Karel just looked at him blankly. Some of the girls back on the base had told him something very similar, but he still didn't quite understand.
"I suppose it's pointless to try and teach you," replied Hannibal as he cleaned the bones with his fingernails.
Karel looked down at his own meal, which was still steaming and far too hot to eat just yet. He wondered how Hannibal could have eaten his right off of the spit. However, he decided not to dwell on this fact—even though Hannibal had helped him, he could still be dangerous…perhaps he was even a German. That might be why his English was so much better than Karel's.
The pilot tried not to dwell on this and instead asked, "Why are you in France?"
Hannibal tried to ignore the choppy structure and answered softly, "I am on my way to Spain, so I can get to Canada."
"Why Canada?"
Hannibal glanced over at Karel and said, "I'm having some old friends for dinner."
Karel shivered. There was something about Hannibal that he didn't like…and yet, he was drawn to him. The fact that he had saved his life made Karel feel as if he owed the older boy his companionship, or at least his trust.
"Would you like to join me?"
Karel jumped. He hadn't expected Hannibal to talk to him again. "N-no."
Hannibal raised one of his sleek eyebrows, his lips quirking. "You should leave this place—it is a bad place."
"My comrade will come for me," replied Karel, though his tone sounded doubtful. "He will not leave me behind."
Hannibal cocked his head to the side and said softly, "You put too much trust in people."
"What?"
"They will destroy you; you are to naïve," he replied, looking at the squirrel in Karel's hands.
Karel lifted it to him and Hannibal accepted it without question. He tore into the meat, glad to have something in his belly, though wishing it were something bloodier and, well, human. He had acquired a taste for human flesh over the past few months and the cooked squirrel tasted bland and dry in comparison.
His eyes lifted to Karel and he watched the younger boy squirm. It made him smile, his dimple pinching in his left cheek. "I think you should join me. We could be great together…"
Karel shook his head. "I have my job—my planes."
"You can fly elsewhere."
"My comrades…my people…they are…"
"Under the Nazi regime," replied Hannibal with a raise of his eyebrows. "Yes, I know. Where are you from?"
"Czechoslovakia," replied Karel carefully.
"My, my, what a long way from home," Hannibal finished off the squirrel and put the bones into the fire where the remaining tendons sizzled and popped. He raised an eyebrow and said, "Canada would be better suited for someone like you."
Karel shook his head. "I cannot go with you. I thank you for your help, but I must fly and fight the SS."
Hannibal cocked his head to the side, wondering why he was so intent on having this boy join him. Perhaps he just felt sorry for him—or, perhaps he was looking for something tasty to eat on the way to Canada. He wasn't quite sure. Suddenly a thought entered his mind—Karel had mentioned his comrades and his people, but not his family.
"Where is your family, Karel? With the Nazi's?"
Karel looked away and pulled his arms around his knees.
"I see. Karel," said Hannibal, standing and dusting his slacks off, "We are the same, you and I. You have lost everything and fight for something that you cannot retrieve. Give in—even if you win this fight, there will always be something that will come to take your victory from you."
Karel shifted his eyes to Hannibal. "How can you know this?"
Hannibal turned his cold eyes away and murmured, "I know from experience."
"Ex…Experience?" asked Karel, not familiar with the word.
"I have been through it before."
Karel shook his head. He still didn't understand.
"If you come with me, then we will come back and save Czechoslovakia," tempted Hannibal.
"How?"
"The Canadians will help."
Karel looked down at his shoes and thought. It was a tempting offer, but how would he know for sure?
"Trust me," said Hannibal. "If you come with me, you will not lose your life."
"If I stay, I will not," he replied.
"What is there for you here?"
"Frantisek Sláma."
"Who?"
"Franta," replied Karel. "He is my comrade—like my brother."
Hannibal nodded carefully and put his hands in his pockets. "Is this who you think will come to help you?"
Karel nodded.
"He is a pilot?"
Again, a nod.
"He will not help you," replied Hannibal. "He is bound to his duty and cannot help you. He will wait for you to return, and even when you do not, they will presume you dead. It is better to die now and return a hero than to die in reality and not return at all."
Karel just shook his head. His English wasn't nearly as sophisticated as Hannibal's, but it sounded convincing enough to him. He stood up and nodded. "If you promise we will come back."
"Dear boy, I promise nothing," replied Hannibal, and he turned into the dark forest, Karel behind him.
