REPOSTED STORY/CHAPTER. Explanation in profile.
I've kept some of the original author's notes and added new ones.
A/N: Readers, please be informed that I hold nothing against the Jewish culture. Things are not always what they seem. If you don't like it, don't read it. I knew I'd have a lot of angry reviewers at the start. That's good. Sometimes a controversial piece that gets under the reader's skin is what an audience needs. What is the point of reading something that does not make you feel or think? If you are offended or angry, then I've done my job by provoking something.
Chapter 1- Meeting Landa
My own blood was tangled in my hair turning it dark and red. It was matted against my skull and neck. My eyes felt tired and only remained half open during my trek down the sun-beaten country road. Sweat gathered along my jaw line and upon my chest which at the time was more exposed than to my liking. My dress was torn and stained. It barely covered and hung like rags onto my hungry frame. The blood and dirt was also splattered down my legs, dried in a stream along my inner thighs, having flown from a more private disclosure.
It was obvious what had been done.
I had been dragging my feet upon the dirt road for three days and the French countryside remained wild and uncivilized. There was not a soul in sight-thanks to the Nazis no doubt. To think that I used to hate the Nazis and their unfair treatment of the Jewish people… How quickly someone's beliefs can change. It used to be that I could not go anywhere without seeing their soldiers and officers riding around and I wanted nothing to do with them. Nazis were evil for no reason which just made them all the more evil.
But I wanted revenge. I wanted to get those bastards for what they did to me. I wanted them dead before they could find me again. They said they would. I could not have been more thankful to see a puff of smoke in the distance, indicating that an automobile was on its way. And for the first time in my life, I was beyond relief to see Nazi vehicles headed my direction.
I studied my feet, caked in mud. I looked down at the hand which they might shake and saw blood upon my knuckles and my middle finger swollen from a break. I pulled my dress tighter in an attempt to cover more. I don't think it helped. The Nazi cars came closer and suddenly the fear of them not stopping overwhelmed me. What if they didn't realize I was a fellow German? What if they drove right past me? I had to make them stop. But how?
I thought about lying in the middle of the road but they would probably just consider me dead and run right over me. I'd seen them do it before, even knowing that those they ran over were still alive. If I just stood by and waved they would probably blow dust in my face as they continued on their way- mistaking me for a worthless peasant that they could step on. I'd seen them do that too. If I just stood in the middle of the road, they would shoot me. And yes, I've seen them do that. The fact is, I spent so much time trying to avoid Nazis I truly had no idea how to respectfully gain their attention. If that could be done at all, I hadn't seen that it could.
Their automobiles were closing the distance between us and I knew I had to think of something fast. I quickly unbuttoned what was left of my dress and stood in the middle of the street. As they approached, I opened my dress wide to reveal what had been etched into my stomach. They never told me what it said and I couldn't see beyond the dirt to read it but it was all I had.
The cars seemed to speed up and just when I thought all hope was lost I heard an officer yell, "HALT!" All the vehicles came to a dusty stop. I felt tears prick my lower lids. I'm not sure whether it was out of fear, happiness or pain but when I saw a Nazi uniform step out of the passenger side of the first vehicle I burst into tears.
He regarded me temporarily then signaled for the other officers to come forward and look. They did so in silence. They did not laugh as I had expected. They were utterly silent.
"Please, help me," I said.
The first man to step forward wore a colonel's uniform. He kept his eyes locked with mine and extended his hand. I slowly lifted my hand into his and he studied my broken finger.
"Colonel Hans Landa," he said. "But then you should know that since it is written on your stomach."
I looked up at him, teary-eyed and confused. I think he noticed. "Let me guess," he continued. "You were taken by a group of Americans that call themselves the 'Inglourious Basterds' and they let you go like this so you could spread fear into the hearts of all Nazi soldiers." I scrunched my forehead in further confusion as he went on to say, "And they carved my name into your stomach so that would ensure that you were taken to me. Am I correct so far?"
"No," I said softly.
"Which part?" asked the colonel.
"All of it," I said.
This time he wrinkled his brow in thought. He paused for a moment then gestured towards the cars. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to accompany us back into our vehicles," he said. "Rest assured you will be taken to one of our doctors, Miss…?"
"Von Braun," I said. "Ada Von Braun."
The colonel smiled but it did not reach his eyes. "After you, Miss Von Braun," he said and escorted me into the backseat of his car. The other soldiers loaded their vehicles and Colonel Landa slid in next to me, shutting the door behind him. I wrapped my dress around myself as the ignition started and they continued on their path down the country road.
New A/N: When I first started this story the film was still in theaters, there were only 2 other IB fics and none were for our dear Hans. I see we have grown in number and I love this! I'm sorry I had to delete the original posting but I look forward to the new material and continuing with all of you :)