R_S: Seriously, I am absolutely in LOVE with this movie. This was a little plot bunny that was hoppin around my head so I started writing the story in bits and pieces. Once I had about 15 pages of bits I was like hmm… if I don't post this I'm def never going to finish it, so what the hell.
So there are three OCs in this story, sisters as mentioned in the summary, whom you will find out about later. This will be Stiglitz/OC definitely, some Hellstrom/OC as well. Possibly Aldo/OC, if you guys want. Like I said, I just have bits and pieces and I have to string them together so you guys can feel free to make requests. I can't guarantee they'll make it into the story, but I'll try.
Anyway, it's pretty much just the Basterds in this chapter. I'm gonna try not to make it OOC, so lemme know if you have suggestions. Thanks!
Chapter 1
The Aftermath
American First Lieutenant Aldo Raine was pissed. No, pissed wasn't the right word for it. He was pissed before, now he was ready to punt a fucking puppy and strangle the bitch that got his men and him into this mess. She could have politely declined the drunken soldier, sent him back to his friends so the four of them could force down their drink and take their leave. But no, von Hammersmark had to let Hicox take over and fuck the entire operation. They were lucky. His men had been prepared for conflict, but the real German soldiers were caught unaware. Hicox was killed in the uproar, but Raine could give a rat's ass what happened to him. A bitter part of him wished the blond bitch had taken the fall too, retribution for making them fight in a basement. But she and his men were only injured, something he was secretly quite thankful for. She was proving to be more helpful now that she had botched everything up than when she thought she had things under control, although she was loathe admitting that any of what happened was her fault. Still, she readily supplied information about the premier's new location and Hitler's planned attendance. Of course, that helpfulness only stretched so far: all their intelligence was obsolete. As soon as the Reichstag heard the Basterds were in Paris, the film premier was cancelled and the place flooded with excess angry soldiers. If there were a lot of Nazis in Paris before, they swarmed like rats now. Their contact was frustrated and no longer as pleasantly compliant, if she ever had been, but nonetheless she covered their tracks and advised them well.
"Head south," she told them, "they expect you to head north to Germany in order to cause more trouble or west to make your escape off shore to Britain. Instead head south to the emergency contact near Montoire. I'll meet you there."
Making it from Paris to Montoire should have been a two, three day trip maximum. But with two of his men injured it took twice as long, nearly a week to reach the hideout beneath a dingy bar. By the time they got there, Bridget von Hammersmark was already waiting with further instruction from their contacts. While Wicki and Stiglitz were propped up on makeshift beds and further treated, she filled the soldiers in. Operation Kino was officially kaput; the Basterds were not to attempt to make their way into another film premier. But once again the blond bombshell was determined to make herself indispensable through the use of military intelligence.
"Rest up here until for a while and then head further south toward the Aquitaine region, near Spain. Franco won't officially enter the war, but he's certainly offering support to the Nazi powers. Every so often he invites important politicians of the Reich to vacation at his home. Rather than sitting as an open target in the water or drawing attention to themselves by plane, they often travel through France so the forest and mountains can offer cover. That's where you can intercept them. It won't be as grandiose as Operation Kino, but you'll still be able to take out some major players."
"Well that's mighty convenient," Aldo drawled, adjust his slouched position in the seat beside Stiglitz's calculating form, "'cept you haven't mentioned when they're headin' down there."
She only rolled her eyes in annoyance, scratching her knee above the cast, "That's because I don't know yet, they don't even know yet. They're still wrapping up the Nation's Pride debacle, so it might be a bit longer before they take any time off. It'll be a big game of hurry up and wait, but the rewards should make it worth your while. Besides, it'll offer time for your men to heal." She punctuated her sentence by lighting her cigarette, which she prepared during her little speech, and throwing a pointed look at the injured German beside him. Stiglitz's face remained impassive, but she could swear his eyes hardened into a glare as he stared her down. She thought it was a shame he was a psychotic Basterd, he was quite handsome and in another life she could have been attracted to him. Now, however, she simply thought of him as one of these disgusting, filthy soldiers.
"If they're going down to Spain the same way they're gonna come up, why can't we just do this the quick way n' pick them off when they leave France?" Donny demanded, stomping over from the corner and pointing an accusatory finger. Aldo raised an eyebrow as a soft murmur of agreement spread across the room. Stiglitz narrowed his eyes at the raucous Bear Jew's vulgar interruption. And for her part, von Hammersmark simply scoffed and blew out some more smoke.
"Because, Franco will send troops to accompany the Reich down to his estate; they always go directly there with his military escort. On the way back up, however, they are hesitant to return to work and responsibility, and they take their time, stopping in various villages and cities along the way to sample the French culture and women. They will be more heavily guarded on their way to France, as well as expected to appear at a certain time. The return trip will only have slovenly enlisted men, and it may even be days before anyone realizes they've missed any appointment. The OSS has already approved the assignment. They're calling it Operation Leisure."
Aldo sniffed, "Name might be god awful but y' can't argue with that logic. Si'down, Donny." Donowitz glared at the contact suspiciously, but returned to his spot in the corner. From there von Hammersmark and the Basterds discussed a few other aspects of the new mission before she took her leave to return to Germany. Apparently the majority of her work for the OSS was finished, and she was to begin shooting a new film.
Now if things had stayed that simple, Aldo would not have minded. He and his men might not have been the most patient gentlemen alive, heck they were probably the least patient gentlemen alive and most of the time they weren't even gentlemen, but they had a fairly good set-up. Their hide-out beneath the sleazy bar was little more than a filthy glorified speak-easy, but they were sheltered and relatively safe to rest and heal. They even snagged the occasional drink from upstairs. Unfortunately, life is just never that simple. A few days later a German platoon stopped into town and decided that the upstairs bar was a favorite hang-out. The proprietor was none too disconcerted by this and asked the Basterds to leave. It was just as well, Aldo figured; staying in the middle of a town swarming with Nazis he wasn't allowed to kill while his two injured men healed was probably a bad idea. So even though most of his men weren't happy about it, especially Donny, they packed up all the medicine they could carry and stowed away from the town. They headed south, as per Fraulein von Hammersmark's instructions, and slowly made their way toward the southern border. About fifty kilometers from the Spanish border, they found a convenient wooded cave in the mountains where they made their camp. The trip should have only taken a week, but once again the travel time had more than doubled to a little over two weeks. By the time they got there Wicki and Stiglitz were in worse shape, if that was even possible, and they had no connection to German intelligence. All in all, Aldo figured he and the Basterds were pretty fucked. And that brought him to where he was, sitting in a cave and plotting Bridget von Hammersmark's murder via strangulation. His men were tired and cranky, there wasn't enough food, and they were running out of cigarettes. Stiglitz was healing, but he might have been developing a slight infection. He was in a great deal of pain, even if he tried to hide it behind his stoic façade. Wicki, however, definitely had an infection and was fighting off a fever. He would slip in and out of consciousness and sometimes lucidity. Today, however, luck seemed to be on their side. Wicki was awake and coherent, and Stiglitz genuinely seemed to be in less pain than usual and not just hiding behind masculinity. The men were loitering around, playing dice and silently existing. The tension and desire to get back into action was palpable, and Aldo just wished he knew a local contact so he touch base with the OSS and find out just what the fuck was going on. More than that, he wished they just knew exactly where the fuck they were. They were near a tiny village just outside Pau, that they knew. On a clear day, if they looked up the small mountain the cave was on, they could see in the distance a large white manor sitting at the top. They didn't know who lived there or what was going on, just that they were going to need help very soon.
"Hey Wicki," Kagan called from the other side of the cavern, "you awake?" They each took turns babysitting the injured men, and today was Kagan's day to watch them. Stiglitz wouldn't accept much help, but Wicki needed to be checked for cognizance and clarity every so often.
"No," he shot back with a grin, "I'm dreaming about fucking your sister." The Basterds shared a laugh at their friend's expense and he pouted, mumbling about how he was only trying to help.
"Aw now don't feel to bad, Kagan," Donny laughed, clapping a heavy hand on the younger man's shoulder, "he's only picking on your sister 'cause he's afraid to go after your mom. She loved me so much he don't think he can please her as well as I did." This earned a fresh bout of laughter from the group and a glare from the private.
"Yeah, well maybe one of these days someone'll give your mom a pity fuck, since that's the only way she'll ever get any."
Just as a fight was about to break out between the two, Stiglitz silenced them suddenly. Faintly, two male voices could be heard approaching. After spending so much time in the country, most of the men had picked up some bits and pieces of the language here and there. None were anywhere near fluent; some could barely pronounce a single word, although Wicki and Stiglitz seemed to have a good ear for it even though proper pronunciation escaped them. Still, the Basterds had mastered the art of picking up important details from eavesdropping on conversations. If the weren't discovered, this could serve to be the connection to the outside world they had been waiting for. Slowly the men pushed themselves against the walls and floors of the cave, guns clutched tightly, and peered out at the approaching figures. They were two young men, probably in their late twenties or early thirties. One was taller and gangly, though obviously younger, with messy brown hair and a hunting rifle clutched in his hands. The other was a stocky blond with his gun over his shoulder clutching a few rabbits. The two men collapsed onto a log just beneath the cave, panting. As the tall one took a swig from the canteen, the blond spoke.
"We can't go any farther up, that's passing onto someone else's property. So what do you think of it down here compared to up near Paris? Better hunting, no?"
His friend laughed, passing him the canteen, "Absolutely. But not as many beautiful women, I'm afraid. Or have I just missed them?"
"No, I'm afraid most of the good ones are taken. There used to be Michelle Allard, but now she's Michelle Michaud, and if you start making eyes at my wife I'll have to kill you." The men shared a laugh before he continued, "As for single girls… Genevieve Babineaux is rather lovely, I think."
"And from what I understand, so does half the town. And if she's the town beauty, I think I may have to head back north!"
"Oh I never said she was the town belle, I just said that she was pretty. No, that title actually goes to a newcomer. An American if you can believe it!"
"What?! Man, you're full of shit." His friend couldn't believe it, and for that matter neither could the Basterds. They each shared a look, stringing the words 'beauty,' 'American,' and 'girl' together and wondering what a pretty American girl was doing in Nazi occupied Germany.
"No, it's true. She's our neighbor, owns the land up the mountain, from that ridge on." He turned and gestured to the ground just beneath the mouth of the Basterds' cave. The soldiers froze and clutched their guns even tighter as the two men looked, but thankfully they couldn't see the hiding men past the protruding root covered in leaves. Still, they were starting to gather that perhaps they were on the pretty American's land.
"Well," the man continued, "she and her sisters own it. There are two of them, each sort of pretty in their own way. But she's something else entirely. They live alone up there, just the three of them."
"Oh now the suspense is killing me," the brown haired man glanced back up the mountain at the house on the peak, "now I'm dying to know about the sisters. Don't leave me hanging, Guillaume. What do they look like?"
"Well, the oldest is Celia. She's tall and thin, hard looking with wavy brown hair and icy blue eyes that'll cut right through you. Some of the men in the village think she's ugly because she has two scars on the left side of her face, one on her upper lip and one on her eyebrow. But I think she's the second prettiest sister, in an intimidating kind of way. She's rather standoffish and unpleasant, a no-nonsense kind of woman. It's kind of sexy!" the men shared a laugh, and the brunette teased him momentarily, comparing his description of Celia to his wife's docile nature.
"The middle sister, Phoebe, I don't think is all that pretty. She's not quite as tall as Celia, but more willowy looking and rather homely I think. She's got this unusually colored blond hair and blue eyes like her sister, but they're not icy or calculating in the same way. She's kinder and a lot tamer, that's certain. She's as resigned as Michelle but without the charm."
"And the third one? Is she the belle de la ville you keep talking about?"
Guillaume nodded, "Yes, the youngest: Rosa. Her sisters are pretty, but she's absolutely gorgeous. She has Celia's hair, but none of her disposition. She's the smallest and the sweetest, with big gold eyes like a baby deer. Full pink lips, rosy cheeks, a smile that can light up a room… and she's much better endowed than her sisters." With a cheeky grin, he made the outline of a woman's curves in the air and the two shared a loud laugh at the raunchy joke. The Basterds were trying to figure it out. So far they had caught a brief description of three sisters, Celia, Phoebe, and Rosa, though they didn't understand half of it, and they wondered how a Michelle fit into it.
"Well with those beauties living all alone on the mountain, maybe I'll have to go up and offer my services." The brunette waggled his eyebrows and laughed, but his friend did not share his mirth.
"In all seriousness, I wouldn't recommend it. Celia chased away Rosa's last suitor with a shot gun. I don't think she really knows how to use it, but still the threat's there. It seems the princess will stay locked away in her ivory tower." The only word the Basterds caught there was gun, which worried them slightly and piqued their interest.
"Huh… what are they doing here anyway?" Getting up, Guillaume stretched.
"I don't know the whole story but I'll tell you what I do know on the way back home. If I don't get these rabbits back early enough, Michelle will have a fit about cooking them." To the Basterds' disappointment, the two men took their leave before they could get all the details they wanted, laughing about married life the whole way. The soldiers waited a few minutes to speak, making sure the men were far enough from earshot that they would not be discovered. The group quickly then compared what they were able to make out in order to piece together a more complete understanding of the situation. They were not able to catch everything, but most had caught the gist of it. Three beautiful sisters owned the land they were currently hiding on, and despite the fact that they apparently had a gun, this was the first good new they had heard in a long while.
"Well gentlemen," Aldo drawled, "What d'ya make of it?" Stiglitz grunted, lighting up a cigarette.
"All we gotta worry about are three broads," Donny shrugged, "we really lucked out."
Wicki nodded in agreement, voice thin with pain, "We should definitely remain on their property as a base, it's much safer, but…"
"We should move to higher ground to avoid the neighbors when they go a-huntin' so it don't become Basterd season, yer right." Aldo finished the corporal's thought with a nod, "We'll move out tonight and find some place to sit tight away from huntin' surrender monkeys. Don't think we gotta worry about them little ladies taking us down, so we should be fine. From there we can figure out how we can make contact with base, at least we'll have a safe camp."
"I still wanna know what the hell three little American girls are doin' in Nazi territory." Donny demanded loudly.
Aldo nodded sagely, "So do I, Donny, so do I."
End of Chapter
R_S: Not great but not terrible, I think. One of those annoying yet necessary chapters to move things along and set the scene… lemme know what you think! =)
