A little one-shot inspired by the film Inglorious Basterds. I do not own any characters, or concepts, except my own, Vaughn. Reviews would be appreciated, just so I can get some feedback if it's good or bad. Enjoy!
Hugo Stiglitz crept silently up the wooden stairs, each foot falling with deliberate care as not to utter a sound. Word had spread fast of a sniper who had been single handedly keeping troops at bay from the small narrow bridge. While the bridge couldn't carry tanks across, it was still a valuable vein that kept the German Army armed with supplies and men, according to reports. Stiglitz had drug himself through the most atrocious mud and over the ranks of dead swollen bodies as he climbed the crumbling bank to the sniper's side. There was just a farm house that had sat on the opposite of where he was, and it seemed the sniper had established themselves a sweet little bungalow in the loft of the barn. He had tasted the fury of the sniper's bullets too, a large caliber that fired too fast and rattled too loud to be a convention rifle. Slowly he crested the final step, standing at the threshold of the barn loft where the sniper should still be posted. Hugo drew his pistol, and kept his knife gripped at he hilt of his gun, ready to sling the blade if need be. This was it. This was his moment.
He peered under the vaulted roof and around the few disheveled hay bales in search for the western facing window where he had last seen the sniper firing from. It was a perfect vantage point, with the only access point that faced the bridge. The body of a dead German infantry man lay shredded in a heap among the hay, his body riddled with holes. Perhaps he was trying to flee from sort of assault on the barn when Allied troops had attempted to flush the sniper out. The number of small twilight holes perforating the barn walls was indicative of a firefight. He stalked closer to the western faced, catching a glimpse of the fading light of dusk pour through the opened window, and the blackish-blues of a thick gun barrel pointing out the window. Stiglitz pulled a small mirror from his pocket and angled it to see if he could spot the enemy, and caught the outline of someone bedded in the hay. How unfortunate for them that they had succumbed to the grips of sleep. This was his chance to make it up close...and personal.
He stalked towards the target, finger on the trigger and the newly sharpened knife in the other. His heart beat slowly and with determined calm, his hand steady and aim true. There was nothing he loved more than killing Nazis.
The sleeping sniper stirred from their bed, the ruined fabric of a black cloak rolling back to reveal their face. There was something that made him hesitate for a second, and that was all it took.
"I was waiting for you, Hunter." The coy German voice lulled, with an air of distinct cockiness. The sniper was no ordinary person, but a woman. She looked too relaxed laying there in the straw, and gave him a formidable once over.
"Hugo Stiglitz." She said his name with a laugh, a cutting ironic laugh that prompted his finger to choke the trigger a little harder.
"I know why you're here. And put that damn gun away. I'm not going to kill you. In fact, I'm glad you came." The nameless sniper shifted uncomfortably where she sat, her left leg stiff. That's when Stiglitz noticed the excessive blood that had seeped into the wooden floor boards beneath where she was sitting. She was dying and she knew it. He lowered the pistol and holstered it, pulling out a crushed pack of cigarettes and lit one. He had a feeling this was going to be an interesting affair.
"How do you know who I am?" Sure he was infamous, but he didn't think he had such a recognizable face. The woman smiled knowingly, as if she was aware of something he wasn't.
"Every body knows Hugo Stiglitz." She announced with flair, accentuating his name.
"You're the Hunter. You're the reason every German keeps one eye open when he sleeps. Come. Sit with me." She patted the floor next to her.
"Don't make this so awkward. I know you have places to go and more Nazis to kill. Sit." She insisted. She didn't appear threatened by his presence, and in fact, seemed to welcome it.
Cautiously he came closer and inspected the area she had gestured to. The gun she had been using to terrorize the bridge was a MG 42. No wonder it had sounded like a jackhammer. A salvaged scope had been crudely mounted between the set of iron sights, one lens cracked through and through. It was short of amazing that she been able to defend the bridge single-handedly. Sensing little foul play, he came closer, looking over top of her as he took another drag. He should stab the bitch now and get it over with, but in truth it was his first time murdering a woman. The stranger looked up at him with sad, almost pleading eyes.
"And who might you be?" He finally asked, breathing out a cloud of smoke casually. The woman eyed his mouth jealously.
"I'm nobody. But since you asked, my name is Vaughn." She gave him a quirky grin, her eyes seeming to light up. Stiglitz noticed her eyes were fixated at the cigarette between his lips, the look of hunger pining behind that friendly gaze.
"Vaughn." He mused, the name rolling off of his tongue rather easily. It was strange name for a German.
"Look, Hugo -do you mind if I call you Hugo?" She asked, hurriedly without really paying attention. Lazily, Stiglitz shrugged his shoulders, just enough to show he didn't care. It was all about to come to an end soon.
"Look Hugo. I know you're a man of few words, so let's get down to business, shall we?"
Warily, Vaughn reached inside her coat, acknowledging Stiglitz's prone blade with a glance before she met his eyes. Slowly, she produced a small thin tin and popped it open, revealing a lone cigarette stashed inside. She tucked the cigarette between her lips and tossed the tin to the floor. Without asking Hugo flicked open his lighter and leaned down to offer the open flame out for her to ignite the tip. She smiled a thank you with her eyes alone.
"What makes you think I'm interested in making a deal with Nazi scum like you?" He countered as he stood back up, producing a hearty chuckle from his counterpart.
"Nazi? Oh, how you wound me!" She feigned grief, followed by a fit of laughter. Stiglitz was starting to wonder if she was all there in the head. Then again, dead men did strange things. From the way her cheeks were so flush and her brow damp, she looked as though she might have had a fever.
"Then what are you? Clearly you hold no love for the Allies." The number of dead men lining the banks around the bridge told a bloody mangled story.
"I fight for my countrymen. I fight for the green fields and the small families who tried to niche out a living through this hell."
She paused to blow a stream of smoke from her nostrils.
"I grew tired of watching Gestapo raid their homes. Dragging people from their beds at night and answering their screams with their guns. And the Allies! Hah! They were no better. The English, the Americans, all of them." Something in her carefree tone changed, her words becoming venom.
"I watched them kick in their doors, shoot the men and rape the women before they killed them. It made me sick." Vaughn let out a ragged sigh, closing her eyes as the memories briefly surfaced. Suddenly, she got that crazy smile again.
"I took matters into my own hands. Everyone wanted the damn bridge so bad. So when the next small pack of dogs came waltzing in, I knew I had had enough. I slit their throats while they slept in the barn and took what supplies I could. And from then on, I have made it my duty to hold this bridge. No one crosses it without me knowing."
In a way Stiglitz admired her profound stand-alone complex. It was of similar circumstances that he had taken a vow to exterminate every Nazi solider he could find.
"What about that solider over there?" He asked, gesturing to the riddled corpse of the German infantryman over yonder.
"He died trying get to me. He came so fast up those stairs yammering orders at me, I think he was yelling faster than my gun could fire." The memory elicited a snort of satisfaction.
"And what about me?" Stiglitz ventured next.
"I let you come over. Once I spied your face through my cross-hairs, I knew it was fate that brought us here."
"Fate, huh?" He contemplated, finding the end of his cigarette too close to his mouth than he would have preferred. He only had one left in his pack now.
"So what's your proposition?"
"Do you like pie?" The bluntness of her question caught him completely off guard. Before he could even try to make sense of it, or think of an answer she continued on.
"I heard that men who like pie are exceptional kissers and are known for a good lay. Would you consider yourself one of those, Hugo?"
If he was shocked by her forwardness, it didn't show. He took a moment to actually consider her question carefully. Vaughn had seemed rather straight but on the edge of mad. Which made her, and this whole situation, unpredictable. Which made it very dangerous the longer he lingered here.
Nonchalantly, he responded with another shrug.
"I'd consider myself one of those."
"An exceptional kisser or a good lay?"
"Where are you going with this?" Hugo growled, throwing his expired cigarette on the floor and dragging his boot across it.
"I want you to fuck me." Instantly his eyes met hers, his jaw tight as he guarded his expression. When he didn't say anything she prompted the conversation.
"Look, I don't have a lot of time left. And there are two things I want: a cigarette and a good lay. I've already had my cigarette, so now I'm looking for one last good fuck before I die. You could even be so sweet and open my throat when you're done so I don't have to languish here any longer. My duty here is done."
Finally Stiglitz composed his thoughts after her little blindside.
"What makes you think I'd fuck you? Who knows what you could have up your sleeve."
Vaughn leaned forward and grabbed the cuff of the leg she had been favoring, pulling up the tattered pant leg, and unsheathed her mortal wound. A bullet had caught her in the calf, splitting her high boot. The veins were beginning to turn black as the infection spread towards her heart. Sepsis.
"If this is your idea of having something up my sleeve, then I can say I couldn't have orchestrated anything finer."
To this, Hugo scoffed. Vaughn finished her smoke as well, snuffing it out on the calf of her good boot. With a final exhale, she pushed the last of the smoke from her lungs.
"So?" Vaughn raised an eyebrow.
"It's a win-win for both of us, Stiglitz. I get one final go. And not only do you secure the bridge, you get to kill another German sympathizer."
Hugo Stiglitz pulled out his pack of cigarettes again, eying the lone ranger before he tucked it back into his pocket. He had a feeling he was going to need it later.
"Think you can throw your leg over a shoulder?" He asked sharply, reaching for the hinge of his belt. Vaughn returned his gesture with a wicked smile.
"I can do whatever you want."
Love and war had never gone together so well as they did at this very moment. It was dirty, gritty, and downright raw and carnal in every way he needed. And it had felt pretty dammed good too.
The woman who had introduced herself simply Vaughn was resting quietly against his bare and scarred chest, her mind still cascading though the all-consuming pleasure that had just ripped through her body moments ago. Hugo simply held her close, relishing the intimate warmth of the woman. It almost felt foreign to him at this point, but it was not unwanted. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was thoroughly enjoying her company, as if they were two kindred souls. Or perhaps they were just two war torn soldiers finding solace in one another in the only way they could. Gently he fished around in the mess of tangled clothes on the floor of the loft for his jacket, finding the crushed pack of cigs and his lighter. He drew the last one out, placing it between his lips and rolled the steel against flint with his thumb. After several drags he offered it to Vaughn.
"How generous of you, Hugo." She thanked him not only with her words, but her eyes again. There was something dangerous in them that he was growing rather fond of. She took a slow deep inhale, letting the smooth tobacco mingle with the lingering taste of Stiglitz's mouth.
"It's been a long time since I've had German." Whether she was referring to the cigarette or a man, he wouldn't know. She handed his cigarette back to him, stealing another long, deadly kiss.
"I rather miss the taste." She whispered low and sensually, her next kiss exploring deeper. Hell, did he want her again! Instead, he responded in kind, but eased her back against his chest where she had been snuggling with him before, his one arm tucked around her back. They laid in silence for a few moments longer before Stiglitz silently reached for his dagger. He was glad he had sharpened it earlier, it would make this a lot easier, and perhaps a bit less messy. With just his thumb over the crossguard, he was able to unsheathe the blade without a sound, drawing it close to his side.
"Hugo, I want to see you again." She said dreamily, her voice distant as the rapture of sleep and fever gripped tighter.
"You will soon, Vaughn." And it was the truth too. He didn't know how long he would be able to evade death, but he knew it was inevitable. Something in the back of his mind told him it wouldn't be too long either. She nestled in closer, sighing as she listened to the steady beat of his heart.
"Thank you." She murmured, taking in one last deep inhale of his scent. Hugo pressed his lips to her forehead compassionately, comforting the fading woman. He let her revel in the moment just a little longer, before quickly slipping the blade between her upper ribs in one swift and firm movement, eradicating her heart. She hardly even felt it, save for the short gasps she took as shock overwhelmed her senses. In seconds she was gone, the dangerous light fading from her eyes.
With sober execution, Stiglitz laid Vaughn to rest in the loft of the barn, tucking her jacket around her naked body with a certain tender care. She deserved some decency, considering her circumstances. Though as brief as it was, his encounter with this stranger that stirred a fleeting fire inside him that gad been extinguished years ago. Something in her dark blue eyes that drew him in, like some lethal weapon that he wanted to touch and fawn over. She had been a killing machine too, just like himself, but her moral lines were long blurred by the ravages of the war. Perhaps his were too.
The Basterd's camp was rather rowdy with commotion as they counted through their munitions. It seemed that once Stiglitz had made a move on the sniper, they were given a green light to open up on the scattered German Army who had managed to cross the bridge. According to the few captives they had managed to wrangle up before allowing Donny to pulverize their skulls in, the small company of soldiers were actually formulating plans to take the bridge back from the sniper. Apparently, no one really knew what side the sniper was shooting for.
Stiglitz had slipped in unnoticed in the middle of the night, taking a seat near the dim embers of the dying camp fire. Aldo had made a point to stay awake for the turn-coat German's return, cleaning his sidearm by the firelight.
"You find that sniper?" He asked carefully, eying Hugo's relaxed posture. There was only one reason that man was ever relaxed like that. The stern German glanced in his leader's direction, casting a stoic gaze with an affirmative nod.
"You were gone an awfully long time. What'd you two do, sit down and have a nice chat?" Aldo rather admired Stiglitz's work, but the man's aloofness sometimes left him wary of his actions.
"We did, actually." His words caught the Apache by surprised, rousing a dramatic lift of his eyebrows. He took out his dagger and began to wipe down the blade again.
"Really?" He answered in disbelief. If there was one thing he knew, Stiglitz was a man short of words. Definitely not one to make small talk.
"What'd you two discuss?"
Hugo gave a soft snort, smiling to himself, twilling the blade point against his forefinger.
"She asked me if I liked pie." Suddenly he started laughing, as if struck by some madness.
"The hell does pie have to do with anything?" Aldo felt a little baffled by the cryptic question.
"Apparently, she heard that men who like pie are exceptional kissers, and are known for a good lay."
It became a little clearer why he had detained the alleged sniper for so long.
"She, huh?" The Apache considered, the corners of his mouth pulling into a perceptive smile. It wasn't every day they had encountered with females of the German forces.
"Well, what'd you say to her?" There was a lull in the conversation, each man considering his own worth in the sack. Finally, Hugo cocked a smug grin that told all.
"Apparently, I'm both."
Hopefully you guys enjoy this as much as I did writing this. I tried not to get too OOC, but I need to move it along. Please remember to leave a review. Thank again!
-JJ