" Was ist das? Ich bat um eine Datei auf den Mann ermordet meine Männer!" What is this? I asked for the man murdering my men!
Hitler slammed his chubby little fist on the table, throwing the file to the floor and sending a heated glare to the informant who was shaking in his boots.
" a-aber dies ist der Schuldige, mein Führer!" B-but this is the culprit, my leader!
Hitler rubbed his freshly shaven chin in frustration, brows furrowed and breathing heavy. The informant could do nothing but hold his salute over his forehead in fear of disrespecting his lord further.
Adolf let out a shaky breath and clenched his eyes shut.
" Ich möchte die Straßen von Sizilien mit meinen Männern gefüllt, um für diesen Morden Abschaum suchen, " Der Stier". Verstehst du Mich?" I want the streets of Paris filled with my men to search for this murdering scum, 'The bull'. Do you understand me?!
The informant nodded his head eagerly and hurried his way out of the room and slammed the door.
Hitler sighed and rubbed his temple, plopping down onto his expensive chair. His eyed adverted to the floor and instantly met with the file. It was an outrage. And he wouldn't stand for it. No, the great Adolf Hitler, cleanser of the unclean would exterminate this rat.
Reaching over to the envelope, he slipped the identity picture and clenched it. He would have none of this.
Somewhere in The borders of France
The Apache tucked his Bowie knife underneath his arm to clap, continuing to eat his bagel.
"Whoa! Donny!"
"Hit 'im!"
"Bash 'is brains in!"
"Give 'em one for me, Donny boy!"
The big, bear like man breathed heavily, eyes glazed over with what could only be the anticipation of the kill. He clenched his bat tightly and searched the German, who at this point was crying to himself and squeezing his eyes shut, and ran his bat over the side of the sobbing man's head.
"You sure you ain't goin'ta spill..?"
His voice was low and dangerous. Donny wasn't going to lie. He wanted the German to refuse. It just meant he was able to taste the sweet vengeance of his kind more. The German sobbed even harder and refused to meet the big man's hard stare. Just a shake of the man's head was all it took for the Bear Jew to swing his bat at intense speed and power. The rest of the men whooped and hollered at the cringe worthy crunch when the baseball bat met with the German's skull. But Donny wouldn't let up just there. The adrenaline still pumped through his veins in thick pulses and he wanted more. Lifting the bat above his head, he continued to slam it down to the German's head. The poor sobbing mess that once cried to himself for his mother and family; his twin daughters that were soon to be eight the week after, lay lifeless on the ground whilst the Bear Jew repeatedly crashed his bat down on the bloody mess until it was soft and all that was below his solid bat was the forest floor that was now softened to a bloody, mushy concoction.
At one point during this little performance, Lieutenant Aldo Raine was considering stopping his Sergeant before he, he thought of the possibilities, went completely insane. But who was he to keep his men from the only entertainment in this dang blasted war?
Donny stared down at the gory mess that once lived, loved, and breathed with an insatiable hunger at the sight. He forgot who he was for a second and what he had become. The Donny Donnowitz that used to laugh with his Pa at the family barber shop on a Monday night, the Donny Donnowitz who could make any Boston gal swoon over him by a cheeky smile, wink, or flex of his big muscles, the Donny Donnowitz who could hit a home run without breaking a sweat, was gone. He no longer existed in this war. It had changed him, destroyed him, ripped apart his memories and dragged him away from all he knew.
And now all that was left was the blood craving, Nazi battering Bear Jew. Boy, if only his Ma could see him now. Would she be proud?
"C'mon, Donnowitz, let's get back to camp. Ya did good today."
But Donny couldn't take his eyes off of what he'd done. He wasn't listening to the Lieutenants words at all. All he could focus on was how beautiful the sight before him was. A strange curdling erupted inside of his stomach and he felt like he was going to puke. But he ignored it, focusing how the mud seemed to suck up the crimson liquid like a thirsty beast.
"Donny! Hurry it up!"
His bloodshot eyes snapped to the Basterds who were clearly leaving and he jogged over to the Lieutenant.
It was 1944 and the streets of Paris were bustling. It was a chilly winters evening and couples walked up and down the pavement arm in arm, nestled in their fluffy coats to protect them from the cold. Lights glowed and flickered over the city and heavy scents of burning tobacco and French cuisine wafted around corners and up alleys. The pubs and bars were just as busy and crowded on that cold snowy night, but one tucked away from the masses was the one that a certain blonde haired girl preferred out of all of them, La soleil bleu. It was literally translated to mean 'The blue sun', and was secluded. That meant she wouldn't have any trouble with the Germans who crawled the streets. The amount of Nazis stationed in northern France had increased rapidly. The girl suspected it was due to a rising number of Nazi murdering in those parts.
It was a valid enough reason, was it not?
As she sat there, swigging back her scotch and slamming the empty glass down onto the bar, her hazy, intoxicated mind thought through the possibilities of being caught, and what they would do to her if they found her. Probably a death penalty, she guessed. They might have their way with her first though. She was a proper Aryan Bitch. With blonde hair, blue eyes, that sort of thing. She must admit… she wasn't very full in the chest department. But that wasn't really counted for in that day and age. As long as you met the standards of the Fuckin' Nazi wife, you were accepted within their society.
The bar man, who was previously wiping down the bar surface with a stale, crumby rag noticed her lack of drink and smiled, bringing the bottle of scotch to the hem of the glass and pouring carefully.
"Je suppose que vous étiez pour une autre, mademoiselle?"I'm guessing you were up for another, miss?
The girl didn't meet his eyes but gave a curt nod whilst eyeing the liquor that lapped at the sides of the cup. She wanted so much to just swig all of the drink, bitter and face scrunching as it was. But as she picked it up and held it to her lips, she was met with the door slamming open and loud, friendly laughter filled the room. She guessed the Nazis had found what they were looking for that day.
God, she hated them.
The way they just waltzed around as if they owned the place, said anything they wanted, did anything they wanted, or, anyone. They made her sick.
She grimaced at the way they patted each other's backs, probably for snuffing out another Jewish family. The moment they entered, one German especially kept his eye on the mysterious woman at the bar, hidden by a hood. While his friends went and found a booth, he observed her from the coat hangers. Why was she wearing a hood inside? It was far too warm in the heated room to want to wrap up. Was she hiding something?
"Dieter, sind Ihre Füße kalt? Kommen Sie zu uns, um Gottes willen!" Dieter, are your feet cold?! Come and join us for god's sake!
Dieter's observations came to a halt when his comrades called him over. But he did take notice of how she froze at their words. He would definitely be watching her.
She sipped her scotch alone for the rest of the night, until he was sure she was positively smashed on the stuff. When they all left the low key pub, it was around about two o' clock in the morning and she had just about collapsed on the counter, her hood coming down slightly to reveal locks of blonde.
Dieter Hellstrom waited until his friends dispersed as well as most other people in the pub to follow a stumbling Marianna upstairs into the dark hallways. His steps were light just to be sure she wouldn't sense him near. But in all honesty, she probably wouldn't notice him if he slapped her across the face and screamed at her.
He'd seen her before. From somewhere he just couldn't put his finger on. Her fingers made an extremely slow job on unlocking the door, but as soon as the door was opened, she was shoved into the black room and the door slammed behind her. From what Dieter heard, she landed on the bed, but there was a noise that could only be a part of her body meeting with the rim. A loud smack that would have made him cringe. If he wasn't Dieter Hellstrom, that is. The room was small and smelled damp. The old floorboards strained under his heavy boots and cried out under the weight. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the girl trying to get up but failing due to the, according to his observations, 10 Shots of scotch at the bar below. Running his dark eyes over the room, he spotted a small oil lamp on a shelf just above the head board of the bed. Taking the zippo lighter out from the inside pocket of his coat, he lit the lamp. There was only a small amount of light that emanated from it, but it was enough for him to see the girl.
He tutted, folding his arms over his chest, he knew her from somewhere. He swore it. It wasn't like the great Dieter Hellstrom to forget faces. He was actually more irritated at himself than at the actual frustration of not knowing the identity of the woman.
He looked down at her. A small chuckle left his lips at that moment. She did look rather pathetic at that moment. Shuffling around on the bed, trying to rid herself of her clothes for sleep, and after just pulling an arm out of her jacket, she conked out.
Dieter rolled his eyes. There was no use. He couldn't remember. Pity.
He might as well of just left her alone. Taking one last look at her petty, passed out form, he left.
That night, Marianna had nightmares. She saw faces. Horrifically distorted and dismantled faces. They screamed at her and suffocated her. Even when she would reach out and eagerly rip the faces in two with her bare hands, they would just get worse. They would pull at her hair, scratch down her arms and legs, bite into her cheeks and so on. No matter how she tried to escape, they would follow her. Like malicious shadows that never left her alone, they tormented her and raped her soul.
Finally, the monsters left. And her eyes opened in shock as she sat up and panted wildly. Her hair was matted and her hair lines both front and back were soaked in warm sweat. She looked around the room and sighed. Where was she again? Her last memory was the stout, chubby man at the bar refilled her glass for the, what was it, sixth time?
She remembered bunch of Gestapo entering the building and that was it. Just then, her palm met with her forehead with a harsh smack, making her cringe from a throbbing headache. She really ought to be more careful about where and when she decides to go off on a tangent with her alcohol.
Downstairs, the bartender from the night before was replaced by a stocky woman with a large mole directly under her lip. Marianna winced at the woman. She looked like a pig.
"Eh bien?" Well?
The woman's low voice boomed throughout the tavern and Marianna didn't even glance her way, already at the door.
"Eh bien, quoi?" Well, what?
Compared to the bar maid, Marianna's voice was a bit more feminine and light, but was still husky and lowered from her burning throat, due to the scotch, of course. The bar maid threw her rag down onto the bar and pointed an accusing finger and the blonde woman who was once more hidden by a hood.
"Vous devez payer les frais !" You have to pay the fee!
Marianna stopped for a second before shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket, finding nothing but a few blank shells and some gum. Furthermore ignoring the woman, she opened the door, but when the woman began cussing loudly at her in French, she turned in the blink of an eye and aiming right at the woman was a small walther that was hidden in the inside pockets of her jacket. The manly woman gulped and held her hands up in the air, but it was too late. The bullet went straight through her head and into the glass cabinet behind her, shattering it into one million pieces.
Right, well this is the first chapter! I'll update soon enough :}
