Author's Notes: Hey there, so… Give my shit a shot, I know you wanna. Who can say no to a nice Nazi killin' story? Well, I can't.

Disclaimer: I'd be really honored to own em all, but sadly don't, I'm just borrowin' em for a bit of playin' and will gladly return em without too much damage.

Paris, France March 1945

19-03-1945, 11-37pm

Mariza blinks to adjust to the complete darkness of the forest, but barely can see any further than an arm's length away from her. Suddenly she feels the distinctive feeling of a blade pressed lightly against her throat. Her breath hitches – she hasn't bargained for that, even though it is a rather evident conclusion to draw. It would have been crazy to think that the men haven't heard her following them, no matter how cautious she has been. Now, another body is pressed against her back and an arm is holding her own ones in a tight grip on her back.

"Denken Sie nicht einmal daran, einen Mucks zu machen, Mädchen." says the Austrian. The woman snorts indignantly instead of an actual answer and stands still, "Wer sind Sie?"

"Mariza und du?" she asks.

"Mariza wie, hm?" he prods.

"Mariza Hohenberg, du Scheißkopf. Vor 'ner Weile habt ihr mir doch noch zugehört, also lass los.", she spits.

"Mariza Hohenberg? Die deutsche Sängerin?" the one with the funny accent gives notice of himself.

"Nein, Hitler, wer sonst?" she pipes up sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Hohenberg wie Oberst Hohenberg, das kleine Arschgesicht?" the Austrian asks.

"Ja. Und wer seid ihr Spinner?" she answers.

"We should kill her. Now." the Austrian says.

"I think your Lieutenant should make that decision." the one with the accent says. Now that he's speaking English, Mariza can clearly hear he's an Englishman.

"I can still understand you, you fucking idiots." she pipes up, "Just cause I'm German doesn't mean I can't speak a few other languages. So, who the fuck are you arseholes?"

"Oh, I am sure you heard from us." the Austrian laughs drily.

"Hm. You are Austrian and you are an Englishman. Which makes me believe that you couldn't possibly be part of the infamous group of Americans the maniac of a brother refers to as the Basterds." she taunts.

"See, doll, and that's where your smartass way of thinking goes wrong." responds the Austrian, "Come."

He drags Mariza along, the knife still at her neck. Who is that girl? He doesn't like her, that's for sure. He eyes the Englishman, who doesn't seem all too happy about the way he treats the Fräulein. Tha, Fräulein! God, he gets sick at the thought of how many nazi cocks that girl probably did have to suck to be that successful – that isn't sheer luck. The man tries to kill the voice in the back of his head which tells him that he's being a dick and that he heard her sing – she's quite good. But what does Hitler's favorite little blondie do in a slightly ruddy French bar singing American jazz songs? Nags the voice. He wants it to shut the fuck up. He wants to be hateful right now. It's Mariza fucking Hohenberg, which American – and Jew for that matter - wouldn't hate her? Her brother is one of the most feared Nazi Colonels whose name stands on the Basterd's list directly next to the Jew Hunter's. The girl is as well known as her brother: with just 24 years of age she is the most booked and famous singer Germany has ever put forth. Her face is known everywhere, thousands of girls want to be as blonde, as curvy and as fair skinned as her. Even her eyes are blue as the sky. Those thoughts don't do anything for the Austrian's temper though, they just infuriate him further.

When they reach camp, Aldo and the others are still all up, sitting around the fire talking and laughing. Aldo spots them first, a frown set upon his face as soon as his eye land on the girl.

"What have you brought us with you there, Wicki?"

"A Hohenberg. She found it intelligent to follow us around." the Austrian answers in a steady calm voice, surprised that he can contain from letting his temper get the better of him. He knows his Lieutenant well enough to be aware that he doesn't like it when his men make their revengeful bloodthirstiness the top priority over being in their right mind and endangering others through that. The others' talking has died down now and they are focusing on the arriving three: their fellow Basterd, the Englishman and the blonde girl.

"She followed ya? Well, well-" he said while walking towards them, Wicki's knife at it's place at Mariza's throat, "what'r we gonna do with ya, blondie?" He twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers and walked around her and the Austrian.

"Kill ya, pro'ly a good fuckin' idea…" he muses, walking away from her towards the fire where the men are sat, "What d'ya think, Hirschberg?"

"Sounds damn good to me, Lieutenant!" laughs the Private which earns him a few encouraging shouts from his fellow men.

"Ya speakin' any English, doll?"

"Actually I do. I'd find it quite interesting to see your attempt on the German language, though." she smiles.

"Ah, ya've got yerself some balls 'ere, dear." he laughs. His laugh isn't pleasant, she finds herself thinking. "Wicki, you can leave her be now." he commands towards the man holding the girl before turning his attention to her, "Sit down, girl."

"So, I'm getting the famous speech now?" she says after plopping down on the ground near the fire and crossing her arms in front of her chest. She looks at the men. They don't look as threatening as she has imagined to. Three of them look at her with unhidden disgust, but she could always handle open hate towards her person better than the opposite of it. The tall one looks like he's ready to kill her. The short one next to her gives her a shy smile which she returns kind of gladly – no need to whip the hate up. The two who have captivated her talk silently with the man who seems to be the leader. The men are dead silent, staring at her. She isn't afraid, she tells herself, because that's exactly what they want and she doesn't want to give them that satisfaction. The three men have finished talking now and the leader walks up to her again and sits down in front of her cross-legged.

"So, blondie, I'm rather conf'dent that ya've heard a gr-e-at deal 'bout us, haven't ya?" he slurs in what she thinks to be a slightly creepy Southern accent.

"Oh, so you're interested in Nazi pillow talk?" she smiles.

"If that's where ya gettin' your information from, blondie." he conters with a sly smile playing on his lips.

"No, it's not." she says amusedly.

"What've ya pretty little thing heard 'bout us?"

"You are the Basterds, a group of Americans who was sent here to kill as many Nazis as you can possibly manage to." she pauses for effect, then continues in a stern voice, "You are Lt. Aldo Raine. I assume that fellow over there who was so kind as to bring me here is Cpl. Wilhelm Wicki since he is Austrian." she pauses again then fixes her eyes on the tall man who still stares at her intimidatingly, "I guess that charming little guy here is Sgt. Donowitz." she smiles and then fixes her eyes upon the group of three men, "PFC Hirschberg, that's you." she points at the one in the middle, "The other two of you are called Kagan and Sakowitz, both PFC's too, I assume." then she turns to the man who has smiled at her before, but eyes her warily now, "PFC Utivich, I think." then she turns around again to face the second of her captivators, "I don't know who you are yet, but you don't belong here, you're an Englishman."

"Fine observer, blondie. Who's told ya that hell load of interesting stuff?"

"An 'acquaintance' who rambles on and on about his greatness. He has the joy to question the Privates you mark and let go and I remember the stuff I find interesting." she answers nonchalantly.

"Ya acquaintances with ol' Adolf?" the leader asks incredulously.

"No, duh, Hitler gives a shit about what you're doing here. It might spoil a dinner appointment for him and maybe cost him a few nights' sleep, but he feels damn safe in his big house in Berlin."

"Ah, sad sad. That really hurts our feelin's a d-a-mn lot, right guys?" he laughs what is meet with a few laughs, "Enough o'the fun stuff. Let's get down to bus'ness. See, we're kinda caught between the fuckin' devil 'n the d-ee-p blue sea, right? Cause ya found our base 'n we can't fuckin' afford ya to run off to ya fuckin' Nazi brother 'n tell 'im shit, got it so far? So, Nazi broad, what're we s'pposed t'do now? 'Cause see, we ain't big on killin' women or children, that's Nazi bus'ness. 'N you're an entertainin' one at that."

"Well, I don't see the problem. Don't kill me." she says matter-of-factly. Suddenly, there's a noise coming from the trees surrounding them. A few of the men draw their weapons and point them towards where the noise came from. Then, a tall man with blonde really short hair emerged from the trees and the men put their guns away.

"'Ah, Stiglitz, what'a ya say 'bout killin' that d-a-mn nice German broad we have got us 'ere?"

The addressed man walks closer towards them and eyes the female captivate suspiciously. As he comes closer he blinks once, twice- Then he shakes his head and lets out a laugh, what confuses the other Basterds quite a lot - that isn't exactly the behavior they are used to from their German brother of sorts. Also the girl looks slightly startled.

"No." he responds.

"What 'r my ears hearin' 'ere, Stiglitz?" Lt. Raine asks. Surely he must have misunderstood his man. The blonde was always eager at the chance of killing some Germans.

"I just suggest that killing that girl wouldn't be a good move." is all the Lieutenant gets for an answer.

" 'N why's that?"

"Because there aren't many people I know who hate Nazis more than her." his response comes quickly, leaving all of the men quite startled.

Translations:

Denken Sie nicht einmal daran, einen Mucks zu machen, Mädchen. Don't even think about making a sound, girl.

Wer sind Sie? Who are you?

Mariza und du? Mariza and you?

Mariza wie, hm? Mariza what?

Mariza Hohenberg, du Scheißkopf. Vor 'ner Weile habt ihr mir doch noch zugehört, also lass los. Mariza Hohenberg, you shithead. You've just been listening to me a few moments ago, so let go.

Mariza Hohenberg? Die Deutsche Sängerin? Mariza Hohenberg? The German singer?

Nein, Hitler, wer sonst? No, Hitler. Who else?

Hohenberg wie Oberst Hohenberg, das kleine Arschgesicht? Hohenberg like Colonel Hohenberg, the little fucker?

Ja. Und wer seid ihr Spinner? Yes. And who are you madmen?