Disclaimer : What do I own ? Hmmm ... *thinks* I own Crawford's glasses , Ken's suede boots , Aya's faded denims , Omi's braided bonnet and Hitler's mustache .
Do I own Weiß ? (^.^);;
Guess what ?! (^.~)
Heh . (~.~)
As a matter of fact ... (O_O)
I don't . (Ø_x);;
*tramples away with Schuldich's wig and weeps*
*Note : Italicized he , his and him's all refer to Ken .
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Brad Crawford was an American .
He was in fact , a very prominent figure both in the business world and politics ; that is , before he defected -
... to the Axis side .
The reason to that was because he firmly believed in the Fuhrer's grand scheme ; he understood the logic and the sense in the striking design of the Fuhrer's intricate mind and thought that those who opposed him were fools .
The weak should not at all survive in this world ; only the flawless race should remain , and the only way to accomplish that is to erase all the unworthy ... if that means killing them all .
He had proven his worth to the great man , and was rewarded by the rise of his rank in Fuhrer's organization . Truly , Hitler could appreciate talent when he sees it , and Crawford was one of the very few whom he admitted to his confidence .
He pulled aside the canvas door to his tent and entered quietly .
His orders had been obeyed to the letter and the boy was gagged and tied to a wooden chair , although still unconscious . He was covered with mud and soil from his graceless fall ; from his tousled chestnut hair to the suede of his thick boots .
Cobalt eyes framed in wire-rimmed glasses observed closely , scrutinized – evaluated the young boy before him and surprised himself by finding no fault to him as he was wont to do on every occasion .
Every detail , every feature was faultless . It was as if Crawford had been fated to have this fine specimen of the human race ... as if the proof to their cause had finally been found ...
Even the Fuhrer would be pleased .
The boy's skin was a golden hue , his hair glossy with health ; though coated with brown earth . His legs were long and finely toned; his fingers soft and graceful for a boy .
He now knew why he didn't send the boy to be shot ... he was perfection in physical embodiment and it amazed him that today , in the most unusual manner , the young demigod fell right into his arms .
He was the kind that they were fighting for !
It was the faultlessness – the perfection that Crawford saw in him that could correctly personify the Aryan race , the race that should reign supreme .
And now , he belonged to Brad Crawford .
Perfection ...
† † †
Aya was caught . He had no idea what course of action to take .
On one hand , he wanted to leave and to find where Ken was , but he did not know what kind of trouble he was in and he might just run into the Nazi soldiers that he was sure was out there ; judging from the caliber of the guns in the volley earlier . On the other hand , if he waited too long , the Germennschaft kid ( he refused to address him by his name ) might be harmed or killed . Unbeknownst to him that it was the soldiers whom he was trying to avoid that was causing him this anxiety .
Growing impatient and no longer having the fortitude to wait for the stranger to rouse , and smelling salts not being handy ; he decided to do something about it .
The water from the well was cold .
He was not the kind of man who did anything for anyone else's convenience ; which was why he did not bother at all to heat the water that he was just about to spill on the boy's face .
The blond boy awoke with a loud gasp and gagged . His shocked blue eyes met the placid violet ones and he was suddenly aware of his mission and he choked out the words he meant to say . " Please ! Please help him ! The soldiers have him , they might shoot him . Oh God ..." And once more , the diminutive frame was racked with painful sobs .
" Where is he ?"
Aya didn't mean to sound harsh , but he couldn't help it , he always sounded like that to everyone - even in the 'other boy's' company .
" He's ... he's in the ... clearing beyond the forest ." Omi uttered between sobs , his eyes red from crying .
It was his horrifying past all over again and he was once more powerless to do anything about it .
" How many soldiers ?"
" Fifteen ... maybe twenty ."
The violet eyes narrowed sharply . Twenty soldiers ? What could they be doing out here ? Of course they would be armed to the teeth . Nazi soldiers are never dispatched without an ample supply of weapons , God knows that Aya was the best shot in the world , he would shoot his way through the troop without blinking an eye, but what he wasn't afraid of a battle ... he had seen and been in more of those than anyone could imagine ... what scared him is that in the middle of the fray , someone could kill the kid ... and that may be more than he could shoulder .
His mind went to full gear as he tried to decide the best course of action to employ but not even he could think of a good way to kill all of the bastards without harming the boy .
" Go back to your house -."
As an afterthought , he added almost threateningly , his chill violet eyes narrowed into a pair of sharp slits . " Don't speak of this to anyone , I don't need more meddlers on my hands ."
Without another word , he armed himself with a dangerous-looking sniper rifle and slung the snakeskin pouch filled with pointed bullets over his able shoulder .
He gave a final look upon the sobbing boy , before disappearing into the quiet , snow-blanketed terrain , with the door closing softly behind him .
† † †
The boy had groaned in pain as he opened his eyes ...
... and Crawford saw the most brilliant grey eyes he had ever witnessed in his entire life ...
† † †
Oh God ... Ken had thought as he opened his eyes to the sights of the American ... the American ! Standing so near in front of him .
He was so tall and imposing , Ken didn't know whether he should be afraid or he should admire that tall profile watching him with those midnight eyes .
Briefly , he wondered where Omi was ... but if he was not with him , he would have certainly gotten away from the soldiers . No marksman could hit him from that impossible angle ; except of course , Aya ...
... but of course , they weren't Aya ...
... Aya was ... Aya was ...
His thoughts crashed back to his present predicament . He had been caught . And most probably he was going to be shot in front of a pre-made grave and be forgotten forever .
† † †
R_M : So ...
I've been having trouble with my browser . It refuses to load the updated page of FF.net so I couldn't see my new reviews for D.D.
Just wanted to tell you that right now my other fic , Sword Buried Deep is now suspended till further notice . I suddenly have lost the urge to write it , but hopefully I will continue it given the proper inspiration probably sometime this year . I know some will be disappointed or even a little mad ; sorry .
Anyway , you still have this fic ne ?
Thanks for the continued support .
