Donny watched as the German soldiers began to drop with each gunshot. The Basterds were hidden so well that even he lost a few of them in the brush. He stayed within earshot, but lost sight of the rest of them from his hiding spot when they gathered the remaining Germans together. He took a drink from the flask that he kept in his bag, stripping off his heavy leather jacket. Ella's voice rang out, welcoming the Germans to France in words he didn't understand. Even though he despised the language, Ella made German sound interesting. He could hear the poise in her voice, confident beyond her years but every ounce of it earned. He hadn't really seen her at her most villainous yet, but he had a feeling that he was about to.
Aldo spoke next, asking the German officer for information. Donny began to pace, the ends of his bat in his hands, stretching his arms back and forth. He read through the names etched into the wood, his rage growing. It didn't take much for Donny to get mad these days, now that he was facing off against Germans as a job. He kept the fire stoked, accessing his fury with ease for situations just like this. General Alexander had remarked once that he had never seen a man have such control over seemingly never-ending anger. Donny had replied by telling him that he had control because he had the best outlet of all: beating Germans to death.
"Donny! You bring yourself over here. German Sarge ain't talkin."
His cue had come. Donny pushed through the underbrush, clear-headed and focused. All eyes were on him. Ella stood between him and the road, studying him. She had seen him use the bat before, but it was mostly self-defense when they accidentally discovered a German deserter a little while ago. Now he had a chance to show off.
The Sergeant kneeling in front of Aldo was petrified. It just encouraged Donny. The man was right to be afraid of him. After all the Nazis had done to his people, terrorizing them was the least he could do. He approached the German and reached for his tags, savoring the man's flinch when he yanked the chain off of his neck.
"These are mine now." Donny stuffed the tags in his pocket, stashing it to put with the others. He could almost hear the man's heartbeat, pounding out his last moments. The German bent his head, mumbling what he knew were his last words. Donny glanced at Wicki, who translated.
"He is asking for mercy."
That struck Donny as silly. Were his people shown mercy? There was no question. He put his bat under the German's chin, forcing him to look him in the eye and uttering a word that everyone knew in any language.
"No."
He grasped the bat with both hands and wound up, the muscle memory of his swing built into him from little league up through Varsity ball. His swing was textbook material, his weight on his back leg and his power coming through with a snap of his wrists. The crack of the German's skull was one of the most satisfying sounds Donny had ever rest of his swings weren't nearly as beautiful, but they were destructive. Dots of blood spattered his face and undershirt as the German became unrecognizable.
Movement from his right caught his eye. He looked up just in time to see Ella stop a German Private in his tracks as he tried to flee, annoyance in her face.
"Sie sind zu unterbrechen," she said. Donny imagined that she was scolding him. It was actually cute.
"Schlampe!" the Private said, and Donny knew that tone. That was the tone that men saved for women that did them wrong. Women they hated. Ella knew the word or the tone or both, because her face changed in an instant. The hatred in the German's voice was mirrored in her eyes as she smashed the butt of her rifle into his face. He crumpled to the ground, his hands holding the left side of his face. This was the Ella that Donny had been waiting to see, the one that he pictured when she told him about taking revenge on her father's killers. He watched her drop her gun and pull the glittering stiletto knife from her belt. She looked up, finding him.
"Hold him," she said, and Donny didn't hesitate to grab the German and pin his arms behind him. Donny had maybe forty pounds on the Private, making his struggles useless.
Ella knelt before them, toying with the knife. Later on, Wicki told Donny what she had said to the Private: she was debating on how to punish the soldier. Something about either cutting off his fingers and toes or marking him with tiger stripes. In the moment he didn't understand what she was saying but he listened intently, captivated. The Private shivered in terror, spitting out blood. Donny thought he saw a tooth, but that may have been wishful thinking. Ella tapped the blade of her knife on her lips, thinking for a moment. Years later, Donny would think of that image when he was missing her: the bright, clean blade against her skin, a thread of dark hair free from her braid, her eyes clear and pondering.
"Nein, ich sollte dies tun, statt," she decided, and Donny watched in awe as she grabbed the Private's face and split his cheek open with her blade. He held the man tight as he fought, staring at Ella. There was blood on her face now too, decorating her satisfied smirk.
"Aldo, my dear, I will turn him over to you."
Smiling, Aldo ambled over to them. Donny shoved the Private down, whose cries had turned into low moans. "Now, son, you gonna tell me what I need to know?"
Wicki had to come over and translate, and by that time Donny could step back. He wasn't going to try and run away again. Ella stood by and listened to the conversation, cleaning her knife with a handkerchief and taking in everything the German said. Donny watched for a moment, listening as she asked Wicki something. She seemed to enjoy the answer. While Aldo got the Private back on his feet, Donny picked up Ella's rifle and brought it over to her.
"What'd he say that made you so mad?"
"Schlampe. Means whore. Thanks," she said, slinging her rifle over her shoulder.
Donny raised his eyebrows. "He called you that? No wonder you busted him open."
She shrugged. "I've been called worse. This guy I could actually hit without a court martial," she said with a smile. "Made up for it a little with the second name."
"What was that?"
"He called me Wolfin. She-wolf." Her eyes lit up when she said the name.
"El, come on over here," Aldo called. She and Wicki traded places by the Lieutenant's side. Donny stared after her until Wicki popped open his cigarette case and offered one.
"Take one. You need it." He slipped one into his own mouth and lit it with a match, his gaze following Donny's. "I know I do."
Donny snatched one with a scowl. "Quit lookin' at her like that."
"You first," Wicki retorted.
Donny grumbled a little, lighting his own cigarette. Wicki was right. He needed one.
a/n: hey y'all! I'm back for a minute! I'm starting up again and I might have some surprises soon. I'll let y'all know!
