Hey! Hi! Hello! I'm writing this author's note on 01/10/23. I have recently started a revamp of this story including some changes and some differing chapter titles. Chapters one, two, three, and four have been finished thus far.
I ALSO SWEAR TO YOU THIS IS THE LAST TIME THIS STORY WILL BE CHANGED IN A MAJOR WAY.
I just wasn't happy with what I had written, and I felt that it wasn't going to lead up to my planned ending smoothly. So with that, I am tremendously sorry for being so confusing, and I apologize for taking such a long hiatus. I'm hoping to start hacking away at this story and maybe finish it this year (yeah right lol) Anywho. Thank you in advance for reading!

Three days, and no leads. Who would have thought that finding a specific SS officer in a sea of other SS officers would be so challenging?

Adopted Krista Washburn was born June 19th, 1992, in Chicago, Illinois. 2009 rolled around, and she graduated high school early, to enlist in the United States Marine Corps immediately after. After serving out her full eight year contract, she left the military life in search of something she had wanted to track down for quite some time. Her birth family. It wasn't until toward the tail end of 2018 when she uncovered a lead on her birth mother's father, AKA, her grandfather. She had reached out to him shortly after, asking permission to meet. He was more than happy to meet with her. She visited his family farmhouse in New Berlin, Wisconsin a week following their correspondence. She had learned that he had served in the Wehrmacht during World War II, and had emigrated from Germany following the war, and she found that fascinating.

"We never forgave your mother for giving you up." Krista recalled him telling her, his voice thick with a South German accent. "Once you were born, we never saw her again," he added sadly. Apparently, her birth mother had at least named her (Krista) before leaving the picture, never to be heard from again.

With Krista's birth mother being disowned from the family, she found herself the sole recipient of everything placed in her grandfather's will. She inherited the house as well as a quite healthy sum of money. A vast majority of said inheritance was tucked away safely in her bank, only to be used in a dire emergency.

When she finally moved into the house, she was in the process of putting away some things up in the dusty attic above the garage, and discovered a ratty, water stained box tucked away in a corner. Curiosity struck her immediately when she noticed no label on the aged box. Inside, she found a multitude of things she hadn't expected, all which seemed perfectly preserved. Her grandfather's uniform sat at the top, folded neatly and protected from the elements. Under that were his medals from the war, his brother's uniform and medals, as well as another small box labeled 'Jonas'. Who was this Jonas guy?

She opened the box, and found a handful of medals accompanied with a picture of a young SS officer wearing them. Aside from those few items, it was empty. Krista sat cross legged on the floor, eyeing the photograph. On the back was simply 'Jonas Fischer, SS 1942'.

That had sparked her curiosity further, and as a result, she began to dig into her family's history more thoroughly. She had discovered that her grandmother had been born in a small village south of Vienna, and her grandfather in Munich. They married young, and had one child together; her birth mother. She tried her best to do the math in her head to figure out just how old her mother would have been when she had given birth, but it made her brain hurt, so she gave up. That wasn't what she really cared about anyway. Jonas was what she was interested in.

Upon further research, she had discovered that this Jonas character was her great uncle's son, which made him her cousin. What really struck her as odd was the fact that there was nothing in the small box from him but a few medals and a picture. No journal, no photo album or keepsakes... Nothing. Why was that?

A month or so following the discovery of the World War II militaria in her attic, she had clumsily tripped over an exposed tree root in her yard. It sent her stumbling-not into-but through the trunk of the tree. Astonished, she opened her eyes to the sight of a time period drastically unlike her own. She wasn't even in the same city. Turning around, she saw that she had come through a brick wall in a train station in some places that was completely foreign to her. The people around her stared and gave her menacing looks, mumbling in French. Feeling slightly anxious, she quickly made her way back through the brick wall, and found herself back on her property. Krista looked down at her hands, flipping them over repeatedly, still in shock from what just happened. She reached down and felt the photo of Jonas in her pocket. "What the fuck?" She mumbled to herself as her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

It took twenty seven year old Krista all of two days to decide that she was going to tempt fate and go back through the tree again, with the goal of finding her cousin. It was ambitious, but she had confidence in her abilities. Repercussions of meddling with the past be damned, she was going to find the man come hell or high water, even if she had to do it all on her own.

With a small vintage suitcase packed full of anything she might need (including a small sidearm, because ya never know), she set off for the tree once more with the photo of her cousin grasped in her hand tightly. She took a deep breath, and took a few confident steps forward until she found herself in the same location as she did by accident two days prior.

Outside the train station, her hunch had been confirmed. She had to be in France. Not a single word from surrounding conversations was spoken in English. It was... French. She was on the right track at least.

She wandered the streets, suitcase in hand. Lifting up her jacket sleeve, she noticed the time brightly displayed on her Apple Watch that she cursed herself for not remembering to take off. 20:43. With a strict nine PM curfew put in place, she knew that she needed to find somewhere to stay quickly. She tucked it away hastily, and continued to walk at a more brisk pace. But wait... her watch was still functioning? That didn't seem quite right.

Eventually, she stumbled upon a rundown motel, but realized she didn't have any money to pay for a room. She forced herself to cry thus ruining her eye makeup, and made her way inside.

An elderly woman sat behind a tall wooden counter, and crossed over to the shaking, weeping Krista. "My dear, are you alright?" she questioned in beautiful French. Suddenly she was thankful that she had learned French and German, as she would clearly need extensive knowledge in both.

"My... My parents were both killed by the Germans... And their house was burned down," she explained through fabricated tears and sobs. "I haven't anywhere to stay, and I haven't any money."

At that point, she realized this situation could shake out in one of two ways; either the woman would feel sympathetic for her, or she would alert the authorities, and Krista would be fucked. "I'm terribly sorry to hear that, my dear..." The woman hugged her tightly, rubbing her back with soothing circular motions. Krista sniffled and rubbed her eyes. "We have a vacancy. Stay as long as you need." She handed Krista a key with a tag that read '14' and gave her another tight hug.

"Thank you so much ma'am," she said, trying her best to force a smile. She found her way to room 14, and shrugged off her jacket onto the bed. She smiled to herself, honestly surprised that woman didn't ask to see her papers, which she clearly didn't have. 'I should probably get some made up', she thought to herself.

The room was shabby, but it would do. It kept her off the streets, and out of the hands of the SS. She began to unpack her clothes, and grabbed her phone out from between a grey sweater and a black skirt and stared at it for a moment in disbelief. "What the hell?" In the top left corner, the display was reading full signal on LTE. How was that even possible? Her phone was working just as her watch was, and it perplexed her.

March 9th 1943; Tuesday

As we now have circled back to the very beginning of this story, three days had passed by now, and Krista had found herself doing minimal research on Jonas. She wanted to really live in the moment and take in her surroundings with mental photographs.

She had found herself stooping to the level of asking random German soldiers she ran into on the street if they knew the man in the picture as if she were trying to hunt down a lost dog or something. It made her feel stupid and desperate.

Exhausted and craving whiskey, she plopped down into a bar stool at the closest bar she could find, and ordered a drink, hoping that a kind man would be generous enough to pay for it for her. With her glowing blonde hair, and ruby red lips, she thought that maybe some guy would be like, 'damn she's pretty. Imma buy her a drink.' She stared down at the tattered photograph she had been carrying, and picked at the corner while she patiently waited for her drink.

The bartender sat a glass of whiskey before her, and she took a slow sip. In her peripherals, she noticed a very handsome man approach her. "Is this seat taken?" he questioned in French with a dazzling smile. She slid the photograph off the counter and tucked it beneath her thigh. Out of sight, out of mind.

She looked over to him and shook her head. He claimed the seat beside her, and she prayed that he wasn't going to try some cheesy ass pickup line on her.

Krista looked over to him when she was sure he wasn't watching, and allowed her eyes to take in everything about the man. It didn't take her long to deduce that he was an SS colonel, and suddenly a wave of nervousness hit her like a ton of bricks. She hadn't any papers... This could be a one way ticket to her last day on earth, or he could be who she could use to track down Jonas. She repeated 'fake it 'til you make it' Over and over in her head like a silent prayer.

She had to admit. This guy was very attractive; an older man, yes, but attractive nonetheless. The way he sat with such perfect posture gave her the impression that this man meant business, and was not to be fucked with. "I'm Krista, by the way. Krista Jäger," she told him in English, too lazy to even try a fake accent, even though she put in the effort to make up a last name.

He turned to her, and tilted his head. An American with a German name? "You're American?" he asked, his smile fading into something she'd never seen before.

She figured that was a wrap, and that she was about to be hauled out to the back alley and shot. How could she have been so stupid to not even try to continue speaking in French? She laughed breathily before raising her glass to her lips and taking another sip. "Yes," she answered hesitantly.

"May I ask what brings you to Paris?" he inquired, his eyes now glued to her, searching for any sign of suspicious intention.

It was in that moment that she had to reacha decision on whether or not she wanted tell the whole truth, or just parts of it. "You'll laugh," she said, turning to face the colonel.

He shook his head. "I won't laugh," he assured, turning in the stool, his full attention on her now as if he were awaiting her to say something to incriminate herself.

She took a deep breath, turning back to her half empty glass. Her index finger skated around the rim as she began to explain. "I was adopted when I was born, and I'm in search of my birth family." A breathy chuckle escaped her lips. "It sounds pretty dumb when I say it out loud. People keep telling me that I'll never find them and that I'm wasting my time." She looked over to him once more, and took note of his striking hazel eyes and dark sandy blonde hair littered with small sections of grey. He was... kinda sexy. Was that wrong? Was she wrong to think that an SS colonel was sexy?

"Do you think it's a waste of time?"

She shrugged after draining what remained in her glass. "Realistically speaking... I'm not sure yet. I didn't realize how time consuming it would be."

He nodded. "I'm sure you'll find them." He offered her a kind smile. He had a sort of arrogant air to him, but he seemed nice enough. "Care for another?" he asked, pointing to her empty glass.

"Sure," she accepted with a smile.

For a moment, she found herself pinned down under his heavy gaze her cheeks shifting to a deep shade of scarlet. "I'm sorry... I don't mean to stare," she forced out.

He didn't seem to mind the least. "Don't apologize. I was just admiring how beautiful you are."

Oh great. He was kind of sexy, and also a charmer. 'Don't fall into the trap, Krista. Don't do it' she told herself, but it was so damn hard. "Danke, Standartenführer," she replied.

He smiled then. Maybe she was in the clear for the time being. "Sprichst du Deutsch?"

"Ja," she answered. Even the way he spoke German was sexy.

"You seem like a very intelligent young woman," he mentioned before raising his glass to her fresh one. "Prost," he said as their glasses clinked together.

"Prost," she said as well.

Following a short moment they remained silent before he finally spoke up. "Where are you from, Krista?" he asked curiously.

"Chicago," she answered simply, not at all too eager to spill out the details about her life to some SS officer that she didn't even know.

"I've never been to America," he admitted. "I'd like to visit though."

She nodded, smiling politely. "I like it there," she said, allowing herself to catch his eyes again. The eye contact should be making her skin crawl, but it was doing the opposite. It had almost an exhilarating effect on her. She was actually beginning to enjoy herself.

"Did you leave your husband behind when you came here?" he asked, an almost devilish tone coloring his accented voice. It almost was like he was actually trying to pick her up.

She laughed, flashing her left hand to show the absence of a wedding band. "I'm actually not married."

"I would have thought for sure that a woman as beautiful and as smart as you would be taken." He leaned back a little and pulled a tin from his tunic pocket as well as a lighter. He too out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. "Any man would be lucky to have someone like you on their arm." Hans put the lighter to the end his cigarette and took a long drag from it.

Krista shrugged again. "I guess I just haven't found the right person yet," she answered, moving in her stool to face him fully. "Maybe someday." She placed her elbow on the counter and rested her head on her hand. "Are you married?" It may have been out of bounds to ask a man of his position a question like that, but by that time, there was no turning back.

"No I'm not," he responded before taking another drag, and she watched him as if were an art form. "Same as you. I suppose that I just haven't found the right woman yet." He smiled at her and pulled a second cigarette from the tin. "Do you smoke?" He questioned, hurriedly changing the subject.

She did smoke, but not tobacco typically. "Sometimes." He passed the cigarette to her, and lit it for her once it was securely between her lips. "Thank you." She let the smoke curl elegantly from between her lips and up into her nose in a perfect French inhale.

Hi eyes never left her as she took long, slow draws, her eyes falling to her full lips coated in a flattering red lipstick from Kat Von D. "Is something wrong?" she asked, noticing that he seemed either in a daze or in a state of longing.

"No, I'm just watching you," he admitted, a goofy smile tugging at his lips. Watching was putting it lightly. He was studying her.

It was weird feeling; feeling like one was on display. It was something Krista had brown used to, but it still didn't make her feel any less weird. "Why? I'm not very interesting," she said, placing the remainder of her burning cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

"I disagree," he told her, lowering his voice, his eyes actively seeking out hers.

Her heart began to pound loudly in her ears, and she could feel herself begin to tremble ever so slightly. She felt cornered for no reason, and she was beginning to think that his intimidation tactics assisted him in the rise to his rank.

His fingers brushed over her skin as he tucked a stray lock of long blonde hair behind her ear, and it felt like trails of fire had been placed there. She assumed that this is what lust at first sight felt like. As wrong as it was, she was almost dying to feel those lips on hers.

It was like he could read her mind just by looking into her eyes, and that scared the shit out of her. He slowly drew her face closer, his hand cupped gently on her cheek. It was too fast, but all of her cares had gone like the wind, and she fell into his touch easily.

Finally, he softly brushed his lips over hers, and her eyes instinctively fell closed. His lips were much softer than she had expected, and they tasted of fine whiskey, which she found utterly intoxicating. It became quite obvious very quickly that he knew what to do and how to do it to make women melt.

"If you're going to kiss me, you could at least tell me your name," she said to him.

The girl had a point. "Hans Landa. At your service, Fraulein." He raised her hand to his lips and brushed a polite, gentlemanly kiss over her knuckles.

Krista finished her second glass of whiskey, and licked her lips to draw what liquid was on them into her mouth. He motioned for the bartender to bring her another. "Are you trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?" Her eyes flashed devilishly as she gladly accepted the third drink.

"I would never do that," he assured, matching the look in her eyes.

She'd had her fair share of one night stands, and this was usually how it all began. She Krista could see the dark desire burning in those captivating eyes of his. She glanced up at the clock that hung on the wall and realized that it was now nearing fifteen minutes past curfew. She downed the whiskey like it was a shot, and licked her lips once more. "I think I should go. It's already past curfew. I wouldn't want to get arrested."

"I'll escort you. Don't worry."

"Oh thank you. I appreciate that." Krista stood up from her stool and turned to Hans. "I'll be outside," she told him simply.

The photo that had been safely tucked away beneath her leg had long been forgotten and had been left behind when she made her exit from the bar. It fluttered to the floor, and it caught Landa's attention. He scooped it up and eyed it for a moment. He looked out the large window to where Krista was standing, then back to the photo. "Obersturmführer Fischer," he muttered to himself, narrowing his eyes at the photo. His deductions were proving correct so far. There was something more to this woman than she was letting on. 'Why does she have this picture' was the question that popped into his mind before anything else. The young lieutenant was currently undercover which is why this American woman having a photo of him was so peculiar. Hans slipped the photo into his pocket before paying for their drinks and went out to meet the woman he had been drinking with.

If Krista were to admit anything right now to herself, it would be that her fruitless day had shifted into a very interesting evening. She was no seductress, but playing the role of one was making her feel some way that she had never felt before, and she liked it. She "Shall we?" he asked, pulling on his leather gloves.

"Of course." With the sun hidden away for the night and the moon and stars littering the sky, she realized just how chilly the night March air was. A slight breeze blew over her face, and goosebumps covered her arms beneath her sheer black blouse and jacket.

Before she knew what was happening, she had been tugged into a dark alley, and backed into a wall. His hands skirted up her legs without hesitation, pushing the hem of her skirt up in the process. "Are you trying to seduce me?" Krista purred in his ear as the cool air hit her now exposed legs.

"Perhaps," he answered, his hands curving around to her ass to give it a rough squeeze. Hans seemed like fun; she liked his ways.

Her fingers curled around the lapels of his heavy leather coat and pulled his chest flush into hers. Caught off guard by her advance, Hans let a hand move from her smooth skin to the wall behind her to catch himself. "If you are, it's working," she said, pressing her lips into his with a sort of needy desperation that she didn't know that she was capable of.

Their lips moved together with such perfection that it felt nothing short of blissful. It felt sinful, but she couldn't escape it. The sensations paired with her slight buzz from the whiskey had married together to form the type of dopamine rush that she usually smoked marijuana to achieve. "I don't think this should be done here," he breathed before nipping at her bottom lip and pulling away. When it came to sexual encounters, Krista considered herself rather adventurous, but being fucked in a dark alley was where she drew the line. It's not that she was a slut, she just enjoyed sex, and she didn't find that to be a problem.

They had reached the halfway point to the motel she was staying in when a group of three men in black Gestapo uniforms bounded toward them. "Standartenführer Landa. I'm terribly sorry to bother you and... This young lady, but there's been a development in our investigation," the man leading the small pack said, slightly out of breath. Trying her best to avoid contact, she took in the rank of the man that was speaking. A captain.

She caught the captain eyeing her, and she averted her eyes and looked off into another direction. "Of course," he replied to the captain with a nod. He turned to Krista then. "I'm terribly sorry, but I must go now. I apologize for not being able to escort you home, but you won't be bothered for being out past curfew." Her now slightly inebriated brain tried to quickly translate what he had told her in German, but it was moving to slow for her liking.

She nodded and managed a simple, "okay".

"I would like to see you again," he added before he departed with the rest of the group.

Krista watched as the briskly went off in the direction she'd just come from, and noticed one of the officers give Hans a pat on the back. "Really?" she muttered under her breath. Just like fucking frat boys when their friends either get a girlfriend or finally get laid.

With an eye roll, she continued back to her motel room, and flopped down on the bed once inside. Although her alcohol tolerance was very high, the room was just slightly spinning, and that alone was enough to force her to keep her eyes open.

Fatigue and hunger were beginning to set in, but she still had no money to buy food, and it was too late at night for her to make a trip to her trusty train platform to go back home. With a deep sigh, she stood up and crossed to room to where her suitcase sat, and pulled out her phone. She held the lock button to power it on, and patiently waited. Sitting down on the corner of the bed, she peeled off her false eyelashes and blinked a few times to allow her eyes to readjust to their absence.

Google had never, correction: hardly ever done Krista dirty, so that was the first place she found herself when he phone had finally powered on.

She had gathered enough small tidbits of information that Hans Landa was an important man here during the occupation. With that being said, she had a tiny scrap of hope that she'd be able to find something about him online somewhere.

She typed in 'Hans Landa' in the search bar, and tapped the first link that came up. The page was adorned with a large picture of him at the very top, and it took her all of about a half of a second to say to herself, 'that's him'. She read through the page, and paused for a moment when she reached a subheading that read 'French Occupation'. For a long moment, she contemplated whether or not she should continue reading. She took a breath and continued.

Once she reached the end of the extensive section, she locked her phone and dropped it on the bed. She wished she hadn't continued reading. The very last line read. "During the Nazi Party's occupation of France, Hans Landa had earned himself the moniker of 'The Jew Hunter' as a result of his detective abilities."

At least now she knew what she was getting herself into, but it led her to a question: What if he knows Jonas? This could be her only shot to find him. After reading the article, she wasn't so sure that Landa was one that she should be actively pursuing. He had been described as ruthless, arrogant, and relentless. Was that really something she wanted to get involved in? Not to mention, with his respected status in the SS, he could easily make her cease to exist with a single order, and no one would ever ask any questions.

With her mouth slightly open in shock, she absentmindedly looked around the small, dimly lit room at nothing in particular. "Oh god... What have I done?"