Disclaimer: All characters and themes are the product of Quentin Tarantino's genius. Any others not native to the film are my own creations that are not set out to improve upon or change an already stunning production. I only intend to quench my need for an extended version of the character's lives. The basterds originally come to France in the spring of 1944. I have brought them a little earlier. The original film remains truthful.

This is my first fan-fic Narrative.

15th September 1942

Annabelle brought her cupped hands to her face and splashed the ice water over her eyes and neck. The water dripped pink and brown where blood and dirt fell from her face. She did not seem to have a reflection, At least a reflection is not what she saw. All that was there was a face staring back at her, a separate entity and a ghost. She ever so lonely and the longer she remained alone, the less of a person she became as she watched her soul being sucked into oblivion. The killing of nazis was all she lived for but what would she do once she had killed Dieter? She had no friends or family that she could call on to be with her when the war ended. A part of her wished for the Germans to win the war so she could carry on fighting but disgusted at this fantasy she hit the wall, bloodying her knuckles. Annabelle took up a hair brush she had found in one room of the house and watched the reflection comb the long brown hair. Se believed if she watched it for long enough her former self would come rushing back and so would her aspirations of becoming wife or a lady. No, that part of her was gone. The thought of being a mother of many, having nothing but cleaning to do sickened her. She hated the way she used to be but felt so alienated from the person she has become because she has allowed herself to manifest from anger. She began to practise her French uttering strings of words, letting them roll out over her tongue. She always passed for a French girl. Her favourite attack was when she was dressed as someone else. Like a spider she would charm soldiers with her eloquent French speech and yielding facade before slicing them limb from limb breathing in the vapours of their blood and fear. She began to speak again but was stopped by an unfamiliar noise coming from the front door. It was rats. The place was shivering with rats. This time heavier sound, a splintering of wood and muffled voices sounded. Her heart was in her throat as she slipped behind the door becoming a spider. They would have to come to her. Footsteps resonated throughout the house as someone searched it. There must have been four of them, five, no seven. Annabelle had slaughtered more than seven before. Feet shuffled just outside the door as a man cautiously waved his gun into every crevice of the room apart from behind the door. As soon as he had his back to her, Annabelle sprung from her hiding place, pulled his arms back and held a dagger to his neck. He let out a short shout in shock, loud enough for the other men to race up into the room where they were. Six of them pilled in. They were not in Nazi uniforms and they did not look German or French.

"Wer bist du?" There was no answer. "Qui êtes-vous?" She shouted louder.

"Now why don't we all calm down huh? yo'kay Omar?" A mousy brown haired man stepped forward. He had a horrid scar on his neck from a near beheading it looked like. Omar's eyes flickered nervously.

"You're American?" Annabelle loosened her grip on the man she held.

"Apart from our friend Stilt here, yes we are. And I'm guessing British?" The tension began to release after the identification of allys.

"Yes. But who are you?"

"I'm Aldo the Apache and these are the basterds." They all smirked.

Annabelle released the man from her grip who almost fell to the floor.

"Jesus sir. You should have said sooner or I could have taken is head off."

She began to gather up her things from around the room and walked passed them heading for the exit. The Basterds looked at each other questioningly as she so confidently walked away.

"hold on a second missy. I'm not done with you. Who the fuck are ya and what're doing in France?"

Annabelle turned to her interrogator and then looked at the rest of the Basterds. She noticed Hugo Stilt standing amongst them. He was infamous amongst the German army and she was glad to see him with a squad that appreciated his talents. Her gaze then fell on a tall, heavily built man who held an old baseball bat in his right hand. This must have been the one they call the bear Jew. Omar was the one she had held, Utivich - the man the Germans had so unflatteringly named "The little man", and Hirschberg a cruel looking soldier. The last spoke to Stilt in German revealing himself as Wilelm Wicki. All of them, save Aldo and Stilt had jet black hair and eyes which made them look brotherly and even more sinister.

"My name is Annabelle Moore and I am here avenging my family who were brutally killed by Nazis five years ago."

"Annabelle Moore?" Hugo stared. "The Iron Maiden?"

"Yes. That is my nick name the Germans have given me."

Aldo asked Stilt about what he was speaking and Hugo, to the discomfort of Annabelle, described every rumour he had heard while being enlisted in the army. She was forced to listen to and remember all that she had done feeling the warrior inside her writhe in pleasure at every compliment. Aldo listened intently. They all listened but Annabelle just focused on a spot on the ground that was rough and cream coloured. She wondered if it was wax from a candle that the previous owner had dropped there before she was captured. Was there no fire? Her eyes drifted towards the wall but no black was seen from fire At least but instead the black of mould.

"Agreed then? Yes, Annabelle, your talents seem a little wasted just going around by yourself so we thought you could become part of a more organised establishment. How about it?"

Annabelle felt their gaze upon her but she did not meet it. Her plan was so direct. She wanted Dieter, no one else and it was certain she would be able to kill him on her own. The basterds wondered why she was so hesitant and those few minutes they waited lasted a hour it seemed. Yes, she was lonely but Annabelle could not see them as the ones to cease that loneliness but someone is better than no one especially as alone, she had to live with herself. Her mind was settled and she agreed to be one of Aldo's basterds. Aldo saw her as the final piece of his team. She was fluent in French and being female, could perform the role of the temptress or the vulnerable damsel.

"I will accept this offer on one condition Lieutenant."

"That being?"

"That you treat me exactly the way you would treat those boys. You shout at them, you shout at me. You swear at them, you swear at me. You hit them... You hit me ok?"

"Don't you worry about that sweety. I will."