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.

Just a little drawing I created of Annabelle. This is kind of how I wanted her to be perceived. Enjoy .

22nd of September 1942

The Basterds watched as the Nazi soldiers ate, drank and conversed merrily around the fire. Like tigers they crept slowly through the undergrowth anticipating the kill being careful not to crack a twig or even breathe. Aldo ordered Stiglitz and Annabelle to move around to the outsides of the camp where they would catch and slice the necks of any absent soldiers, silently and quickly. They were the lucky ones. Annabelle's body was writhing with adrenaline driven by anger but now there was excitement as she carried out her first attack with the Basterds. She watched how gracefully Stiglitz caught the unsuspecting soldiers but with such zeal did he kill them; relishing his knife piercing their skin and tearing their insides. Annabelle preferred the clean kill her sword gave. She competed with herself trying not to get a drop of blood on her white vest. She runs like a lioness but as silently as a hummingbird's wings, powerful and light. They took their positions on the left and right of the camp opposite each other. Stiglitz nodded his blood spattered head to her and she then reciprocated the gesture towards Aldo who smiled a toothy grin. They all spring up from their hiding places and fire their machine guns like rain into the camp, mowing them down like they were ants carefully leaving two contained in the middle amongst the declining bodies, flailing for their guns knowing it would only be a moment before they too were part of the bloody carpet littering the forest floor. A silence fell broken only by the helpless whimpers of the two surviving soldiers. Wicki pulled one by the hair and dragged him to the feet of Aldo the Apache, the other forced closely behind by Stiglitz. Each Basterd stood calm and menacing showing the German soldiers that they were used to killing. This was just another day for them.

"I'm sure you German bastards already know who we are but in case you don't… I'm gonna give you an ultimatum. One that only we would give you understand?"

They nodded; one soldier slowly with a stern look of hatred plastering his face and the other consumed with fear. It was clear who was going to die today and who was getting away with the mark the Basterds gave to every surviving hostage.

"Now, both o'you is gonna give me some valuable information on where more of these Nazi holiday camps are. The soldier that gives me the most I can use will not die. You, go."

He pointed towards the quivering soldier now a pale shade of green, knuckles white from clenching. He spluttered out a few words explaining no one was left in the forest. Truthful as his answer was, Aldo was not satisfied and so he turned to the second soldier whose disposition was somewhat calmer but the intensity of anger burned in his eyes. The soldier laughed at Aldo and said:

"Whatever I tell you, all of you Jewish scum will die eventually. Killing me will no more stop Hitler than fire could stop a river flowing."
"As enlightening as I found that statement, your shaking friend here beatcha. I'm gonna introduce you to a little friend o' mine called the Iron Maiden. We've been dying to see her play host to you guys. Annabelle!"

The soldier's face dropped to the floor like a stone, eyes clouded with dread as his confident façade crumbled. The quaking soldier was being sick beside him as Annabelle, still wielding he sword stepped from the trees. She had a line of blood spattered across her face resembling a deep cut making her look warped and ugly. She wiped the blood from her weapon with her sleeve only metres away from her kill and stopped only a few feet from him. It was only now that she really looked at his face and he hers. They both froze. The soldier began to laugh and evil, throaty laugh. Annabelle stumbled back breathing fast as if a hand had been thrust down her throat. She shook her head, tears running down her face as his laugh became uncontrollable. Her sword fell from her hand and sunk into the undergrowth and she was a child again. She had become the girl she was that night her family was killed, vulnerable, frightened and ultimately over powered. For a moment, all of the Basterds stood still confused; all looking at each other and then at Annabelle in bewilderment as she retreated to the trees. Aldo sprang forward from the log he had perched on to watch the execution and fired a single shot in the laughing man's head and then another in the frightened soldier's heart. Slowly, the Basterds gathered the valuables and artillery as Aldo pursued Annabelle in the darkness; a father finding a lost child.

Aldo found Annabelle lying flat on the ground in a particularly thick part of woodland that he struggled to get through. He was much larger than she in both height and width so the thorny bushes scraped him where she easily slid through. He stood above her head looking down at her face. Her eyes were shut, blood gone. If her chest was not rising and falling, she could have been mistaken for dead but it looked more like a coma of emotionless sleep.

"Leave me Aldo." Her voice startled him.
"Not until you tell me what that shit was all about."

Annabelle sprung upwards and slipped out of her thorny cave onto a log that lay hard and still. Aldo battled through the tangle and seated himself next to her.

"What happened back there huh? If you are afraid of killing…"
"I am not afraid of killing Aldo!"
"Then what?"

He stood up suddenly, his loud voice echoing through the trees.

"Who was he? Talk Annabelle!"
"His name is Joseph Richter." Her voice began to crack "He was one of the soldiers who… How am I supposed to face them Aldo? I thought I was ready to kill them. God knows how many Nazis I've slaughtered to get here and I finally get the chance for revenge and I fail. What will I do when I see Dieter?" Her head fell into her palms.
"What happened that night Belle? I know there's summit you 'aint been tellin' me. Who is this Dieter?"

Aldo pulled her to his chest as she blubbered into his jacket. She squeezed his arms with her nails, pinching his skin. He pushed her to arm's length and asked her again: "What happened that night" and she gushed out everything. The rape, Dieter, her hurt and pain was now Aldo's burden as well as Annabelle's and anger consumed him at the thought of someone hurting his baby.

The other Basterds sat by the fire they had made near to where Aldo and Annabelle were sitting, wondering what they had been talking about, still confused by Annabelle's deterioration…

"That girl's gonna make Aldo soft" Said Donny. "It's obvious she reminds him of his kid."

Utivich nodded in approval of this statement, the others not so much as they were reluctant to speak ill of her now. They had come to realise that that she did not possess any supercilious qualities but instead she was ore troubled than they could imagine ad just as angry as they all were.

"It was strange you know? The way she reacted. I 'aint seen nothin' like that" said Utivich.
"He definitely knew her. It was the way he laughed that gave it away. It must have been one of the soldiers that killed her family. It was clear she had seen him before." Said Wicki

They all agreed with this statement feeling sorry for her which they knew would make her angry. Then a rare sound came from beside Hirschberg as Stiglitz uttered a few words.

"Maybe we should all be nice to her from now. Or at least treat her like Basterd."

Donny felt a twang of guilt pass through him as he realised that he had been the worst towards her and egged on anyone else wanting to give her a dig. He looked at her buried in Aldo's chest and saw she was troubled enough, let alone him making it more difficult. After all, the Nazis had killed her people too and her family. And so it was resolved that she was now a Basterd like all the rest and should be treated like a Basterd. Nothing made her different, if anything her weaknesses made her one of them. After all they were all angry, all human and all in need of friends.