[And yet another chapter. I have no clue how I'm writing these so fast, but I somehow am. Go figure. As always, please read and review. And, as an extra incentive, if you've got a PW/AJ character you'd like to see in this, tell me in a review or PM. I'll see if I can't work them in. Danke.]
Attaching the flash to his camera, a semi-difficult task to perform as he leaned against a wall, Kristoph let out a short, triumphant laugh as he finally worked it into place. He needed some night shots of the city of Saigon. Nothing innovative, just the standard stuff. A row of street lights, a Jeep full of GI's, maybe some higher ups in the command staff venturing out into this; South Vietnam's imitation of an American Film Noir.
His greatest gift was one of balance. He didn't need a tripod or anything to steady himself to get shots that normally required them. He reasoned that this was due to his love of soccer, the only sport he could play and not look dorky doing it. Leaning against a lamppost, he got a shot of a few drunken Marine MP's stumbling out of a bar. Might make good fodder for protesters, he thought with a small chuckle. He made a mental note to send them to his brother back in the States.
Unbeknownst to the photographer, someone was watching him, not with malicious intent, but with a genuine interest. After all, not many blondes in Vietnam.
"Nice camera." The figure said as he tucked himself away in a shadow.
Kris turned on his heels, surprised. He began looking around, perhaps a little bit panicked, for several reasons. First off, the voice was American, not Vietnamese speaking English. Second, if he couldn't find the body to which this voice belonged then he was simply going to run in the exact opposite direction.
"Behind you." The voice hinted. Kristoph nodded as he pivoted to follow the instruction. He finally caught sight of a lit cigarette that flashed a little in the dark, almost like a signal. "Is that a Leica?" The voice again asked.
"Yes." Kris answered, taking no steps towards the voice. "And you are?"
A laugh.
"Oh, sorry about that. Not use to doing things directly." He explained as he emerged from the darkness he had used as a cover. One of the first combat tricks he had ever learned. Kris, his eyes trained by his experiences, immediately took note of several important things.
As the figure emerged, he noted the unusual hat the man was wearing. It was a beret, with a large emblem on the front, what looked like an Eagle's head, but red. Hardly standard issue for the US Army. Second, he was an Officer. The blonde took note of his ranks and insignia. He'd have to ask someone later what it all meant. Third, the man appeared, well, young. Older than himself, but not by much, definitely less than 5 years. He also took note of the sweeping head of brunette hair that hid a good portion of this stranger's face.
"Again, who are you?" Kristoph inquired, doing his best to sound authoritative. The soldier laughed.
"Time for that later." He insisted. "I'm always amused to meet war photographers."
"Oh?" Kris answered, now a little curious.
"Yes. I find it amazing that some people would actually do what you do."
"What do you mean?" The blonde asked, now a little confused, not so much at the question, but how well worded the young soldier seemed.
"Simple." The Officer said, lighting a new cigarette. "Of all the things you could be taking pictures of, in all the various places, you're here. In the world's largest killing field. Makes a man curious."
Okay, Kristoph thought, this was going to be fun. Nothing says exciting like showing up some arrogant Army Officer.
"First off," The blonde began, "I like how you say it like I'm here by express design." He asserted, his elegant German accent showing. "I'm here because this is where the prize winning photographs are coming from." He explained, in a voice fully meant to make the Officer feel stupid. The stranger chuckled.
"Oh, is that it? Why not in Greece doing stories about the Junta? Or South Africa, covering whatever form of civil strife they're having now?" He retorted.
"Even if I did, my work would still be overshadowed by whatever is happening here." Kristoph said, issuing a thin smile.
And then, somewhere in the darkness, the idiosyncratic eeriness of the Army Officer seemed to just… float away. His one visible eye lit up, a much more friendly smile playing onto his face.
"Hey, don't worry. I get what you mean. Just trying to make it big, right?" He suddenly asked, voice vibrant, like a spring breeze was carrying it. Kris arched an eyebrow. Ok, what in the Hell is with this guy? One second he's something out of a Victorian horror novel and now…. he's right off of a California beach.
"Ja, something like that." Kristoph said, observing how the young soldier began to fiddle with his beret. He had been in this Country for a decent amount of time, but he had never seen a soldier, an Officer, no less, behave like this. "So…where are you stationed?" He finally asked.
"Here and there." The young man answered. "You know, wherever they put me."
"Who's they?" The photographer inquired.
"You know." Was all the Officer said, as if that was supposed to mean something. Well, to him it clearly did. To Kris, not so much. Removing a pen and a small writing pad from his pocket, he decided to try a different path.
"So, how long have you been in Vietnam?" Kristoph asked.
"Since New Year's of 1970." The Officer answered, going for yet another cigarette. "And how long have you been here?" He asked, voice disturbingly playful.
"Late '71." The German answered, by now very bothered by the man's erratic behavior. Then again, perhaps he was looking at some sort of shell shock. This was the worst war the US had seen the tail end of WWII.
"Ah. So, can I talk you into enlisting?" He blurted out, laughing.
Okay…Norman Bates here is getting a little creepy.
Forcing a chuckle, Kris shook his head. "No, thanks, UPI is good enough. Anyways, I've got to be getting back. Pleasure to meet you." He said politely. The young Officer nodded. As the blonde turned, his inner journalist made a snap decision.
He pivoted on his heels, bringing his camera up quickly. Focusing was followed by a click mixed with a flash, and, bang, he had a great picture. The Officer laughed.
"Be sure to send me a copy." He said, still laughing quietly as Kris turned and began back to his Hotel room.
Later that night, after a thrilling round of developing, the blonde would find himself completely obsessed with one picture. That one Officer had…a perplexing face. He was good looking, but in a baleful sort of way. His smile was warm, but his one visible eye… It seemed as if it knew right where to look. Through the lens, through the pentaprism and through the viewfinder and right into every inch of Kristoph's brain.
He spent hours looking into the young Officer's eye.
He didn't like what he thought he saw.
