Chapter 3
"Frau, vake up. No more sleeping. You are deadveight. If you vish for me not to end your life, you vill be useful," a cold, thick accented voice spoke.
"Oi, I'm up, I'm up..." Lythia weakly pushed herself up off of the ground. A wave of nausia hit her, and she saw nothing but stars. She rubbed her eyes and puffed air, frustrated.
Lyth blinked the spots from her eyes and focused on the man looming over her.
He was tall. Not quite as tall as the blond brute she encountered earlier, no, but still up there. He was clad in a tan uniform, brandishing a vibrant red swastika armband. Lythia was puzzled, I thought there were no more Nazis? She shook her head slightly, ignoring it.
His hair was neatly combed back, it was slick, dark, and slightly graying on the sides. Small streaks of silver wormed their way through the brown.
His facial features were very sharp. Defined cheekbones and a scowl painted a permanent "average grouch" sort of look. He had a few scars; one lining his right cheekbone below his eye, and one faintly going down his left eye. The other scars looked more fresh, like recent encounters with something sharp.
What really got her were his eyes. They were a vivid green. Not bright, but very defined. They were more of a darker, forest-green, but they seemed to sort of glow. They stood out among all of his features. Every emotion he could ever display were in those green orbs. Mostly, anger, annoyance, and defiance.
The older man easily noticed the Scot staring at her. "Stop zhat," he said with a self-righteous snarl, "One cannot gaze freely upon the glory zhat is zhe Doctor."
Lythia quickly averted her eyes. She complied with his demands on behalf of not getting murdered. The aura around that man screamed death and intolerance.
"As previously mentioned, I vish to discuss some matters regarding you sudden appearance in this vicinity," he began to circle her like a shark to fresh meat, "und your vasting of mein time."
Luthia began to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. "I-I..." It was like his presence was too much to handle, and even a single word from her would cause him to slice her jugular.
"Vell?" Impatient foot tapping followed a low growl.
"I just... Needed a place to get away from those crazy people-"
A bark of laughter interrupted her.
"Frau, you honestly believe zhey are zhe crazy ones? No, no, no, my dear. You may have made zhe vorst decision of your pathetic, vorthless life by entering zhis building." Chapped lips curled into a sinister smile.
"Zhere is much you must learn about us."
Lythia shrank back in fear. She regretted ever coming here in the first place. Her first week of vacation and she runs into cannibals and madmen.
She heard a gun load.
The tall man crouched in front of her, and he spun the barrel on the weapon he was holding. "I vill make zhings so much vorse for you if you do not comply vith me. You vill answer all of mein questions, und zhen I vill decide your fate. Understand?"
The frightened Scot nodded frantically.
"Ahh, vonderbar," the European man squealed with childish delight, "I have so much to ask!" He took her hand with bone-crushing force and half-dragged her away.
The curly haired girl was ushered to a small table, two chairs set up across from one another.
"Sit," the German barked, scaring the girl. She quickly took a seat, shaking quite a bit. Both from fear, and the fact it was pretty cold inside the building.
The pale man sat across from her silently. He was so graceful with every move, never faltering with anything. You couldn't hear his breaths, nor even his footsteps. He was almost ghostly in a way.
He folded his hands neatly in his lap, eyes boring holes into hers.
"So," he started casually, "you are from somevhere in Europe, I presume?"
A nod from the blonde.
"Interesting. I am guessing Scotland or England."
"Scotland..."
"Hmm... Vhat brings you to Berlin? Have you no idea vhat zhe goings-on are around here? Not very classy to be in East Germany, ja?"
"I came here for a vacation before the wall was up. I ended up trapped on the east side... I couldn't reach the west in time..."
A pouty lipped German crooned, "Ooooh, poor little Scot, trapped in klein alt Berlin."
"You're mocking me," she said flatly.
"Really? Vhat gave you zhe hint? Ze mocking tone or zhe stretched vords? Or zhe fact I do not give a single care for you?" A snide smirk rippled across his pale, sculpted face.
"You're such a jackass," Lythia crossed her arms, sticking out her lip again. A gun was heard twisting. She didn't have to look up to know what was going on.
"Mind saying zhat again, Frauline?" The sinister snarl was convincing enough for her to vigorously shake her head "no."
"Gut. Now, back to business." He cleared his throat. "How have you survived zhis long? Mein minions should have torn you apart. Pity zhey have not."
"I dunno. I ran a lot. Hid a lot." Lyth paused for a few heartbeats. "You like to talk a lot, don't you? You enjoy hearing your voice," she snorted.
The older man tensed up, face twisting in annoyance. Lythia noticed this and laughed. "Don't get so worked up, ol' man, you'll have a heart attack. God forbid something happens to YOU of all people."
Why was she taunting the man who had the decision of whether or not to end her life, she didn't know.
But after those words came from her lip, she immediately regretted them. A cold, metal thing was placed to her forehead, and she had enough sense to know what it was.
"You have tried mein patience enough, Frau. You are lucky I have let you live as long as you have. Maybe I vas being too generous." The ending words were darkened with a twisted chuckle.
Lythia kicked herself mentally. Her last moments, wasted by taunting a killer.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tensed, prepared for the blow to end her life...
A/N: Alrighty! Thus ends chapter 3. Review and you'll get a cookie. c:
((Translations:
Klein alt Berlin - little old Berlin
Frau/Frauline - Lady ))