Chapter Four

Lythia could hear the agonizingly slow squeezing of a trigger. Right before the hammer smashed down to release the bullet, a hiccuping sound was heard. The Doctor groaned quite dramatically, putting the gun down.

"Ey Doc, you find any wodka? Nikolai has run out," a slurred, accented voice seemed to be the mosquito in Richtofen's ear.

"Nein, Nikolai, I vas busy."

The large man squinted right at Lythia. "Heheh, is pretty lady. Where she come from? She has vodka, da? If not, she can fuck off like fourth wife...or... Maybe that was fifth? Lost count."

"Nein, dummkopf, she has no vodka. Neizher of us do. Now vill you PLEASE depart from zhe area so I can murder her?"

"Murder? I did that to six wives. Was fun."

A scared shriek interrupted the casual sadists' conversation.

"WOULD YOU PLEASE GET HIM AWAY FROM ME?! CAN'T YOU SEE HE'S TRYING TO KILL ME?!" Lyth's eyes darted between the two.

"Ehh, be quiet, loudmouth. I have headache. Get Dempsey or Takeo to solve your lady problems." And with that, the drunk stumbled away.

The Scot's mouth hung agape, trying to find words. She was doomed. But, to her surprise, the Wehrmacht uniform-clad man just put the gun away, sighing heavily and almost in a whiny manner. "He ruined zhe fuuuuuun," he complained, sliding down in his chair.

"Go avay." The childish man crossed his arms, pouting. When she just stared, he waved to her. "AVAY."

"Y-...YOU PEOPLE ARE INSANE!" Lythia screamed, not thinking twice about departing.

The young woman was dumbfounded. Completely and utterly confused by the actions of the men she had seen. It was understandable how they had survived this long, considering their rather eccentric ways of doing well, anything.

But they weren't her family. They weren't her friends. She didn't care the least bit about them. Lythia wanted to go home and see her father and brother. Wanted to make sure they were okay and this nightmare hadn't yet spread to America.

But, the blonde Scot knew, from a swirling pit of pessimism deep in her gut, that her hopes of everyone she cared for were alright was slim.

She cracked under the stress suddenly weighing on her thin shoulders, and began to weep. For her loved ones. For the ones killed. Hell, even for herself and the predicament she had gotten into.

Vision blurred with tears, Lythia found the darkest place around her, drawing in her knees and cupping her face in her hands.

A low clearing of the throat was heard. Lythia sloppily wiped her nose with her sleeve and blinked the tears from her eyes. She focused on the man standing before her.

He had an almost prim-and-proper mustache, and a frown that showed he was a serious man. From his eyes up, a shadow covered his features. His cap donned a star on the front.

His uniform was one she hadn't seen before. But she studies his face a little closer, and figure he was Japanese or Chinese. She could never tell the difference.

The shorter man (significantly stunted in height compared to the others) pulled Lyth to her feet.

"It is dishonorable to act such a way for no reason," he muttered. Lythia shrugged lazily. "Iddn't like it matters anyway. For all I know, m'family's dead. I've nothing to live for.

A quick hand connected with her left cheek. "Nonsense! Dishonor on you! You have a life to live for, is that not why you live? Mull not over your loss, but fight for what you can gain back."

Lythia stared wide-eyed, getting a harsh slap from reality (which followed the slap from him, of course.)

They stared awkwardly for a few breaths until the Scot nodded slowly. Without another word, the mysterious man left.

The dumbfounded girl was left standing, yet again alone, but with a small growing sense of pride, and confusion, but mostly pride. She set out to reclaim her dignity and slap some morons around along the way.

A smile crept across her face as she wrung her hands and plotted. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all...

This felt kinda rushed, but I wanted o get the ideas out sooner.

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