A/N: I DO NOT own any part of Inglourious Basterds.
Jack Daniels
"GET DOWN!"
I barely have enough time to register the voice before I am seized roughly, thrown onto the ground unceremoniously as gunshots echo deafeningly across the narrow walls, assaulting my ears without mercy.
Lying on the carpeted floor, I look up to find Donny pulling a pistol and bulling back the hammer, shooting an approaching soldier with dead-on precision and surprising sped for his large frame. Taking one down, he delivers a bullet straight into the eye socket of a stunned soldier whose head flies back just as a jet of blood and brain matter spurt from the back of his head. As I watched, the other glanced at him before diving quickly, tackling him onto the ground. As Donny's large body collides with the floor, a painting is knocked right off of one of the walls and I feel the floor shudder slightly.
Glancing up, I find myself looking into the green eyes of yet another Nazi, who leers menacingly at me before sprinting down the hall, eyes filled with a psychotic rage that momentarily invokes fear in my heart.
Rolling onto my feet I take a step back just as he reaches me, grabbing a lock of my hair and yanking my head harshly, follicles plucked from my scalp and pain radiating from the pulled skin.
Involuntarily, I reach my hands up, trying to pull my hair from his hands, giving him access to my neck. With one quick movement, he wraps both hands around my neck, lifting me up and slamming me against a wall, hands pressed against my windpipe and stopping the flow of air into my lungs.
"You little slut, do you know what I'm going to do to you?" He hisses in German, hot breath against my face as I gasp for breath.
Within a moment, adrenaline begins to flood my veins, my vision suddenly keener and a newfound energy flowing within me as I use all my strength to tighten the muscles in my right leg, before sending my foot for my attacker's kneecap.
He buckles, releasing me so that my feet hit the floor and I rock forward momentarily, balancing myself and crouching down into a fighting stance.
Regaining his footing, he looks at me, eyes full of dark fury before lunging wildly and slamming me against the wall once more, bringing a fist across my face. The swing connects with my jaw, the pain ringing throughout my teeth and neck, each vibration sending my teeth a-chatter.
With his next punch I ducked just in time, listening to the impact of his fist on the weak wooden wall. A shower of splints rained down on my head, and seizing the opportunity I stood, pulling his arm and bringing it down onto my thigh, splitting the appendage in two.
I watch in horror and disgust, stomach churning wildly as his ulna pierces through the flesh of his arm, blood spattering the surrounding skin and tinting the white bone. Looking away from the sight, I find myself unable to think of anything but the sound of his screams which fill the hall like air in a balloon. Clutching his arm tightly, he staggers towards me, and thinking on my feet, I dodge at the last minute, causing him to lose his balance and sway dangerously before stumbling onto the ground.
Staring down at him, I make my way to his form, bending over as disgust blossoms in my stomach. As I gaze upon his face, I can feel nothing but intense hatred for who he is, what he has done, and where his allegiance lies. Maybe once upon a time in another world I would be more compassionate, perhaps I could have been caring, kind, and forgiving.
But in this time, those attributes become weaknesses. The moment you find yourself sparing someone, is the moment they use that against you. There is no more kindness, only the need for survival, and the willingness it took to take care of one's self.
So, with cold indifference, I make my way to his body, putting a foot to his neck and pressing down lightly so that he is forced to relent, laying still and clutching his broken arm tightly. Bending down, I pull his gun from its fine leather holster, embroidered with beautiful patterns and stitching. Holding the revolver in my hand, I balance it in my palm, marveling at the light weight before pulling back the hammer and pressing it to his forehead.
"Wait…wait…." He gasps, eyes filled with a panic that makes me laugh for a man who will not even die for the country that he kills for.
"Pathetic." I murmur under my breath, upper lip curling as my body flushes with heat. Pulling back the hammer, I take one moment to look into his eyes, wide and fearful, glassed over with tears of panic. In his eyes, I see the bodies and cries of the innocent, the tears of Jewish children, and a desperation for life that only infuriates me further.
I want him to look into my eyes, I want my face to be the last thing he sees, and without reservation, I pull the trigger twice, firing two shots that send a spurt of blood into the air, coming into contact with my skin just as his eyes go dead.
I rip the holster from his belt, admiring the handiwork before turning around to face Donny, who continues to struggle with the last remaining soldier. Grasping the gun tightly in my hand I walk over, aiming and firing a single shot.
The soldier's body buckles beneath him, and I watch as Donny's eyes widen in mixed surprise and confusion just as blood spatters his face.
"God damnit!" he jumps back, wiping his face with the back of his hand and spreading the red sticky fluid across his flesh.
"Sorry." I apologize, glancing down at the body and kicking it with my toe gently, making sure he is dead and going over to Donny. Bending down, I offer a hand to help him up which he glances at wearily, like a dog meeting a stranger before grasping my fingers tightly and pushing himself up onto his feet. We both know that chances of my physically lifting his massive frame are close to none, however Donny seems to note the kind gesture and softens slightly, seemingly trusting me the slightest bit.
"What the hell is going on out here?"
We both turn around just in time to find Aldo, throwing open the door to Francesca's room with his shirt untucked, hair messy and clothes wrinkled.
"Got a few visitors." Donny said, motioning to the dead body beside his feet. Glancing over, I admire my handiwork for just a moment then return my attention to the hall as several other doors open and men emerge, many tucking in their shirts, zipping their pants, and muttering beneath their breath. Some glance upon the scene with surprise, others irritation.
"And you've got quite a shiner there." He points to me, and I bring a hand to my jaw, grazing the skin where I was punched earlier. Beneath my fingertips, the flesh screams out sensitively in pain and I suddenly realize that it hurts each time I move my mouth.
"She took one to the jaw, managed to throw the guy off and give him one in the head. And this guy. He might've gotten the upper hand on me if it hadn't been for her I think." Donny spoke, and I spun around, gazing upon him with shock and awe at his unexpected revelation.
"Huh. Interesting." Aldo drawled, and I continued to stare at Donny, trying to see just what he was thinking and why he had defended me so eagerly, right after he threatened to break my neck just a bit earlier. For him to trust me would be…well, foolish. I knew my intentions, but he didn't. It astounded me that someone could trust so easily.
"Alright men, looks like we better move out of here." Aldo leaned forward on his toes, glancing at me for a moment with dark eyes before spinning on his heel and storming back to Francesca's room. As he does so, I notice the groans of disappointment as the remaining members of The Basterds file back into their rooms, collecting their things with downcast faces.
With that I turn to face Donny, wondering how this will impact life at the brothel. The fact is, I've just killed two Germans, and even more than that, I will have no one to validate my story. This will most likely bring down sanctions and retribution even to the completely innocent tonight. My actions, will affect us all, and I silently wish I could turn back time and stop myself from acting so brazenly. I should have let The Basterds handle the situation and stayed out of it, because now I was soon to find myself in quite a predicament.
"Well…I guess you'll be leaving now." I wring a small smile across my face, wondering what the hell I do now.
At my words, Donny turns sharply furrowing his thick browns.
"What do you meant? You're not coming with us?" he asks, causing me to raise my own.
"I…I can come with you?"
"Well you don't think we'd leave you there after that? Didn't you say you have information for Aldo? And besides, you saved my life. I'm more than certain there's a job for you if you're interested."
His words cause my heart to lurch in my chest violently at the thought of escaping this place and actually contributing to the war effort in some other way that didn't involve lying on my back. So long I had spread my legs, whispering into the ears of men and prying information from them, unsure of when or how I would ever actually use it. Could it be that things were finally falling into place? Beyond that, would this be my ticket home?
"I…" I open my mouth, unable to even begin to think of a complete sentence before gunshots tear apart the moment, ripping through the building and shaking me from my fervor and pulling me into reality once more, the reality of another round of attacks that could very well leave me dead if I did not get myself together.
Gripping the gun in my hand tightly, I run forward, following the deafening pops down the staircase and ignoring Donny's protests behind me. With each step, I can feel the blood rush through my body, heart thumping in my eyes with the excitement of impending battle.
I meet my enemy on the landing, several soldiers clamoring up the staircase with guns in hand. Pulling back the hammer quickly, I fire off a bullet straight for one's leg, sending him tumbling back onto his friends as they collapse down the steps comically.
In a blur, Donny rushes past me, all but jumping an entire flight of stairs before landing on the party as they try and compose themselves. With grunts in English and German, the two parties battle each other, Donny fighting like some great God as he takes them down with ease.
"Annabelle!" comes a voice, light and airy that rings in my ears, instantly pulling me away as I turn and find the brilliant blonde with a dazzling smile climbing down the steps towards me, wide eyes full of panic and full lips parted as she begins to say something.
It all happens so fast that I barely have time to register the sound of a gun firing, or the path of a bullet intended for me. In an instant, I find myself standing in shock as Axelle's neck snaps back with violent force and her knees buckle, a spatter of blood covering the wall behind where she previously stood.
So fast, it all happened so fast, that I could feel nothing but numbness as I watched my best friend crumple to the ground, her eyes lifeless and her beautiful face frozen in a final look of horror that finally causes me heart to lurch violently, bile rising in my stomach and tears pricking the back of my eyes.
Bending down, I kneel beside the German beauty, grasping her soft hand tightly in my own and closing my eyes, thinking back to all the memories, replaying the images in my head, and wallowing in the myriad of laughter and experiences we had shared, shared in a time that was far too short.
Reaching over I close her eyes, tilting my head and observing her lifeless face carefully. Even in death, she still looks absolutely beautiful, and for the first time in years, I swallow the lump in my throat, tears escaping my eyes and blurring my vision before I have even had a chance to stop them.
"Get up!" a voice says gruffly in my ear, grabbing me by my arms and yanking me to my feet in the midst of my emotional breakdown. Blinking tears out of my eyes, I fight the strength that grasps me, kicking towards Axelle's corpse and trying in desperation to get back to my friend.
"Come on Annabelle!" the voice says once more, and without warning I am hoisted up by my middle and thrown over the shoulder of a great brute who bounds down the stairs. I kick my legs wildly, blinded by fury and sorrow as I forget where I am, thinking of nothing but the emptiness in my stomach and the heaviness in my heart.
"Put me down!" I screech, moving my fists wildly along with my feet like the pathetic mess I am but to no avail. Donny's grasp on me is too tight, my body flung over his shoulder like a rag doll.
But all I can think about is her body. What will be done? More than likely, she will be cremated, something I know she would never want, and that is assuming that Bathilda is still in charge of the brothel come morning, and that it has not been burned to the ground. A part of my foolishly hopes in my desperation for companionship that perhaps she is still alive. It was happened before, when someone has been shot in the head and lived. Perhaps she is fighting for live at this very moment, sputtering for air and waiting for someone to come collect her and bring her to the hospital where her life will be saved.
But there is no room for stupidity or false hope here, no room or time for it, not if I want to escape alive, which deep down I do. Still, I cannot stop the tears from cascading down my cheeks, rolling onto Donny's shirt along with a mixture of mucus from my nose.
"Donny what the hell are you doing?" comes a voice, and Donny spins around so that I am facing one of his counterparts. Unceremoniously, he drops me, letting my body slide to the ground where I collapse weakly, resting on folded knees with my hands in my lap, completely unable to think or feel anything.
"We can't leave her here!" I hear him exclaim, voice sounding miles away as I stare bleakly at the floor, picturing the nights where Axelle and I would sit up in bed across from one another talking about everything from life to death. We discussed our lives, our ambitions, or fantasies, and dreams. We delved into one another's darkest and innermost secrets and our friendship was only bound tighter by the physical encounters we experienced when working together with a client. It was odd but true, touching another woman intimately, kissing her, made you grow closer, and with all boundaries and inhibitions knocked down in between us, we almost became one, essentially the same being.
"We don't know anything about her, she could be working for them!"
"Look guys…"
The air erupts in a mixture of gunshots, screams, and argument, each coming from various points around the brothel and as I kneel on the carpeted ground, I catch a glimpse of an emerging shadow, converging upon mine and blocking the light of a nearby lamp. Glancing up, I find myself looking into the cold eyes of the German traitor, Hugo Stiglitz, and just make out his fist before it slams across my temple, robbing me of consciousness.
I glance down at Annabelle, watching her sleeping frame on the cold steel table, eyes closed and framed with thick lashes that make her look slightly exotic, and incredibly beautiful.
More than that, she looks completely at ease when she sleeps, her face slackened instead of tense as it had been earlier, and her full lips slightly curved upward, as though on the verge of a smile. It is a big change from the girl I met in the brothel whose face was sultry, yet every time she thought I wasn't looking, I caught a glimpse of apparent unhappiness.
Stirring, my heartbeat quickens as she turns her head slightly, her right arm moving and her fingers twitching for the first time in hours, since our narrow escape from the brothel where we found her.
"She waking up yet?" Aldo asks from behind me and I nearly jump out of my skin at his unannounced presence, a hand flying to the knife sheathed alongside my belt instinctively.
"Does it look like she's waking up?" I mutter sarcastically, walking over to her side and glancing down at her. Her temple carries a massive bruise from where Hugo hit her, and I try and conceal my anger at the fact, although my disagreement over her treatment has been duly noted and ignored.
I suppose I should agree with the rest of the guys, treating her with caution as Aldo believes she may have tipped off the Gestapo about our whereabouts at the brothel, however it still makes no sense. The obvious loophole in the theory is how she would have even contacted them when she was with me up until they showed up, and there was still the fact that she had saved my life. Beyond that, Aldo had talked to the Madame a mere hour before, so it was extremely unlikely the girls could have known with enough time to warn the soldiers.
I just found it hard to believe the girl I was looking at was a traitor. Besides the fact that she was Jewish, there was just a feeling in my gut that we were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that this girl truly meant no harm. In fact, it seemed that she wanted retribution, the same as the rest of us. It was rare that I trusted so easily and Aldo knew that, so I couldn't help but wonder just why he was treating her like a war criminal.
As a moan escapes her lips I glance down at her, leaning down carefully as her eyes flutter open slowly, her face tightening immediately and into a grimace as she brings a hand to the side of her head and groans in pain.
"Looks like our little beauty is awake. Why don't you go get your bat Donny?" Aldo speaks, stepping past me and leaning over her, so closely that I want to push him away. Standing straight, I put my hands on my hips, narrowing my eyes dangerously.
"No." I say, and Aldo chuckles lightly under his breath, mumbling something beneath his breath yet ignoring my insolence.
"Hello there, how you feeling?" he asks with false sincerity that makes me physically ill.
"Like my skull has been split open. Why the hell did that guy hit me?" she says weakly, attempting to sit up before wincing and laying back down, throwing a hand over her eyes.
"Well, we've got a bit of a problem here, because you see, I don't quite trust you. So, Donny is about to go get his bat, and we're going to find out whether or not you can be trusted. You know who Donny is?"
At his threat I can barely stop myself from rolling my eyes, remaining firmly rooted in my spot as I watch Annabelle blink in a groggy stupor. The poor thing barely even looks conscious, and Aldo is drilling her mercilessly.
"Yeah." She answers with a croak, her voice scratchy.
"You know what they call him?"
"The Bear Jew." She replies, this time with a slight chuckle that sends her into a wild series of coughing. Sighing, I shake my head, considering leaving this entire mess and going to my room. My only problem is there is no way in hell I'm going to leave her with Aldo, not with his far-off suspicions and eagerness to inflict pain on anyone who hasn't proved themselves to him. How he has made it this far without being incarcerated, I'll truly never know.
"And you know why they call him The Bear Jew?"
"Well, my guess as always been the dark hair, Jewish heritage, and massive frame, but I suppose I could be wrong." She shoots with such fiery attitude that I find myself chuckling.
At the sound Aldo glances at me, giving me a look so menacing that I can feel the grin slide right off my face and onto the floor below. Regardless of his intentions, that fact is I don't want to get on his bad side.
"So you're a wise ass. Well, they call him that because he beats the shit out of Nazi's with a baseball bat."
"Well I suppose it's my lucky day seeing as how I'm not a Nazi." She croons, and again I grin. Finally, someone who can rival Aldo and evidently without fear of being knocked into the next century. The way she spits and hurls jabs is remarkable, not to mention her quickness of tongue. A girl like her could be very useful to our cause, and it absolutely astounds me that Aldo cannot see that.
"I'm going to ask you a few question, and if I think you're lying or you get smart with that pretty little mouth of yours, I'm going to get Donny over here, and he's going to knock your teeth out with his bat. Do you understand me?"
"I suppose, although it looks to me as though you might have to get someone else, because I see no bat, and no willingness to beat me with one."
"You know, you're really starting to test my patience girly, and I don't think you want to do that. First things first, it's some coincidence that the S.S. show up the night we come in." he leans forward, voice dripping with ice.
"It's a brothel, they come in there all the time. In case you didn't know, we kind of have a reputation."
"Yeah but the night we're there a full shootout happens?"
"Bathilda could've tipped them off. She's about has German as they come, devoted to the cause. Besides that I'm Jewish. I've been there for the past few years collecting information that I thought could help the cause. I didn't think I'd meet someone I could give it to though to be honest."
"You think being Jewish means anything? Some kind of automatic verification that you're on the right side? You know how many Jews have turned on their own kind and started working for big Adolf up there in hopes of freeing their families or saving themselves? Whether you're Jewish or not means nothing."
"What about the information I have? I can tell you things that you'll never get from anyone else. Donny was bringing me to you when we walked in on you and Francesca. Names, locations, dates, plans. You name it."
"And how'd you get that?"
"You'd be surprised what men are willing to indulge after a good orgasm."
At this Aldo fell completely silent, standing up straight with his hands on his hips and glancing down at Annabelle with a look of intense contemplation, as though he may have been considering that there was some truth in her words. Watching hesitantly, I remained where I stood, prepared in the event that he decided to test her physically. I never knew Aldo to hit a girl, but there was a first time for everything.
"What's your name?" he asks sharply.
"Annabelle Steinschneider."
"And what exactly are you doing all the way in Paris?"
"When I was 14…when the war was really revving up, I was walking home one night and got cornered by a couple of guys. I suppose it was my fault for walking through the streets of Brooklyn that late at night by myself, but either way, what happened, happened. I could barely walk home that night, the pain was unbearable, but was worse was the names they called me. That night I really believed that I was the scum of the Earth. As if that wasn't enough, my grandparents…I never actually met them, but I had seen pictures. They were sent to a camp, and they died there. Whether you chose to believe it or not, I've got an axe to grind, and I'm not going to stop until I finally get some kind of closure for the things that have happened to me."
Her words were poignant, each one wavering with extreme emotion that threatened to break free at any moment, and for the first time I realized that she really was just a girl, a human teenage girl. She felt just like the rest of the world, and struggled to contain her emotions. She was no different from anyone else, and she had been hurt, both physically and emotionally.
"How old are you?" Aldo breathed.
"17."
"I mean how old are you really? I get a lot of guys must go for the young age."
"I'm 17, completely and fully. I'll be 18 in a few weeks." She insisted, and I watch as Aldo raises his eyebrows. I cannot help but continue to struggle with my own disbelief, there is just no way in hell she can only be 17.
"Jesus. Sure didn't make them like that when I was a teenager. So, what kind of supposed information have you got for me?"
"Do you have a pen and paper?"
Aldo turns to me, and I look around the room, searching for any sort of writing utensil and paper that I can find without having to search upstairs. Finding a small scrap, I bring it back and pull a pen from my loaded pockets, handing it to Annabelle. She takes it, eyes lingering on mine for a moment before sitting up slowly, swinging her legs around and leaning over as she begins to write on the table.
Aldo makes his way to her, glancing over her shoulder at what she writes, and I watched as a mixture of surprise crosses his face, his eyebrows raised before folding over and furrowing as he studies the paper intently.
"Damn. Well, looks like you'll live to see another day." He murmurs, glancing up at me before biting his lip and stepping away from Annabelle. As he does so she looks up, folding the paper neatly and handing it over to him, which he takes and slips into his pocket.
Cautiously, I step closer to the table, standing beside Annabelle and watching with concern as she winces, swaying slightly before attempting to stand up. Grabbing her forearm, I grip her tightly, helping stabilize her stance as she shuts her eyes tightly.
"You alright?" I ask.
"Yeah, the German guy did a hell of a number when he knocked me out. It feels like my head is about to split open." She says, voice slightly hollow and empty.
"You could use some sleep after tonight. Come on, I'll help you upstairs." I say, putting an arm around here so that she can lean against me for support. As she does so, I notice she looks down at the ground, eyes dull. I remember that she has lost a friend, and as we begin to make our way to the stairs, I swallow, never having been good with this sort of thing.
"I'm sorry about your friend." I offer, and she attempts to grin slightly at my gesture, nodding her head.
"Thanks."
"I know Aldo gave you a hard time back there but he's impressed, I can tell. You were pretty amazing back there." I continue as we make our way up the steps, reaching out a hand and patting her back in an awkward way that I hope she doesn't note. I want to comfort her, but I simply do not know how.
It seems she notes my good intentions though, and we make our way up the rest of the steps in silence, leaving behind a chapter in her life, and beginning a very new one in mine.
