Me: FINALLY CHAPTER 2! :D
Tintin: Guh. You really are so mean to me... -_-''
Me: Awww, not really~! I could be worse you know... 8)
Tintin: ... your sadism knows no bounds. ._.
Me: *evil laughter* 8D
Tintin: Hmmm. I think I should just do the disclaimer and get this over with. AkuRoku18 doesn't own Tintin, or is she making a profi- Are you okay? O_o
Me: *coughing* Laughed... too much... X_X
Tintin: *pat pat* There, there. Anyway, you people go read the story. ._.
Chapter 2
September 14, 1940
Haddock had only been gone for a day, yet Tintin already missed his company. Nestor assured him that he'd be back soon.
"Do not fret, sir. I'm sure the Captain will be home in Marlinspike soon, sir," Nestor said.
"Of course, Nestor…" was the reply from Tintin's chair. Nestor sighed and left the room just as the Professor walked in with something hidden behind his back.
"Perhaps you can make him feel better, sir," whispered the butler.
"No, no, never on a Saturday, to be sure," Professor Calculus said. He walked to Tintin's chair and asked, "Are you still sitting here? You should get outside, my dear boy."
Tintin sighed and said, "I'd like to stay in, if you don't mind." Snowy whined and tugged at Tintin's pant leg, and Tintin shooed him away.
"Yes, but do you see what I have here? A letter addressed to you, Tintin!" Calculus handed the reporter the object he was holding.
Tintin took it and read the writing on the front, "'From Le Petit Vingtieme. To Mr. Tintin, 26 Labrador Road…' then, I suppose Mrs. Finch forwarded the letter to Marlinspike; I recognize her handwriting." He chuckled, "I suppose I should tell Le Petit Vingtieme that I don't live at my old apartment anymore." Tintin took a letter opener from the coffee table beside him and opened the letter. Two papers were inside; one that looked very official from the editors of the newspaper and a letter scrawled out in a fancy-looking yet messy handwriting.
"What does it say, Tintin?" the Professor inquired, peering over the paper in the young man's hands.
"They want me to go to Lascaux to get a report from the authorities on the whole cave discovery." Tintin said, "They wrote a post script. Hang on… 'Try to get statements from the boys who found the caves as well.'"
"That's all very fascinating, but you've been asked to go to Lascaux? How exciting!" Calculus giggled. "You are a very lucky young man~"
Tintin looked at the Professor and smiled slightly. "I suppose so." His eyes drifted slowly to the other paper with the messy cursive writing. "What does this one say? Let's see… 'Dear Mr. Tintin, my name is Claude Augustin, a minor reporter for Le Petit Vingtieme. The editors there have asked us to work together on this report…' I didn't see that anywhere in the letter from them…" Tintin scanned the letter from Le Petit Vingtieme again; he didn't read anything about a partner. Snowy growled. He didn't trust the letter much, either. "Hmmm… I suppose we'll meet this Claude character and see if his story is true."
Within two hours' time, Tintin was on a train to Lascaux from Loir-et-Cher. The train had momentarily stopped at the De Marcation line that divided Occupied France from Vichy France. The train was searched by a couple of Nazi soldiers and everyone's papers were checked. The passengers of the train had to stand in a line and bring their passports to an officer sitting at a table.
When Tintin brought his passport to the table, the officer immediately asked, "Dein name ist Tintin, ja?"
"Ja. Gibt es eine schweirigkeit?" replied Tintin. He rarely had to speak German, but fortunately he knew some. Snowy sat at Tintin's side, glaring at the officer.
"Komm mit mir. Jetzt," the officer said sternly, standing up from the table with Tintin's passport clenched in his hand. Tintin raised an eyebrow and looked at the officer's back suspiciously, but said nothing and followed the German.
"Was ist das?" Tintin asked. But the officer said nothing. I don't like the looks of this… thought the reporter. Snowy barked loudly, causing the guard to whip around on his heels and glare at Tintin.
He snarled through clenched teeth, "Halt den hund bis!"
"Ja, ja! Er ist einfach nur nervös!" Snowy growled and prepared to bark again, but Tintin knelt next to the little dog and hissed, "Be quiet, Snowy!" He picked Snowy up and put his hand over the dog's mouth. "Es. Er ist ruhig," he told the officer. The German snorted and turned around to continue leading Tintin to a large tent.
"Eingeben," said the guard when they came to the entrance, lifting the flap of canvas. He gave the reporter his passport. Tintin nodded and went into the tent. It was a circular tent with two tables; one that Tintin was facing and another to his left. The left hand table had a radio and portable telegraph station. The table in front of Tintin had a man sitting at it with his face close to the table. He seemed to be writing something.
The man looked up from his paperwork and gestured for Tintin to sit at the table. "Willkommen, Herr Tintin. Please take a seat," he said. The reporter stayed where he was.
"Excuse me, but what's going on here? Why was I brought here? Who are you?"
"I'm sure all of your questions will be answered over a drink, eh, Herr Tintin?" laughed the man, pulling a bottle of gin out of his desk. "Ahh… Steinhäger… the finest German gin. Would you care for some?"
"No, thank you. I don't drink," Tintin replied. He decided it would be a good idea to take the seat the German had offered, considering he was right in the middle of a Nazi camp. While sitting, he examined the man sitting across from him. He had slicked back, dark blonde hair with grey streaks just beginning to appear and cold blue eyes. The man had a small scar on his cheek. He wore a fancy looking, dark green military uniform with several medals on it.
After the German had poured a glass of gin for himself, he said, "I am Captain Axel von Gottfried, leader of this little outpost."
"Why am I here?" Tintin asked firmly. Snowy started growling, but Tintin put his hand over the dog's mouth again.
"Patience, patience, mein freund. I just need to recheck your papers to be sure everything is in order, Herr Tintin," von Gottfried replied, beckoning Tintin to give him the passport.
Tintin eyed the gun at the German's side and concluded it would be wise to follow von Gottfried's commands. He put the passport on the table and the man opposite from him took it. The reporter watched anxiously as von Gottfried flipped through the little book.
"You've been around the world, correct, Herr Tintin?" asked the German, not even looking up from the passport.
"More or less," Tintin replied. Snowy squirmed slightly in Tintin's arms.
"I've heard you've stopped notorious criminals. Would you say that makes you a Sherlock Holmes of today's age?"
Is this an interview or an interrogation? "I wouldn't necessarily say that, sir," the reporter said.
"Back home in my town of Heinsburg, talk of your heroics inspired many people."
"I… I'm glad to hear that."
Von Gottfried closed Tintin's passport and set it on his desk. He folded his hands and said, "I've checked over your papers, Herr Tintin. It seems they are not in order. You'll have to stay here until we verify them." He stood and walked a few paces. Before Tintin could protest, the German continued, "But, do not fear. We'll make your stay very comfortable."
Very comfortable, indeed, Tintin thought as he sat on a bunk that was as hard as rock. The same guard that brought him to the camp led him to a small tent guarded at both entrances. It was a dusty canvas tent with a bunk and a bucket. Snowy paced back and forth agitatedly. Occasionally, the guards would say something or laugh, breaking the silence of the night.
Eventually, Tintin stood and stretched. He walked to one of the entrances and peeked outside. The two guards were asleep. I see very alert and prepared men are in the German army, thought Tintin amusedly. He checked the rear entrance, and again both guards were fast asleep. Now's my chance to get out of here! He beckoned Snowy to follow him and whispered, "Stay quiet." Snowy yipped quietly. Tintin pushed the rear entrance tent flap open and tiptoed past the sleeping Germans. Fortunately, it looked like the rest of the camp was either asleep or blissfully unaware that their prisoner was escaping. The young man was quietly sneaking over a barbed wire fence, when his pant leg caught on a barb. He tried to jerk it free, but that failed and he lost his grip of the wire, leaving a long but shallow cut on his arm. Tintin gritted his teeth but made no noise. Luckily, he managed to free himself from the barb and he half landed, half collapsed onto the ground. Fearing the noise may have woken someone, Tintin grabbed Snowy and ran to a nearby dip in the ground.
"Haban sie etwas, Erik?" a voice asked. Snowy growled softly, but Tintin clapped his hand over the dog's muzzle.
"Sie hören dinge, dumme Hans~" Hans's companion laughed. The two guards moved farther away, so Tintin could breathe again.
"That was a close one, Snowy. If only my blasted pants hadn't got caught…" He examined his cut arm. "Ouch… that's going to leave a mark." He shook his head and said, "Come on, Snowy. We've got a long way to go if we're going to get to Corrèze by tomorrow." Snowy barked softly in agreement. The pair walked west until they found the train line. The camp wasn't that far from the tracks, so their walk didn't take long. Tintin and Snowy turned south and began their trek to Lascaux.
"Idioten! How did he escape?" roared von Gottfried. He was pacing back and forth in his tent with the four guards that slept peacefully in front of Tintin's tent.
The first guard stuttered, "W-w-wohl… w-we fell a-asleep, mein Kapitän."
"J-ja, we didn't think tha—" the second guard chimed in, but was cut off when von Gottfried slammed his fist on the desk.
"NEIN! You aren't here to think, dummkopf! You listen to me, and you listen very well, dumm bastarde. You get out there and find Tintin before he reaches Corrèze! I will not have that damned Slyvestre beat me to it! Verstehen?"
"Jawohl! Hagel Kapitän von Gottfried!" cried the soldiers and they ran out of the tent.
Von Gottfried looked at the bottle of gin that he had left on the table. He snarled and threw it against the ground. "Verfluche ihn! Fluch dass Tintin! I swear I will find you. And I will kill you. And I will not let that damned vodka-drinking, sly Russian beat me! ICH SCHWÖRE, TINTIN!"