Me: Hello everyone! I finally got some inspiration to write some Tintin stuff! :D
Tintin: Oh lord... -_-''
Me: You're fine~ Now! I'll do this disclaimer! I, AkuRoku18, do not own the Adventures of Tintin, nor am I making a profit of this fic~! :D
Tintin: Right then. You people go read. Watch me suffer some more. TT n TT
Me: Oh, you're okay! -hugs- I'll make sure you kick some ass in the next chapter~~ -hint hint wink wink-
Chapter 6
September 19, 1940
Axel von Gottfried was sitting at the bar, rubbing his temples. He'd ordered a search for Tintin, the boy who'd somehow managed to elude the general. He grumbled when he thought about the pesky reporter and took a drink of gin. Von Gottfried loved the drink, but this time it tasted foul in his mouth. As with most of his problems, he blamed Tintin. Bringing Tintin before Hitler was supposed to bring him glory. Fame. Recognition by some of the greatest men in the National Socialist German Workers' Party. He would be promoted to Reichsmarschall, the highest honor in the Nazi army, and replace Hermann Göring. Von Gottfried chuckled at the thought, but was pulled out of his daydreams when a soldier cleared his throat behind the general.
"Herr von Gottfried," he said promptly, saluting as the general turned around.
"Was? What do you want, soldier? I thought I ordered all my men to find Tintin!" Axel grumbled as he looked at the soldier.
The younger man shifted slightly and said, "W-well… we are looking, Herr von Gottfried, but some of the other men are questioning you!"
"Questioning me." Axel's eyebrows narrowed. His face suddenly twisted up in anger and he slammed his fist on the bar counter, sending his glass to the ground, shattering it, and causing the soldier to jump slightly. Von Gottfried's ice blue eyes blazed with anger as he shouted, "Questioning me about what?! They are my mindless pawns! They do not need – no, they do not deserve – to question me! All they need to do is follow my damn orders! Is that so hard, soldier?!"
"N-nein, Herr von Gottfried! B-but they're wondering if what you're doing is really for the Führer o-or just for… yourself!"
Axel forced himself to relax. Underneath his now calm expression, however, rage still burned. He smiled coldly and said with an eerie calmness, "Nein, soldier. Everything I have done here is for mein Führer. Tintin is a major threat to the Nazi regime, and I intend to bring him down. But… that's not the point right now…" Axel got up and put a hand on the soldiers shoulder. "These are, of course, not your thoughts on me, are they? The whole… 'I'm doing this for myself thing', correct?"
"Nein, Herr von G-Gottfried…" the younger male stuttered. He noticed Axel put a hand on the pistol at his side. "I-I'm just telling you what I heard other men saying…"
"Gut. Because… you know what happens to soldiers who speak against their generals here?" von Gottfried asked coldly, pulling the gun, a Luger P08, out of its holster at his side and pointing it at the soldier's forehead. The young man yelped as von Gottfried continued, "They wind up with a bullet through their skull."
"J-j-ja, Herr von Gottfried! I-I won't think of it again!" The soldier's voice cracked out of fear.
"Sehr gut. Now." Axel put the gun back in its holster and smiled wider, the scar on his face warping. "Don't you have a Belgian spy to capture for me?"
"J-jawohl! Hagel Kapitän von Gottfried!" the soldier cried and ran out of the bar, muttering something in German.
Axel von Gottfried's smile widened further, revealing his teeth. "Very soon… Tintin shall be brought before me… and I shall have everything I want."
It had been two days since Tintin was rescued by Frenchman with the checkered beret. The reporter was resting on a small bed, asleep but very much alive. Snowy was by his side, anxiously awaiting his master to wake up. Eventually, he did, cracking open his eyes and looking around the small room. It was small with one window allowing what little light was outside in the night to stream into the room. Next to the bed was a nightstand. There was a desk in the corner with a small candle lit, illuminating some papers. Tintin sat up, much to the delight of Snowy, and asked, "Where… am I? Not the cave, obviously…"
"You're in my home, mon ami!" a voice, heavily accented with French, said cheerfully. Tintin's eyes darted to the doorway to see the Frenchman with the checkered beret.
"A-and where's that?"
"Just outside of Lascaux~ You don't have to worry!" the man laughed, walking into the room. He was holding a small tray with some croissants on a plate and a glass of water. "If you're hungry, then help yourself! I just made these~" he said, placing the tray on the nightstand.
Tintin nodded gratefully and took a croissant and wolfed it down hungrily. He hadn't eaten in two days, so he eagerly grabbed another. "Mmh… fank yu," he mumbled through the bread.
"It's my pleasure, Mr. Tintin!" the man laughed. "Just don't eat too quickly, mon ami~"
"Mmh! Right…" Tintin chewed and swallowed, exhaling with satisfaction. "Those are good," he said, smiling slightly at the Frenchman. "I take it you're the one who saved me. You have my complete gratitude."
The Frenchman laughed and bowed, taking off his beret to reveal tussled brown hair. "As I have said, it's my pleasure, Mr. Tintin~" he said warmly. He straightened and put his beret back on. "I could never leave someone to die, even if they're wanted by those cheins allemands."
"Ah… right… Germans… Sylvestre!" Tintin said suddenly. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up shakily. The Frenchman looked a little shocked when the young reporter stood. Even Snowy barked in disagreement. "Spirydon Sylvestre. He's the one that trapped me in that cave in the first place…" Tintin muttered. Disgust showed clearly in his voice.
"Sylvestre… I've heard of him, mon ami," the man said, furrowing his bushy brows. "He's a Russian-French killer."
"How do you know?"
"I know because the very same man killed a good friend of mine a couple years ago… and another just three days ago. About the same time he confronted you, je crois que…" the Frenchman murmured.
Tintin narrowed his eyes and thought back to when he first encountered Sylvestre. The scientists. The boys. The policemen. Yann. "He… wouldn't have happened to be a police officer, would he?" Tintin asked somberly.
"Oui. A good friend. Yann Léonide."
"I… I'm sorry." Tintin sat back on the bed and rubbed his temples.
"Que? What for?"
"I was there. He and two others, Victor and Raymond, came down to help me with Sylvestre… but Yann ended up getting shot in the chest and there was nothing I could do about it…" Tintin muttered. He cursed under his breath and was tempted to punch something. The Frenchman sat next to Tintin and put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. The reporter looked up at the other male and saw a smile on his face.
"I don't blame you, if that's what you're thinking. Yann was doing his job. He… always had a good set of morals, vous le savez? I betcha he wanted to do what was right till the end," the Frenchman said with a hint of sadness creeping into his voice. He smiled a little more and continued, "But, bien sûr, I'll never blame you! You're not the one who did it; Sylvestre did."
"But, I…!"
The Frenchman closed his eyes and shook his head. "Non! No more arguing from you!" He laughed and stood up. "Je ne vais pas l'entendre!"
"R-right…" Tintin sighed and looked at the ground. He knew he could never forgive himself for the deaths of innocent people when a killer was after him specifically. But, he also knew he had to move on. Find Sylvestre. Clear his name from Nazi suspicion.
"Now then! I haven't introduced myself. How rude of me… I'm Eloi Guy~ Nice to meet you~" Eloi said.
"Likewise. And… I truly am sorry about Yann…"
Eloi nodded and murmured, "I know and I will miss him, but you can't worry about how I'm feeling right now." Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Eloi ran to it and looked through the mail slot, running back into the room. His face paled. "S-sacrebleu! Th-the Nazis! They've come looking for you!" he said quickly.
"The Nazis? Damn… they must be looking for me… here, let me go to them," Tintin said, standing up again. His leg was still sore, but he ignored the pain and walked to the door. Eloi held him back.
"Non, non, non! Tintin, mon ami, don't turn yourself in! You'll be killed!" Eloi exclaimed, tugging on Tintin's shirt sleeve. "Or worse! You'll be brought to Hitler! Put in one of those concentration camps! Shot! Gassed!"
"I get it, I get it! But I have to find out what Axel really wants from me…"
Eloi raised an eyebrow and asked, "Axel?"
"Axel von Gottfried. The general who's sending all these Nazis after me. I need to find out what that general wants from me so desperately."
"But, can't you do that some other way?! The Nazis aren't gonna go easy on you just because you'r—"
The Nazis banged on the door again and one of them shouted, "Aufmachen! Wir zwingen die tür, wenn sie nicht daran halten!" Eloi looked back at the door and furrowed his brows.
"Sacrebleu… Tintin, don't do it."
Tintin shook his head and said, "I have to. I'm sorry, Eloi, but I—" He was cut off with a desperate glare from Eloi's brown eyes. They clearly read 'don't go.' Another bang on the door from the Nazis. Tintin shook his head again and broke out of Eloi's grasp. He walked to the door and opened it, startling some Nazis. "Here I am. You're looking for me aren't you? Take me to von Gottfried," he said coldly. Snowy growled.
"Ach… Tintin! You vill… uh… come vith us," one of the Nazis said slowly, pointing his machine gun at the young reporter.
"Fine." Tintin put his hands up in surrender. The group of six Nazis rushed into the house, a couple of them pointing their guns at Eloi who put his hands up as well.
"Französisch verräter ... versteckt den feind von uns!" a Nazi hissed, baring his teeth and hitting Eloi in the stomach with the butt of his gun. The Frenchman doubled over, clutching his stomach.
Tintin snarled and advanced towards the Nazi that attacked Eloi. "Hey! If you hurt him, I won't comply, you hear?!" he growled, grabbing the Nazi by the collar of his uniform. Immediately, five gun barrels turned toward the reporter, so he let the soldier go. Snowy growled, itching to sink his teeth into a Nazis leg.
The leader, who had the traditional Iron Cross on his helmet, nodded solemnly and ordered the men to stand down. The other Nazis grumbled something or other, but lowered their guns and left the small house. The leader turned to Tintin and said gruffly, "Come vith us. Now."
"I will. Just don't hurt this man or my dog," Tintin said, glancing at Eloi and kneeling next to Snowy. "Stay here Snowy. I'll get out of this," he whispered. He looked at Eloi and mouthed, "I'm sorry."
"Get up," the lead Nazi growled, jabbing Tintin in the back with his gun. Tintin glared over his shoulder and stood up to follow the Nazi. Snowy whimpered and trotted next to Eloi, licking his face.
Eloi patted Snowy's head and smiled weakly. "He'll come back… the Nazis have nothing on him…!" He looked out the ajar door and caught one last glimpse of Tintin before he boarded the Nazis amoured car and rode away.
Axel von Gottfried had taken his tank and crew back to the base on the De Marcation line. He was pacing back and forth in his tent. He heard that a squadron of men had apprehended Tintin and was eagerly awaiting them to return and deliver the reporter to him. The German stopped walking and chewed on his thumbnail. What if Spyridon had attacked his squad? What if something happened to the car? He heard a car pull up into the base, so he ran out of the tent and shouted, "Wohl?! Haben sie ihn?!"
"Ja! Wir haben Tintin!" the Nazi leader that captured Tintin in Lascaux yelled triumphantly, grabbing a person roughly by the shoulder and throwing him into the dirt. He had a bag over his head and his wrists were bound by rope. Axel ran to the person and yanked the bag off his head. It was Tintin.