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Post by Luther Von Ritterschwarz on Aug 22, 2007 11:31:48 GMT -5
Luther narrowed his eyes at her laugh, but said nothing. He drew more from the cigerette and put it out in a tray nearby, only three quarters used. He used this time of silence to inspect the damage done, it had been a while since Luther had any armed combat but the smell of blood, the feel of the wound, brought back memories. One in particular came to mind, but it wasn't a fond one. His eyes glazed over in distant thought, until snapping back when she moved. For a while he wondered why she hasnt moved at all, considering he asked for a coffee and you point blankly laughed at it.
Subconsiously the nazi took a pistol from a draw beneath the small table. He checked it was loaded then flipped it closed again. For a tiny moment, Luther actually felt sorry for her and it may have showed briefly in his eyes, but he raised the pistol anyway, remorse was not a trait he acted on, at least not as strangly as revenge or malice. Luthers hand was steady, and it appeared to be aimed directly to the doctors head. Slowly, Luther pulled the trigger, only the click echoed in the silent room.
Luther checked the gun to make sure nothing was wrong, then aimed again. Squeezed his finger, but the click was all that happened. His maniacle laugh erupted shortly after, followed by the opening of the gun and loaded of bullets. It was now clear he knew there was nothing in it and was toying with her mind. Now the gun sat loaded and he aimed again, his smile plastered on his face. "Choice a; bring me coffee or choice b; I shoot you now. Before you decide, remember I do not indend to kill. Merely, wound."
The nazi kept the gun aimed to her head. His wound seemed to slowly stop bleeding, now that he wasnt straining with anything but he had lost alot of blood. Luther had a great aim, even with the tacky german guns but too many things spoke that he is not thinking right, the lack of air and blood to the brain, due to the wound, sex and cigerette, it would be hard to trust whether he could aim at all. Who would be foolish enough to test and see if the aim was right?
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Post by Dr. Joan L. Wellington on Aug 23, 2007 22:12:28 GMT -5
Joan's large green eyes glared at him when he clicked the gun twice at her. She wasn't scared, death to her would be freedom right now. For right now she could not bare going through another rough taking of this nazi. A smirk spread across her face, and it made her look even more like she thought him not as a threat but as nothing. Nothing anymore, Joan was not scared.
"I choose B, made the damn fucking coffee yourself you disgusting excuse for a human, you fucking creature!" she said her thick british accent slipping through every word. Her voice held no fear, or sadness just hate, hate for him and everything he stood for.
Joan folded her legs under herself, they burned slightly still, and her entire body was sore. She ran a hand through her damp red hiar before locking eyes on him again. Her eyes never moving.
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Post by Major Faxon Jurgen on Aug 25, 2007 1:20:08 GMT -5
Inspection. It was quite possibly the most terrible job ever assigned to him. Faxon had enough to deal with at his own camp, and he didn't need to have this Luther's problems pushed onto him. Didn't want to have to judge out the wrongs. Doing that would just lay more on Faxon, Luther being a good rank below him. Ha. Placing Major Faxon Jurgen as head of this fine little camp as long as he decided. He wonder how the Captain would feel about having his rank stripped so suddenly.
Prisoners of War. Extremely important. More sophisticated by far then the extermination his camp provided for the cattle that came in by the hundreds. Thousands. The faces were different, but the smell was the same, and the Major offered a grim smirk to the men passing him by.
Faxon had spent the last three hours on a simple patrol, flanked as always by brutish men with malicious eyes and too much enthusiasm. The shiniest were given to him, in order to please, as if they thought assigning him sycophantic morons would influence his marks. Their uniforms were nice, though, which made him happy. And they were all eager to obey, snapping to attention before he could even notice them. It was uncanny. Apparently Captain Ritterschwarz used fear to inspire his men in ways Faxon would never have expected. Practical, and Faxon approved. While at the same time, was revolted. He would ask the methods.
What he did not approve of was the man's absence. He expected a greeting from Luther himself, but instead was met by a lowly officer with a severely mousy appeal. It was an insult, and dreadfully annoying. At last he could take it no longer, and asked to see the Captain.
The request was met by a few short barks of laughter, and a low buzz of snickering. Their story shocked him, and he was instantly off to find the man before too much damage could be done.
Still flanked by two guards, who he ignored, Faxon was pointed off towards the building that housed the higher-ranking soldiers' offices and rooms. The Major, eyebrows curved and lips pressed to a thin slit, knocked on the Captain's door.
Taking a prisoner as a pet. Disgraceful. If she was dead, there would be consequences. She was a doctor. Not needed here, but useful for questioning.
[ooc] Faxon's crashing your thread o-o
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Post by Luther Von Ritterschwarz on Sept 16, 2007 1:53:02 GMT -5
Her outburst made him smile. He admired red heads and their temper, made it all worth while to taunt them, especially when they werent in any position of power. His fingers tightened on the trigger but the knock on the door stopped him. Slowly he lowered the pistol, his tongue making a slow movement as if to cluck. He inhaled deeply and looked for a clock somewhere, anywhere. Surely he had a clock! Luther unloaded the gun and threw it onto the table. Walking stiffly to his clothes, he roughly put them on, though he had no idea what time it was, he suspected he spent a bit too long with the Prisoner. The nazi gingerly decreased his uniform, giving extra care around the wound area. He took a last glance at her, baring his teeth slightly as words came hissed between them "I am not finished with you" pausing for emphasis he c.ocked his eyebrow to her clothes "I doubt you need them" Luther laughed and finished adding the details to his uniform, his coat, pistol and gloves. Again he looked like a true german officer of rank. Dispite there being a blood spot and hole in the outfit. The captain left her there to answer the door, it was strange considering those of rank didnt open their own doors, Luther had a thing for being non depandable on servents to open his damn doors or pour his wine (or moreso, his heavy german spirits). At first Luther was about to snap at the man who greeted him, but he eyes homed in on the uniform and, more importantly, the symbols of rank on the shoulders. Instantly he stood straight and spoke formally in german "Willkommen herr Major" (Welcome sir Major) He gave a brief salute and a dip of his head, showing respect but also that his own position needed respect. The Hauptmann stepped back, allowing his superior to enter at will, also adding "Würden Sie ein Getränk mögen, Herr?" (Would you like a drink, sir?). When he stood back, his entire uniform could be seen, perfect in everyway, other than the blood, the creases around the wound and the hole from the bullet itself. Luther cursed his appearance, and wondered if the quicker answering of the door was worth the bitterness of having a poor uniform. The nazi did give a subtle glare at his offericer, silently saying 'I'll deal with you later' in which the offerice dipped his head and stepped back. OOC: haha curse you faxon, you thread crasher!
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Post by Major Faxon Jurgen on Sept 17, 2007 20:15:40 GMT -5
Faxon didn't flinch as the door swung open, though his insides allowed a small tremor. Emitting emotion only got you demoted or worse, but they still couldn't regulate feelings. The Captain seemed momentarily irritated, but instant recognition cleared his features, and he stood smartly to attention. Faxon gave him the respect, pleased with the man, and clicked his own heels, bowing his head without breaking eye contact. Without thinking, he raised his hand in a salute to the noble leader. That gesture no longer had any meaning for him, it had been used so often. It was just a thing out of familiarity, and another thing that could be punished should he fail to do it.
Faxon moved into the room, nothing briefly the poor condition of the uniform. This was at first met with contempt and annoyance, then he realized it was more then just sloppiness. The man was wounded. Giving the naked woman nothing more then a considering glance, he dismissed her just as quickly as he did the condition of the Captain's uniform. Though the annoyance did not wear off, and he would ask about the wound. Not while the inferior men lingered, though.
"Bitte." (Thank you-informal) He said in response to the offer, nodding his head. Faxon waited to be served while Luther dismissed his men. His own guards followed suit, but he was sure they would not stray far. They never did, but he remembered to give them permission to do as they please. The men would be eager to eat and rest with their fellow…whatever.
[ooc] Oh, I know. How awful.
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