'Til Death, Like the Workhorse [Open]

[Leeroy Atherton]

Country: Occupied France
Current Time: 10:00 in the morning, May 1944
Weather Conditions: Windy, overcast; a storm is coming

Her fingers bled and were bruised to the bone, but she worked. The bottoms of her feet were battered and blood-blistered, but she worked. Her arms were strained and she had nearly thrown out her back, her ribs bruised and cracked in a couple of places, but she worked. It was either to work, or to die under the French sun, toiling away in the work camps of the German army. Sweat stung open wounds and made her prisoner's uniform stick to her, but Leeroy Atherton blocked out all the pain, all the negative stimuli, and instead hauled two more bags of gravel onto her shoulders.

She was temporarily being held in a prisoner's camp/quarry. According to those of her captors who spoke English, she would not be released. Instead, she would be transferred to a temporary camp before being placed somewhere in France or Germany; she shuddered at the thought. Over the past several weeks, a veritable font of horrifying information had become known to her, and like a sturdy barrel over a rocky shore, she nearly broke. Nearly, but she hadn't - all there had been were a few cracks in her otherwise stoic demeanour.

For one, not only had fighters on England's side been imprisoned. Along with the Jewish, some of whom had family members who had gone to England in time, the Romani, the homosexuals and other "undesirables" were being rounded up and killed. Culling the herd, the Germans were, to their tastes; it made Leeroy sick and frightened to the bone. They had already given her looks because of her dark skin, and she was worried that they would somehow find out that she was of Angloromani blood. Her fellow captives had whispered to her that she was already dead, that there would be no place for her in Hitler's eyes. She refused to believe them, as their eyes were dead, lifeless and burnt-out, like the bulb to a lamp that hadn't been changed in years. Leeroy could not, would not imagine her death so easily, that she could be shot (or worse) simply because "she did not fit in". She had never fit in in England, save for her door job at the Traveller; it would be the same in the grey and stone hell she had found herself in.

So, she rebelled in the most careful, most fitting way she knew how: she worked. She worked, and she worked hard; whenever another fell, too weak from abuse and malnutrition to walk, she took their load. When others slowed at picking new rock from the quarry, she doubled her efforts, chopping away at the stone with teeth gritted. When others' fingers grew numb from scrubbing down various vehicles as the guards watched closely, she gripped her soapy cloth only tighter, cleaning hard and carefully, not a speck of dust left in her wake. Some of the guards seemed impressed - she hoped so. If she made herself useful as long as she could, then Leeroy figured that it might give her enough time to figure out how to get out of there alive.

Today, it was another gravel job, carrying the sacks of broken stone back and forth, up and down the slope that nearly killed everyone's legs to climb. Leeroy was panting, carrying two rather large sacks, covered in enough sweat to squeeze into a small, shallow bowl. Thankfully it was not warm, as a cool wind whipped across her face in front of an oncoming storm. However, she was coughing and sniffing constantly, dust from the gravel thick in her nose and throat and lungs, the winds blowing away from the quarry and carrying more grit across the camp. Regardless, she pressed forward, carrying her load to a waiting truck who would drive it out of the camp.

[Casper Heniz]

The prison camp – of all the places he could have gone to, it was the prison camp. Well, this was fun. It was actually even more horrible for Casper. He knew a few people, people from his past that had been sent to these camps. On the day of his arrival here he had seen a few already. They had given him death stares – one had even shouted at him but before he could say anything else he had been dragged away. Thank goodness – for if anyone had heard....

Casper had seen a lot of other types of people – people who didn’t fit in in Hitler’s world. Jews...travellers...homosexuals like he....it was madness. But he could not do anything, he wasn’t allowed to. He luckily had been kept away from the homosexual area – just on complete luck. He sometimes looked over at it nervously when he was nearby, as if the walls could smell what he was and what his past had been. He had been here now three days – in all fairness it was an easy job. He just sat on a chair or lent against a wall and watched as the inmates worked hard at laborious tasks. It was quite boring for many. Casper was kept on edge though with the feeling of guilt in the bottom of his stomach. These people could have been him, he could have been here if he hadn’t realised sense and joined the SS. Good choice.

He had been assigned the job of watching as the inmates climbed a load of steps full of gravel from a quarry one day. It was a cool day – a light breeze blew through the camp. Casper sat, his eyes nervously darting everywhere. He sat, looking every inch the soldier with his gloves and warm coat. He looked at each face as it went by, watching their every move. He was on his own here – it was only a small patch of gravel. A few metres away up the steps, was a truck where the gravel was being put. He could see the top of the truck’s roof from his position at the bottom of the steps but nothing more. One person caught his eye. It was a dark skinned woman – she had been working hard all morning and hadn’t stopped. Odd that he picked her out but he had seen her before. She had been working continuously when others had stopped for rests. How strange. He stood up, she was coming back down the steps and he marched over to her. Though he wore a uniform of the SS, his features were still young and his eyes gave him away. ” Halt. Sie haben nicht für den Rest Mädchen blieb stehen.“ he said, cocking his head to one side and frowning. “ Warum ist das so?“ he asked, looking intently at her.

Translations:
Halt. You have not stopped for rest girl.
Why is that?

[Leeroy Atherton]

"Halt."

She halted, transferring the bags from her shoulders to her underarms. She stood as straight and rigidly as a board, eyes forward, not once taking her borderline hazel stare off of him. Her expression was as neutral and firm as any soldier's, and was a great deal more composed than the skittish look of the young soldier. Leeroy guessed him to be in his early twenties; she wondered for a moment if he was worried about being caught slacking off. A few times had the Romani noticed him leaning against the wall of the quarry.

"Sie haben nicht für den Rest Mädchen blieb stehen." he said, cocking his head to one side and frowning. "Warum ist das so?"

She could not speak German, so she could only barely catch his last sentence - "is that so" or something similar. The sound of his language was familiar, though; his ancestors, when they had invaded England in ancient times, had left a linguistic mark on the people of the West Country. Words like "bist" and German-esque speech patterns were but two examples of that shared bond between two peoples, who were unfortunately at war and one of a questionable taste in population control.

"Pardon me, good zir," said Leeroy, slowly and clearly, "but I bizt not underztandin' what 'ee be zayin'. I bizt not a speaker of German...Herr." The last part came after a thoughtful pause, Leeroy quickly picking her brain for the right and most respectful term she could think of. She had learned it from the other inmates who could speak English, some of which who were giving a quizzical glance at her accent and grammar.

[Casper Heniz]

The girl did not speak German. How stupid Casper had been! He had been told to brush up on his English before he came as he had been told that many of the inmates spoke little or no German. They were the ones who had been captured in places like France, or Holland, or even some people had been captured who were English – who did not necessarily speak German. Casper knew a bit of English, be it only a little. He rolled his eyes at her as she spoke in English, he then tapped his foot on the ground as he bit his lip. This was a tad annoying.

”Umm...” he glanced down at her. ”You....er....not........stopped....rest?” he tipped his head to one side, the words sounded bizarre – what was this odd language he was speaking? English yes, but the words did not sound right. ”Err....das....err....why?” he asked. He had struggled with his English and she probably would laugh at him when he was out of ear shot. He nodded to the bags she had under her arms and then waved at the ground, shrugging and cursing in German under his breath at his incompetence. He wished he had concentrated more on his studies then doing...well....leave that bit out of it.

He turned and glanced around; stopping another prisoner who had stopped to watch what was going on. He shouted at him: ” You! Stoppen Sie starrte!” The prisoner just stared still. Casper rolled his eyes and advanced towards him, swearing in German at him. The prisoner scarpered. Casper turned and walked back to Leeroy, his eyes boring into her’s.

Translations:
You! Stop staring!

[Leeroy Atherton]

On the contrary, Leeroy was not going to laugh at all. Her look was one of understanding, that the gist of his message had got across. They were all strangers in that quarry, as France was not their home, or it was and they had been taken from whatever village or city they had lived in. The young man, however, looked like his patience had been tried, and he barked at another inmate to stop staring. Leeroy's eyes flickered for a moment, over to the direction of the staring inmate, but her body remained still. She then looked back, only to meet a gaze hard and deep, meant to intimidate and draw information with. Leeroy was not intimidated, and answered anyways.

"I be not tired, Herr," said Leeroy. "I be havin' much energy to zpare, zo I continue to be working. When I be not able to work anymore, I will ztop." No sarcasm, no other emotion, just a clear and concise explanation as to what her rationale was to continue. She was not in a position or a mood to cause a fight, and hopefully the soldier would understand her. Leeroy wasn't sure why he asked in the first place, though; as long as she continued to work, would that not make them happy? Or did her continued strength and dedication single her out, make her seem like some sort of threat or a problem to be dealt with?

Whatever happened in that windblown quarry, Leeroy hoped that it wouldn't end violently or painfully. She was not afraid of death, in her mind, but that didn't mean she didn't still feel wary or fearful. Any torture to prolong a suffering existence before her end was also something she did not like to think about; she had heard whispers of such vile treatment of the prisoners by the Germans.

[Rudolf Steiner]

A lone blond male with closely cropped hair and an extremely neat suit, shinning black leather boots and a hat fit perfectly on his locks of blond hair stood idly watching with a look of absolute arrogance in his icy cold gray eyes. A cigarette dangling from his lips as his long, slender fingers reached up for it as he exhaled a single plume of smoke as he did. Watching from the window of his office, the entire quarry was in view. What a drag it was to be dragged to his first assignment here. All he was assigned to do was oversee the laborers make sure they do not mess up and he was fine. If otherwise he might get scolded by some lower class asshole who happened to be in the military more than himself.

Stephan put his cigarette out in a silver ashtray on his desk, piles of documents scattered across his desk. "Fick Ich habe so viel verdammte Dokumenten zu suchen, bevor ich meine Runden zu machen." He muttered to himself. The time was approximately 9:30 am the sun was slightly sifting through the blinds of his office window as he lowered it after smoking his cigarette by the window. It was a rather mundane job but he was content for now, he was going to make a name for himself here. The young cocky SS-Untersturmführer got up merely after half an hour of work. He could no longer stand the stuffy office and decided to run his rounds early.

Lighting another cigarette as he walked out of his office, he was greeted by a few young privates who gave the 2nd lt. the Nazi salute as he passed by to which he returned proudly. "Sieg Heil" He said as he continued walking down the stairs towards the quarry grounds. Stephan among other Nazis is infamously known for his sheer love for malicious, brutal torture of POWs and undesirables that he could get his hands on. A man who beyond anything else is a true sadist. Outside, the weather was overcast, and there might be a storm perhaps, such a beautiful weather to kill someone in, he thought to himself.

Stephan could not help but smirk as he thought to himself how much the inmates here feared and loathed him like the plague, the look on inmates' faces when he passes to him is simply priceless. He forced all inmates to give him the Nazi salute as he passed or they are taken to his office where they would be brutally tortured to death, something he was given a free hand in. As he made his rounds, he made sure all was in order like clockwork. His icy cold gray eyes like that of a vulture looking for the slightest infraction.

In the distance he could see one of the soldiers having a conversation with one of the inmates. The first thought that came into his mind was to splatter the inmate's brain against the gravel and punish the soldier, however a moment or two he decided he was bored enough to play with the both of them for his own sick twisted pleasure. Approaching from behind the soldier he spoke in his harsh Berliner accent. "Sie scheinen es zu genießen Sie Ihre kleinen Plausch Soldat." His voice was dripping with menacing sarcasm. He turned to the inmate in said in a perfect accent as he lit a cigarette, his eyes boring into hers. "Good morning Fräulein, enjoying your day at our spa?" He blew a plume of smoke as he awaited for any one of them to respond, his right hand idly rested over his gun.

Translation: Fuck I have so many documents to look over before I make my rounds.

You seem to be enjoying your little chat soldier.

OOC: If you are bothered by my presence in your rp ignore this post and I will immediately deleted upon being notified.

[Casper Heniz]

Casper was about to try and speak back in his bad English when he heard footsteps and heard a voice behind him. ” "Sie scheinen es zu genießen Sie Ihre kleinen Plausch Soldat."” He seemed to be enjoying his little chat? Casper turned and saw the familiar face of Untersturmfuher Kaiser. A man who was hated by the men he knew. He was a dangerous man to be around him. Casper saluted sharply and then let his hand fall to his side. He felt stupid, how had Kaiser seen him talking to this blasted prisoner? The man had eyes like a hawk.

He stood watching Kaiser speak in English, not understanding a word he stood silent. He knew that Kaiser hated the inmates – the undesirables. If Kaiser found out what Casper was, then he’d be killed, or at least put into a camp. He had to show that he wasn’t what he had been....but how...he looked down at Kaiser’s hand...it was resting on his gun. Oh God. Casper then looked straight ahead, frantically thinking of what to say.

” Sir ... Sir .... Ich habe nur gefragt, warum dieser Häftling war nicht Ruhe und Rast - umm ... sicher, wir wollen sie nicht sich selbst zu töten ....” He hoped that it would be a good explanation. He had been told that soldiers were not to speak to the inmates but this one had caught his eye – she was different to the others. He had glanced at Kaiser as he had spoken and then looked straight again, wanting to leave now. He did not need a run in with one of the most feared soldiers in the camp.

Translations:
Sir...sir....I was just asking why this inmate was not stopping to rest - umm...surely, we do not want them killing themselves....

[Leeroy Atherton]

They were interrupted by another soldier as the young one began to speak. Leeroy knew him well; he was a vicious and cruel beast, his steely eyes menacing and hawk-like. He forced the inmates into all sorts of terrible conditions and positions, and made sure to humiliate them further by forcing them to salute as the Germans did. So far, Leeroy had escaped his attention, but now the youth's talking had drawn the wrong sort of attention. She continued to show no emotion on her face, still as soldier-straight and silent as ever when not being addressed.

After the cruel one spoke in German and the young one stammered back, he asked, smugly, "Good morning Fräulein, enjoying your day at our spa?" Leeroy shifted the bags under one arm, putting down one to raise it in a German salute. She secretly did not like doing it, but she would only survive if she adapted and continued to follow by example. Playing along with some of the man's quirks, in her head, would help ease the situation,

"Sieg Heil, Herr," she answered, "it be a vair day vor working." She then put down her arm and picked up the bag of gravel she had placed on the ground. "Can I bizt of azziztance to 'ee, Herr?" Again, her tone was respectful, cool, calm and collected. She treated him no different than any of her current captors, even if he was a madman.

[Rudolf Steiner]

Stephan was almost in pure ecstasy seeing the fearful look in the soldier's eyes. To him that was his sheer delight. However despite his horrid reputation amongst the inmates Stephan was also quite known in lavishing those rare ones he chose to surround him, as he is rather paranoid when it came to friendship. Stephan noticed the soldier looking down at his hand which was idly resting on the trigger. "Ich sehe dich wie mein Gewehr ... Ich bin etwas enttäuscht, Soldaten, gab die schmutzigen Untermenschen Schleim mir unsere grüßen, während Sie nicht? Gibt es in Ihrem Arm weh? Vielleicht, wenn ich spalten off es nicht mehr stören. Sie wagen es nicht, gib mir die grüße Sie Drecksau, wo die Untermenschen Greuel getan hat?" The last line was said through gritted teeth, a very menacing look in his eyes. Stephan regained his composure once more after lighting yet another cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke from his lips. Stephan mentally marked the young soldier in his head to keep an eye on him.

Stephan listened to the man's pleading argument as though a father listening on to his scolded son, nodding his head as he spoke, however when he replied still applying the scolding fatherly voice, "Ah ich sehe ... Na, dann nach Ihnen, geben Sie Befehle und Anordnungen, als ob ich nicht existent bin ... Ich bestellte die sub menschlichen Stück Scheiße zu blutigen Arbeit bis zum Umfallen für alles, was ich scheißegal!" Stephan dropped his cigarette on the floor, looked to the soldier and spoke in an extremely neutral tone, "abholen meine Zigarette." Stephan was going to wait until the soldier's hand was over the cigarette and was going to stomp on his hand attempting to crush his fingers.

Now that he was done with that little nuisance of a soldier, disciplining him in the least brutal manner in his books, it was time to move into the more interesting target. Something about her absolutely annoyed Stephan, the fact that she was not allowing him to bully her by showing any form of flaw as the soldier had done, she replied smartly and curtly. Stephan reverted back to his smooth, drawled English accent once more. "Well then tell me Fräulein, if it is a good day to be working why is it... That you are having some mundane pleasantries with this bumbling buffoon?" He was going to drag this longer until she finally messes up opening an opportunity for Stephan to torment her.

Translation: see you like my rifle... I am rather disappointed soldier, the filthy subhuman slime gave me our salute while you did not? Does your arm hurt? Perhaps if I cleave it off it will no longer bother you. You dare not give me the salute you filthy swine where the subhuman abomination did?"

Ah I see... Well then according to you, you give commands and orders as though I am non existent... I ordered those sub human pieces of shit to bloody work until they drop for all I fucking care

pick up my cigarette

[Casper Heniz]

He had completely forgotten the salute. It had completely slipped his mind. How could he have been so stupid?! He had just been so terrified of the officer that he complete forgot. Now he was paying the price of his mistake. What an idiot. He listened to Kaiser but kept looking straight ahead. He gripped his arm tighter as the brute spoke of cutting it off. He recoiled slightly as the brute called him a “filthy swine.” He did not look at the man otherwise not only fear but hatred would rise up in him quickly. What he said about the inmates was horrid but Casper, being Casper, said nothing back. He did not want to get into any more trouble then he no doubt was currently in.

He was then ordered to pick up the brute’s cigarette. Really?! Was the man that lazy or just liked watching other people do things for him? The attention of the brute had turned to the inmate, they were talking in English again, so Casper bent down and went to pick up the cigarette when suddenly he felt a sharp pain and saw that the man had stamped on his fingers and was crushing them beneath his boot. Casper yelled, struggling to free his fingers from underneath the boot whilst still holding the cigarette. He felt the pressure realise and stood up, nursing his now very sore fingers and glaring at Kaiser but saying nothing. He held out his undamaged fingers, the cigarette clutched in his hand and offered it to Kaiser.

Once he had done this, he began to slowly rub his fingers. They were red and had boot marks over the tops. They would be fine, but still...they hurt. He wondered if Kaiser would let him go. He hoped so as he wanted to get away and go and do something more constructive. In all honest he would rather be fighting than here, having to watch a load of unfortunate people having to work hard. He said nothing, his eyes flittering between the two and then finally coming to rest on a spot a few metres away, he looked straight ahead, not wanting to be the target again of another physical or emotional attack by the brute.

[Leeroy Atherton]

She felt sympathetic for the youth whose fingers had been crushed. She had an inkling as to what the cruel one was about to do, but she had not said anything. It wasn't as if anything was owed to the youth; he had interrupted her work, singled her out and brought her under the cruel one's eye. Leeroy was in no position to offer any "help", as she had no loyalty to the youth, and he was her jailer. What his superiors did with him was none of her business.

"Well then tell me Fräulein, if it is a good day to be working why is it.... That you are having some mundane pleasantries with this bumbling buffoon?" asked the cruel one. His voice was drawling and he was looking at her like she was another silly little girl. Let him think that, she would - she would continue to answer and wait patiently to be sent back to work. She was not stupid, nor was she one to panic and flail when the noose was around her neck.

"Herr," Leeroy began, "I was a-ztopped by the other good Herr because he waz a-wondering why I had not a-stopped working all morning. Unlike the otherz that be working, I bizt not tired, Herr. I have continued all morning to work because I be having much energy, and I do not wish to zlack off. Zo, I zaw no reazon to rezt, vor zhouldn't one only rest when their work be done, or when they be not able to work anymore?"

[Rudolf Steiner]

Stephan listened to the girl like a father listening to his daughter's explaining herself to him. All the meanwhile the soldier's hand was underneath his boot being crushed, his heel twisting back and forth violently, all the meanwhile giving the girl his undivided attention completely ignoring the man yelping in pain. It was rather hammy, he thought to himself that as soon as the soldier handed him his dropped cigarette, the girl ended. The soldier was writhing in pain. He was being rather very generous with his punishment today. Stephan inhaled then exhaled a line of smoke from his lips, which curled up in a sadistic smirk. The man should know how lucky he is, as Stephan has been quite infamously known in handing out vile, humiliating punishment to his own men. However the most thing that Stephan valued as a human is absolute discipline, him standing still receiving his just punishment is in fact a sign of some self discipline and that he will reward him with later.

" I see... So you obediently followed this corporal's orders... What a good girl you are." He reached out for her cheek with his gloved hand gently pushing her hair back from her cheek then shoved her away carelessly. "Oh! How I hate deceit it's pitiful!" She was really testing his patience and he was going to make an example of the pair right here in the quarry where they stood. Stephan looked out to the quarry as he spoke, his tone becoming chillingly icy and barren of human emotion. "Such a shame such a filthy subhuman bitch fell into my hands... I have half a mind to fucking rape right here." If his coy, manipulation of words was not going to make her scared of him he was going to rattle her out front. As he stated this, his barren gray eyes looked out to the quarry, smoking his cigarette. Stephan flicked his cigarette carelessly aside and as he was about to turn around and manhandle her shouts erupted a few yards ahead.

Stephan took the rifle off his back, loaded it and motioned for the soldier to follow, all the meanwhile a sick smile was etched upon his face. Stephan was the first to arrive on the scene a fight had broken out between two of the inmates. Stephan fired a single round into the air and both stopped the struggle immediately. Both slowly rose to their feet looking in sheer horror at Stephan who was held his rifle like a club without a word smacked the first in the mouth with the butt of the rifle causing spurts of blood to rupture from his mouth. The second looked in horror as he mumbled something in French before his stomach connected with Stephan's boot. Whilst on the floor Stephan stomped on his head laughing maniacally as he did. His eyes, usually devoid of any human emotion were now flickering with malice as his gaze turned to the inmate girl from before. He adjusted his gloved hand, his eyes turning barren once more.

[Casper Heniz]

Casper stood, rubbing his hand as the pain began to ebb away. He had no idea what the pair were saying to each other. The tone of Kaiser’s voice was that of mocking, and the girl of fear but with a slight dignity attached. He looked away as Kaiser went to stroke the cheek of the girl, he did not want to witness what he would potentially do to the inmate. It was Casper’s fault that they had been dragged into this situation. He had only wanted to help the girl but he had in-fact done the complete opposite.

A commotion then broke out a few yards away and Kaiser’s attention turned to it. He was ordering Casper to follow which he did directly, following close behind. He stopped a little way away from the fight that he saw ahead of him. As soon as Kaiser arrived the fight stopped. Next thing he knew, Casper saw blood everywhere – Kaiser had hit one of the inmates and blood came from his mouth; next thing the other inmate was on the ground and being stamped on. Casper turned away, trying to block out the screams from the inmate whilst his head was squashed even further into the ground. Please make him stop... he mentally thought. When he had a feeling it was over, Casper looked over at Kasier. The laugh had faded and he was looking at the girl with malice. Suddenly those eyes turned barren again.

Glancing around at the two inmates, both seemed okay but one was holding his head and the other his mouth. Casper wanted to go and help them, wanted to make sure they were alright but with the look of Kaiser, he thought that that would not be a good idea given the circumstances. He remained silence, his eyes not focusing on anything. He was waiting for his superior to say he could go....he didn’t want anything else to happen to him today...

[Leeroy Atherton]

Her expression might have faltered slightly, but only just before turning neutral again. She had stumbled back only slightly, quickly regaining her balance but a mere step away. He was not the first man to shove her, to belittle her, to mock her; being a doorman meant that all sorts of unsavoury characters had made remarks about her. Before then, there had been the village children of her youth, who had mocked her for being Romani and absolutely ripped her to shreds about it. She would not be afraid and she would not falter, especially in the presence of that miserable German monster.

She flinched at the sight of him butchering the unruly prisoners. Yet, she did not move, only averting her eyes out of respect for his victim. She moved them towards the youth, who looked fit to flee at any second. The cruel one must have been enjoying himself, taking lives and commanding others, ever controlling and ever sadistic. What was most disturbing to Leeroy, though, was his eyes - they were blank and stony, like he completely distanced himself from the acts he was doing. Yet when he injured the inmates, beating them as harshly as he did, he seemed so alive. Was he really as cruel was he was being, or had the war or another event driven him to be a madman?

He approached her again, the stony look back, that predatory evil in them flickering away into darkness. She was quiet still, but ready; should he try to move upon her, she would hurt him. Leeroy was not easily provoked, and she was fine with taking a couple of punches, but she'd rather be killed at the end of a rifle than let him take advantage of her so badly. She was not his plaything, no matter how much the cruel one thought he was the God of that quarry.

[Heiko Alkema]

Moderation Post

Atherton - 8CP

Heinz - 7CP

Kaiser - 5CP