One part brave, three parts foolish

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

It was the twenty first day of august, and an oddly muggy one at that. Edward had dawned his civilian garb to head out into the city and mingle, well sort of, that's the story he fed anyone that had asked anyway. In fact he was headed out to the Red Bull, a small cafe unnervingly close to the front lines. He had a meeting to attend with a very dear and close friend, Stephen Colly. They had been lucky enough to run into each other a while back in a barn out in nowhere, but this time were able to find a way to communicate back and forth about a secret meeting. McMillan wasn't too sure what they were to accomplish at such a meeting, but they would have to be very discreet about it since it would happen in plain view of the public. Ed still had his trusty knife and one of his overly powerful hand cannons in case he needed to duck out the back door quickly, but if he prayed he would have been doing so all morning to try and get what help he could to ensure it all went well.

Strolling down the sidewalk, or what was left of the cracked and crumbled parts of it, Edward casually smoked a cigarette, nodding to those that looked his way so as to not look too out of place. "Gutentag." he'd mutter every so often to passing civilians. They would nod back or return the greeting, but speaking in German wasn't exactly getting him any nice looks, after a block or so he switched back to English, maybe they would think he was some spy or resistance operative, whatever it took, his paranoia was through the roof, the likelihood that anyone was watching him was slim to none but he wasn't taking any chances, there were just too many factors that could mess this all up and land him dead in a ditch or in a prison cell.

The cafe was just out of view, on a perpendicular street it seemed some Wermacht soldiers were giving some shop keeper a hard time, nothing out of the ordinary, so long as they remained a safe distance Edward would be able to slip in completely unnoticed from anyone. He continued his stroll toward the cafe, he had made reservations two days prior to the scheduled meeting, one in the front part of the cafe and a second one in the back, more private area, he instructed the host to only instruct the other member of his party to sit at the front table, not mentioning the second. Ed would be waiting in the back, looking on from a semi dark and safe distance to make sure everything was alright before he would come out and join his companion.

As he walked int the door, about fifteen minutes early, he slowed up a bit passing the host and looked him seriously in the eyes, with a short nod he handed the man a small lump of money for his troubles, the man smiled and nodded back thankfully and confidently. Ed continued on, once reaching the back of the main dinning room he lightly sprang up the few steps that separated the front and rear areas of the cafe and took his seat in one of the rear most booths, lighting another cigarette off of his first and watching intently the front door. So long as no uniforms entered within the next thirty minutes or so this would be just another day, as far as anyone else was concerned.

[Stephen Colly]

The twenty first of August had come round quickly. It was a muggy evening, a mist hung low in the air as the British Tommy made his way along the road that led to The Red Bull.

He was wearing civilian clothing; brown pull-ups and a shirt which looked like it had just come from a day in the fields. He wore black shoes that were muddy and unclean. All these clothes were his own…they were so short of money back home that he had to wear his dirtiest as they may not look as strange. A peeked hat was on his head, covering his brown hair that was now flattened, a few pieces flopping on to his forehead a bit – he just looked like a young farmer walking towards a cafe for a good night out…

The road was quiet with only a few shouts from the night, the houses either side bore down on Stephen but he kept his gaze ahead, hands in pockets. He was here to meet a dear, dear friend – Edward McMillan…a dear friend and one who Stephen loved very much.

He had picked a number of French words and a few German ones so just in case he was asked to say something by someone then he knew the basics but hopefully that would not happen, it better not happen!

The cafe was getting closer and closer, the sign swinging in the light breeze that had picked up, the mist swirling around it. The warmth and light and glow from inside were beckoning the boy in as he came to the front door. A few people were out smoking some cigarettes, Stephen nodded to a few of them, taking off his peek hat and ruffling his hair to make it become not so flat.

The light from within was suddenly very bright and the boy squinted, his eyes adjusting finally for him to be able to look about him. It was pretty full, he couldn’t see Edward anywhere…
No, there he was - sitting right at the back in a dark corner, with a cigarette in his hand…typical Edward, always smoking. The boy stuffed his cap into his pocket and headed straight for the corner, smiling at a few people as he went.

He sprang up the steps that separated the café from the main dinning area and headed towards the man, a smile on his face.

He stopped a few yards away, was this really safe? It now was a bit late to say that but…but something was troubling Stephen and his face fell. He stared at Edward for a few seconds, with a slight frown but then his face relaxed and he sat down on a stool.

”Hello.” he waved a hand not really knowing how to greet his lost friend.

[∬: Erik Schneider]

The room was not the most beautiful, decorative, or luxurious but it would do. The Obersturmfuhrer's office in the makeshift headquarters was not much of his concern, as he sat half naked in the middle of the room. Resting his face in his palms, he struggled with a particularly annoying hangover from the previous night. It wasn't a wild night of drinking out of the town, but Schneider had managed to drink himself into a stupor within his own officer's quarters. The contents of each bottle of liquor was practically drained and various glasses were scattered across the room. Why he had done it or what had happened since, Schneider didn't recall. He lurched forward out of the wooden chair, which creaked as he did. The sudden change from a seated position to standing on his two feet disorientated the young officer and nearly set him tumbling back onto the ground . Wearing nothing but his trousers and socks, he desperately struggled regained his balance in the center of the room.

Figuring he should make some sort of appearance in the headquarters in town to show he was still alive, Schneider entered his own private bathroom. It was lacking and contained only the essentials, which was all he needed. Cold water poured out from the sink and cascaded onto his hands every few seconds, before he brought it up onto his face. The freezing water felt rejuvenating as it splashed against his face, cleansing it as much as it could. Shutting the water off, he still stood before the mirror as a wreck. His golden blond hair was askew, sticking out in all directions and his uniform was discarded all over the room. Sighing, he was recovering from the long, lonely night of drinking for the time being. The water was on again, this time slightly warmer. Soaking his hair, he cleaned the remnants of hair oil out from his head and prepared it for a second batch.

The process was quick and easy, as he worked his hair with a comb and applied some hair oil from a tin to comb it back into a respectable, simple hair style. At least, his appearance had improved and he didn't feel so disgusting filthy. Back into the main portion of his quarters, he gathered up his scattered clothes. The collarless, cotton white undershirt for officers was thrown on and buttoned up first. Next came his field grey tunic which was lightly decorated with awards and symbols of the 2nd SS Division "Das Reich". He would have preferred it if he had some awards to showcase on the tunic like the iron cross, but it was not to be. Applying an officer's trouser belt instead of suspenders, Schneider was now fully clothed. Throwing on some jackboots over his gray wool socks and donning his officer's peaked cap, he spent only a handful of minutes recovering from his hangover.

The twenty first of August. For some reason, the date was a bad taste in Schneider's mouth. Perhaps, it was because he had memories of his first weeks of school. How he dreaded returning to school, despite his overall success in school. He chuckled, now a grown man in the Waffen SS, recalling his days as a school boy. A few moments later, he was outside the headquarters and waiting on an escort. Climbing in the back of a Kubelwagen, the young private took off into the town. Extremely close to the front, it was dangerous to be venturing into the city. It was probable an attack would come before the start of fall or even winter, but then again, an attack could always come at any time or moment. There was business to take over and Schneider attended to. Reclining back into his seat, he relaxed and had his thoughts take over.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Edward looked on, enjoying his smoke as best he could, still keeping the paranoia at bay, but with little success. Ed was mostly watching out of the front windows, but was keeping an eye on the host, seemed the man was called for something or another, perfect timing, it happened. As soon as he stepped away Colly came into view through one of the front windows and rounded the entrance corner, pushing the door open slowly. With a quick glance around it seemed he spotted Ed and quickly approached, he seemed eager. What news could he be bringing? he thought as he took another slow drag from his stick of cancer. His idea had failed in a moment, no thought, no effort, and just like that they were sitting alone in the back of the cafe, although dimly lit, it was still rather odd to the rest of the occupants of the building.

"Hey Stephen, you look well." McMillan stated as Colly took a seat. Ed offered him a cigarette, placing the pack and the lighter onto the table in front of him, then taking the last remnant of the smoke hanging from his lip and crushing it into the brown ash tray at the edge of the table near the wall. Edward looked up to catch the eye of a waiter passing from the Kitchen to the dining area. He was thirsty, all his nerves twitching had dehydrated him a bit. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked Stephen as the waiter approached. He didn't really know what to say, maybe Colly was getting out of the war, maybe he was just playing dangerous games, maybe he was bringing intelligence, maybe this was nothing major at all. Whatever it was, it needed to be quiet and quick, this was now a lethal situation that could go awry at any moment. Ed grazed his hand over the back of his pistol to reassure himself that he was still armed, almost as if to reassure himself it was still there, the chances it dropped or was taken were non-existent, but he worried none the less, the hammer was still cocked.

Edward's stomach churned a bit Hungry too, well might as well enjoy this time, could be my last bit of freedom. He asked the waiter for an order of bread-sticks and a cup of juice, he probably needed a stiff drink for his nerves, but he wanted to remain sharp, even though that meant sweaty and worried. The chances Colly would be noticed by his men were slim to none, but the chances Ed would be noticed in a city with such a high concentration of German soldiers was great, far too great. Why didn't I change the location, this isn't right, something's up!" His thoughts raced as he looked around hurriedly. He tried his best to get a grip but something had him all twisted up, how did Colly spot him so easily, were there others watching. Ed knew that thoughts about such things would always be present when he met Colly.

As the waiter walked off with their order he leaned over the table a bit. "You know we can't keep doing this. It's going to eventually get one or both of us shot and killed." It was treason, no matter how you sliced it. It didn't matter the reasoning behind it. They were sworn enemies, and the best of friends. Anyone looking on from the outside would see this as completely unacceptable, even if was for just a cup of tea or a drinking contest. Uninvolved eyes say it as the deaths of friendly soldiers and that was enough to stir everything up. Course maybe Colly could play it off, they didn't know him. Time would tell.

OOC: To be honest Kitty, I always feel like robbing you, you always have a ton of CP

[Stephen Colly]

OOC – Tell me if you ever want some CP JT, its fine by me I don’t really need it.

”Hey Stephen, you look well.” was the first thing that the man said. Edward offered the boy a cigarette from the pack…the German pack, hesitating a fraction of a second he took one and grabbed the lighter from across the table, lighting the stick and blowing a puff of smoke out into the air, ”Thanks.” was all he said, making the lighter spin back to Edward.

”Would you like something to drink?”

”No, no thank you.” Stephen said quietly before the waiter was in ear shot to hear them speaking in English. Edward ordered something that Stephen did not understand; the waiter nodded and moved off with their order. It hadn’t occurred to Stephen until now, until he was in the café that this was a very dangerous thing to do…the whole idea of even contacting the enemy was unheard of in a friendly way…they were great friends, they always would be great friends.

Edward’s hand went down to his waist and Stephen watched the movement, spying a gun shape on his side…the man had brought a gun with him? To shot who? Stephen? Germans?

The boy looked down at the wooden table, putting some of the smoke in the ashtray and glancing around quickly before his gaze turned back to Edward. He had just caught the man looking around hurriedly, he looked slightly confused…Edward never looked confused, Edward was the one who was the leader but now seeing his friend so worried made Stephen worry too.

"You know we can't keep doing this. It's going to eventually get one or both of us shot and killed."

Edward leaned across the table and Stephen inhaled a sharp intake of breath but stayed calm, watching Edward. This indeed was treason…they would indeed be shot and killed.

”I’m not stupid Ed, I guessed that part.” Stephen muttered, ”But I just wanted to say, I’ve told the others, they know you’re alive, Brentwood went mad, shouting and saying he didn’t believe me…but I-I showed him that note you left in my journal and he understood…the case of “Edward McMillan” has been re-opened apparently.” Stephen shrugged slightly and looked down at the table, finding it very interesting.

”What's wrong Ed? You look uptight." Stephen said sharply, leaning closer and watching Edward intently, the table had got boring now.

[∬: Erik Schneider]

With the convertible roof up in its position over Schneider's head, the Obersturmfuhrer still didn't feel particularly safe in the Kubelwagen. In his childhood, he hadn't had the kindest memories with vehicles, but he had put that behind him. Still, the war did bring back painful memories as well as create a few new ones. From the rear of the vehicle, Schneider cautiously watched over the Schutze before leaning forward. "Ich vertraue, dass Sie meinen Aufträgen zum vollsten folgten?" The Obersturmfuhrer tone was inquisitive and the young, slightly nervous driver simply nodded. "Ja, Herr Obersturmfuhrer" was all Schneider needed to hear as he bent over in the crowded compartment. From under the seat he grasped a small box, hanging onto his cap as he lifted himself up from the floor. The box of twenty cigars obviously held marks of being made from Cuban or other Caribbean hands, quite obviously not the standard military issue. The first three cigars were gone, smoked some other time in the past.

The bundle of tobacco was much more enjoyable than your average cigarette, but much more expensive and harder to get your hands on for a truly good cigar. On the other hand, any ole cigarette was pleasing to Schneider and his body. Kicking the box back beneath the seat with the heel of his left foot, he jammed the Cuban cigar between his teeth while he rummaged through his tunic. The graceful, silver lighter flickered a flame of fire that lit up the cigar and gave way to puffs of smoke. Placing the lighter back into his pocket, he sucked on the head of the cigar with his lips to draw the smoke into his mouth, before exhaling it out the window. The odor of the cigar and the smoke spread relatively fast throughout the compact Kubelwagen and was sucked out into fresh air via the windows. With his right leg raised and placed over his left, Schneider leaned back in the seat and enjoyed the ride. It reminded him much of his father, who often enjoyed quality cigars much the same way as his son.

"Wir sind hier, Herr Obersturmfuhrer." Nearly fifteen minutes had passed and Erik glanced out the window to notice the Volkswagen had indeed stopped and was resting near the cafe. "Gutes gutes. Erlöschen Sie und amüsieren Sie sich ein wenig. Bleiben Sie nahe dem Kubelwagen zwar und seien Sie bereit zu gehen, wenn ich befehle." Schneider leaned forward and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he climbed out of the Kubelwagen. Slamming the door shut behind him, he bent over and pulled the cigar from his mouth. Making due with what he had, he rubbed the burning end of the cigar against the road to put the flames out. Tossing the bundle of tobacco back into his seat, he stepped forward and took a look at the "Red Bull Cafe". He had some "business" to tend do and straightened out his own uniform, before pushing open the entrance to the cafe.

The small cafe was packed with locals who were enjoying a drink or some food with friends. There were a few Wehrmacht soldiers in uniform scattered amongst the inn, but Schneider didn't care to take notice in them. Walking straight in and seating himself, the Waffen SS man got a few dirty looks when he turned his back. The Germans nor the SS weren't exactly a happy site when they invaded countries and occupied villages and cities, but they were far superior to such filth whether they realized it or not. Settling down into a chair at small two-person table in the middle of the room, Schneider's gaze washed over the room in search of anyone. He was facing the back of the cafe, able to see to the tables up against the wall. Straightening his back against his spine, he waited for his guest to arrive. There was a local who supposedly held information on resistance movements in the area and the positions of the Americans and British. So a meeting had been set up to see if he held such information... and then imprison him to truly find out everything. "Ein Tasse Kaffee, bitte. " The officer commanded to an employee, resuming his silent search.

Translations:

- "I trust you followed my orders to the fullest?"

- "We are here, Herr Obersturmfuhrer."

- "Good good. Go out and enjoy yourself a little. Stay near the Kubelwagen though and be ready to leave when I command."

- "A cup of coffee, please."

OOC: Kitty wanted me to come in now. I will edit it if you don't want me in the cafe yet, Jt. Also, why are you telling Kitty our plan to rob her!?!?

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Edward watched Colly's face as he spoke of talking with Liam, one of the best Allied officers in the entire war, but something held the man back, Edward never knew, people think the American Captain in the area knew, but it was probably all hyped up rumors anyway. Word going through the German lines was the man had broken his hand, Edward would ask to be sure. "The case...there was a case?" Ed laughed a bit, never a fan of paperwork and politics. "Well I can understand him being upset by such news, so long as he didn't berate you for saying such things then it's understandable. Heard he had a broken hand, any truth to this? I've heard countless reasons as to why it's broken from beating P.O.W.s to handling his personal business incorrectly, what have you heard?" Edward asked with a smile.

Colly said he looked uptight, and that was probably an understatement. Ed was almost to the point of completely losing it, then it got worse, horribly worse. An officer walked in, a German one, an SS one, there were many but it just so happened to be one that Ed had met about a month back, the lunger, man had lost a lung for a while after fighting the same American Captain that Liam had rumored to have told...something. Now he was sitting in the cafe, and was sitting with his back to the door, facing almost directly at Edward and Stephen. Why did he have his back to the door, something wasn't right, something was terribly terribly wrong, no SS man sits with their back to the door, maybe he was waiting on a higher official...Ed went white, pale white, every inch of color left his face. He had to think quickly, very quickly.

McMillan halfway got up from the table, leaning over. "If I'm not back in five minutes, you walk out that door, you don't look back, you don't look for me, you don't speak, you walk out that door and you keep walking, when it's clear..." Ed paused as he glanced up front once more, SHIT! Was that eye contact? Please god don't say he saw me! He turned back to Colly as calmly as possible to as not upset him even more. "...when it's-s c-clear, you run-n." he voice trembled like a leaf clinging to dear life on a bare limb in a storm, the one thing he fought for, what he put his life on the line for, he had just brought into the lion's den, and this lion never slept, never handed out mercy, for it was a lion was branded with a swastika on one side and an "SS" on the other, and right now they were sitting in the back of that den.

Ed stepped away from the table, pushing passed a waiter and ducked into the latrine. "Fuck me!" he muttered very quietly under his breath, there were no windows, wouldn't have mattered, there were a pair of Wermacht soldiers in there as well, climbing out would have created enough suspicion to kill the whole thing. He couldn't think, this was too horrible, what was supposed to be a nice quiet out of the way meeting had turned into a nightmare. Think damn it, what do you do?! Maybe he has to take a leak, maybe you could take him out when he walks in...NO...WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?!?! That's the worst idea, they would find out, I wouldn't make it a block before they shot me! Time was running short none the less, so he squared off with a urinal and tried to come up with something.

OOC: Kitty although that is a more then tempting offer, I don't think it would be looked at too kindly...unless we arranged another meeting and I pleaded with you to fund my crack addiction

[Stephen Colly]

Stephen smiled across the table at Edward as he spoke of Liam –

"The case...there was a case? Well I can understand him being upset by such news, so long as he didn't berate you for saying such things then it's understandable. Heard he had a broken hand, any truth to this? I've heard countless reasons as to why it's broken from beating P.O.W.s to handling his personal business incorrectly, what have you heard?"

”Yeah, there was a case apparently, and waved a gun above my head and licked me ear…he has really lost it…oh and his hand? I think it must have been when he banged his hand down on his desk when I told him, he did it quiet hard or he probably is the type to beat up P.O.W.s for no reason – “ his smile faded as he saw Edward’s face suddenly.

It was white.

Oh shit.

Edward now leaned across the table and Stephen saw sudden fear in his eyes – ”Ed.” his voice also trembled slightly.

"If I'm not back in five minutes, you walk out that door, you don't look back, you don't look for me, you don't speak, you walk out that door and you keep walking, when it's clear..."

A pause. ”B-But why Ed?” Stephen followed the man’s gaze around and saw a SS man sitting, his chair facing them…shit.

"...when it's-s c-clear, you run-n."

He had never seen Edward look and sound so frightened…this made Stephen equally more frightened, he nodded quickly, his mouth dry and un able to move a muscle. What was he to do? What….what?

Ed had disappeared into the latrine and Stephen felt suddenly very alone. There was no body to hide behind, there was just him and the table…and now the breadsticks and the juice that Ed had ordered which had just landed on the table. It was as if the room had gone very quiet. He kept his eyes on the table, shaking in side as he thought how dangerous it was being here. With a shaking hand he grabbed a breadstick and broke a bit off, biting and then swallowing it, which made him feel even worse. He grabbed the juice and sipped some of it; it made his mouth less dry now…well that was one good thing.

Where was Ed? Had it been five minutes since he had left? Glancing down at his watch he saw that no, it had only been a minute or so and the man’s eyes even though they weren’t looking at him, seemed to be staring into the back of his head like daggers.

[∬: Erik Schneider]

Folding the gray sleeve of his tunic up, he tapped the watch wrapped around his left wrist disappointingly. The bastard was late, but what else would you expect from such filth. They would make him rat out his people and their "saviors". If that was what the Americans and British considered them. His head was cocked to the right, heavily focused on the door when he realized his honored guest wasn't awaiting him at the table as expected. Tired of it, he turned back to face the rear of the room, awaiting his cup of coffee. That was when it happened. A rather bulky man dressed in civilian clothing stood up from his table. The two clumsily made eye contact for a split second and Schneider swore he remembered the man's face from somewhere. The contact was ignored whether intentional or not and the man was discussing something with his younger, boyish companion before hurriedly rushing off for the bathroom. Schneider chuckled at the thought that the man merely had to empty his bladder, but then it occurred to him.

He had been looking into the eyes of Edward McMillan. An Irish man who had left behind his countrymen and through connections with Sturmbannfuhrer Wolfram, become Sturmscharführer in the 2nd SS Panzer Division. The lowest of the low to have ever served in the Waffen-SS. What was he doing here? Had he been assigned the Obersturmfuhrer's task instead? Is that why he was commingling with the civilians? No, such a thing could have never happened. Glancing at the nervous, he didn't look like a local. This must have been an informant. Edward McMillan must be a spy. Of course! The chair scraped back against the wooden floor, as he rose to his feet. Crossing through the center of the room, he gave the boy at McMillan's table a suspicious glare, before vanishing into the washroom.

Two Wehrmacht soldiers already occupied the washroom, simply lingering around for no reason. They straightened up and saluted the officer, who merely waved for them to put their hands down. This was not the time or place for such a trivial matter, as Schneider glanced over at the Irish giant trying to look as normal as possible as he pissed away into a urinal. Staring the man down like a hawk, he knew it was the same Irish SS man that Schneider knew. While the man tried to formulate a plan before the urinal, the Obersturmfuhrer would take control of the situation. He unbuttoned his Luger pistol's holster and grasped the cold handle of the weapon, but simply held it facing the ground. There was no need to scare the man into doing something irrational."Sie! Schützen Sie die Tür. Stellen Sie sicher, dass niemand innen oder herauskommt. Sie! Suchen Sie dass Mann nach allen möglichen Waffen und stellen Sie sicher, dass er nichts versucht. Verstanden?" The two soldiers grabbed their rifles and headed off their separate ways. As ordered, one guarded the only exit while the other set his rifle well away from McMillan and searched him.

"Geehrter Herr, fand ich eine amerikanische Pistole auf dem Mann. Was soll ich mit ihm tun? " The Wehrmacht Corporal reported, eying the man as he backed up to hand his superior the pistol. Schneider grabbed a hold of the pistol and pulled out the clip of ammo, pocketing it. The weapon clattered against the sink as he tossed it in. Soon the Corporal was holding his Kar 98 rifle firmly, as Schneider approached McMillan and began to eye him suspiciously. "Sturmscharführer McMillan, die Sorgfalt, zum zu erklären, was Sie hier tun, kleidete in der Zivilkleidung an, die mit den heimischen sich verbrüdert? Ich nicht genau halte viel Vertrauen in Ihnen und es entkräftet, um solche Tätigkeiten zu sehen. " Under normal circumstances, maybe a German soldier wishing for a night out without receiving bitter hate would don civilian clothes. However, this was a man who had already become known as a traitor that was doing such. The circumstances were different as he suddenly became the victim of an interrogation in a cafe washroom.

- "You! Guard the door. Make sure no one comes in or out. You! Search that man for any weapons and make sure he does not try anything. Understood?"

- "Sir, I found an American pistol on the man. What shall I do with it?"

- "Sturmscharführer McMillan, care to explain what you are doing here dressed in civilian clothes fraternizing with the locals? I do not exactly hold much trust in you and it is unnerving to see such actions."

OOC: Bit of god modding there. You are trapped in the washroom with three German soldiers. Course I'm going to take your precious gun away. For now though, you can work your way out of this.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

McMillan tried to think as fast as he could, seemed he would have less time than anticipated. He heard the door behind him open and a few sets of footsteps. Then an all to distinctive snap, if human ears could perk, his just did. A firearm had just been brought into play. He listened on as it sounded like he was about to be arrested, but for what, being out of uniform? As Edward reached for his zipper a hand came around from behind and without thinking he spun abruptly, planting an elbow on the side of the man's head, he at least figured they would let him finish up, was just a normal reaction, hopefully it wouldn't get him killed. He closed his eyes for a moment and nodded his head with his arms out to the side, palms out as if to silently say "my mistake, no harm intended."

The Private searched him, pulling his pistol from it's roost and handing it off to the Lieutenant, with a quick glance the man tossed it into the sink which was luckily dry at the moment. Then the Lieutenant spoke up, it's what was to be expected, the clothes, the lack of trust, the locals, the whole thing, of course it looked bad, McMillan knew it did, but proof, there was none. "Aussehen, ich wissen, dass Sie mich nicht mögen, aber dies ist die Waffe..." he started as he slowly stepped over to the sink where his hand cannon rested peacfully. He reached in to grab it just as slowly to not arise any bad reactions. "...I hatte vier von meinen eigenen Männern getötet, meine Untertanenpflicht zu Wolfram zu beweisen, ob das gut genug für Sie ist, oder wird keine Angelegenheit von meinem, es gut genug für unseren befehlenden Offizier, und ich verdammt nicht werden ist war, wenn irgendjemand es von mir wieder nimmt." He finished his statement as he grasped the pistol and slowly placed back into it's hand crafted holster.

Edward washed his hands and turned to face the man whilst drying them off on a few papertowels. He reached under his shirt from the top and pulled out the ring, the precious ring that was bestowed upon him by Wolfram himself, held it up eye level for Erik to see and placed it back in safe keeping. "Außerdem wenn ich war bis zu nein gut ich Darm hätte, den Sie einen Fisch statt Erlaubens Sie mögen, den Tropfen auf mir zu erhalten, und Sie kennen es. ..sir." he said softly as he lifted his shirt from the bottom to reveal his blade that the Private missed.

Ed finally decided to show an inkling of respect to the seemingly over eager lunger. "Was denken Sie, dass ich hier Herrn mache? Ich sammle Intelligenz, jenes ist wirklich so hart zu verstehen? Wir sind von der gleichen Einheit und noch wir sind beide hier, in diesem Café, damit entfernt vom zugeteilten Gebiet unserer Einheit von Patrouille. ..that und sie wirklich nette stangenförmige Gebäcke aus Brotteig haben." McMillan stated, sounded believable enough, and it needed to be, no one would believe the actual reason for the meeting. "Jetzt, wie um Sie drei Monate von Vorbereitung nicht blasen, und planend und versuchen wir und machen Sie es aussieht, wie nichts hier drinnen geschehen ist." and with that he started to move toward the door, hopefully his words would sink in deep enough and he would make it out of the door.



TRANSLATIONS:
Aussehen, ich wissen, dass Sie mich nicht mögen, aber dies ist die Waffe...
Look, I know you don't like me, but this is the weapon...

...I hatte vier von meinen eigenen Männern getötet, meine Untertanenpflicht zu Wolfram zu beweisen, ob das gut genug für Sie ist, oder wird keine Angelegenheit von meinem, es gut genug für unseren befehlenden Offizier, und ich verdammt nicht werden ist war, wenn irgendjemand es von mir wieder nimmt.
...I used to kill four of my own men to prove my allegiance to Wolfram, whether that's good enough for you or not is no concern of mine, it was good enough for our commanding officer, and I'll be damned if anyone takes it from me again.

Außerdem wenn ich war bis zu nein gut ich Darm hätte, den Sie einen Fisch statt Erlaubens Sie mögen, den Tropfen auf mir zu erhalten, und Sie kennen es. ..sir.
Besides, if I was up to no good I would have gut you like a fish instead of allowing you to get the drop on me, and you know it...sir.

Was denken Sie, dass ich hier Herrn mache? Ich sammle Intelligenz, jenes ist wirklich so hart zu verstehen? Wir sind von der gleichen Einheit und noch wir sind beide hier, in diesem Café, damit entfernt vom zugeteilten Gebiet unserer Einheit von Patrouille. ..that und sie wirklich nette stangenförmige Gebäcke aus Brotteig haben.
What do you think I'm doing here sir? I'm gathering intelligence, is that really so hard to fathom? We are from the same unit and yet we are both here, in this cafe, so far away from our unit's assigned area of patrol...that and they have really nice breadsticks.

Jetzt, wie um Sie drei Monate von Vorbereitung nicht blasen, und planend und versuchen wir und machen Sie es aussieht, wie nichts hier drinnen geschehen ist.
Now how about you don't blow three months of preparation and planning and let's try and make it look like nothing happened in here.

[∬: Erik Schneider]

Things did not quite go according to plan. The situation worsened as the Wehrmacht Corporal got hasty and grabbed the bulky Irish man while he was still finishing up in the urinal. As a natural reaction, McMillan brought his elbow back into the Corporal's face, sending the poor boy stumbling backwards. He collapsed up against the opposite wall of the washroom, gripping the side of his head as if in intense pain. He muffled his cries into his forearm, hoping to not catch wind of any disrespect from either of his superiors. Schneider's inquisitive eyes took in the site of the injured boy, believing to see what appeared to be blood. He shrugged and knew it was no actual threat. If it had been, Schneider would probably be already dead by now. Or at least fending off a vicious Irish attacker. Instead, the large man backed up a bit and raised his hands up to his side with his palms out. The universal sign to mean that he would cooperate.

Soon enough, the man was indeed cooperating as the disorientated soldier found the American pistol hidden within the civilian clothes. "Aussehen, ich wissen, dass Sie mich nicht mögen, aber dies ist die Waffe... I hatte vier von meinen eigenen Männern getötet, meine Untertanenpflicht zu Wolfram zu beweisen, ob das gut genug für Sie ist, oder wird keine Angelegenheit von meinem, es gut genug für unseren befehlenden Offizier, und ich verdammt nicht werden ist war, wenn irgendjemand es von mir wieder nimmt." The bulky Irish man explained slowly, as he eased his hands into the sink to claim this precious pistol. An action that could have gotten him killed, but nonetheless Schneider allowed it. The man was right in his doing, knowing that the Obersturmfuhrer had no proof to hold such against the man who had apparently proved his loyalty to the Sturmbannfuhrer. Even though it was suspicious enough to make him want to shoot McMillan dead.

As if nothing had happened at all, the Sturmscharfuhrer continued to wash his hands clean after finishing up in the urinal and wiped them dry. All the while, a nervous Private eyed him from the door while the Corporal tried to avoid contact with the man all together. Reaching into his shirt to pull out a ring around his neck, made the Wehrmacht soldier stationed at the door cower slightly. He raised his rifle for the enormous torso, an easy shot, before loosening up and letting his arms go limp. He had misunderstood the man's actions, which was not surprising. Schneider watched as the man taunted him with threats, exposing a hidden knife beneath his shirt that the Corporal had not been able to discover. Such arrogance. Schneider grinned slightly though, knowing that every word of it was true. Perhaps, McMillan wasn't up to no good... or perhaps he was a good liar. He slid past his superior like a snake, making it as far as the door where the nervous Private glanced at the Obersturmfuhrer for orders.

"Jetzt, wie um Sie drei Monate von Vorbereitung nicht blasen, und planend und versuchen wir und machen Sie es aussieht, wie nichts hier drinnen geschehen ist. " Pausing at the door, it was clear the situation was depending on a final word from the Obersturmfuhrer. Jamming his Luger back into his holster, he buttoned it back up intently and glanced at McMillan. "Drei Monate der Planung und der Vorbereitung, sagen Sie? Quellen die einzige Weise, die möglich ist, ist hervor, wenn es der Mann ist, den ich annehme, um unter Anhalten zu setzen bin. Intrigierung, dass Sie hier außerdem gesendet würden, Sturmscharfuhrer." Schneider grinned slightly, buying into the other man's words for now. At least, until it was proven to him. Perhaps, the two had been assigned the same task by mistake. Or maybe, McMillan was acting as a bit of an undercover agent while Schneider was meant to bring the bastard in for interrogation.

The Private was confused on what to do as the situation had now met a standstill. The Sturmscharfuhrer was anxious to get out of the washroom, while the Oberstrurmfuhrer was halting any such action. Schneider flicked his wrist as if to tell the moron to get out of the way and the young soldier obliged, moving away from both men and keeping his distance. The Corporal who had become a victim to McMillan's assault, was examining the damage done to him in the mirror. "Drei Monate der Planung und der Vorbereitung, sagen Sie? Quellen die einzige Weise, die möglich ist, ist hervor, wenn es der Mann ist, den ich annehme, um unter Anhalten zu setzen bin. Intrigierung, dass Sie hier außerdem gesendet würden, Sturmscharfuhrer." The Obersturmfuhrer spoke, his tone inquisitive as he approached the Strumscharfuhrer and the washroom's exit.

Translations:

- "Three months of planning and preparation, you say? Well the only way that is possible, is if it is the man I am suppose to place under arrest. Intriguing that you would be sent here as well, Sturmscharfuhrer."

- "Now, Sturmscharfuhrer, you seem to be the one who knows the target. Is he ready to be taken? My orders are to bring him in for interrogation, to milk him for intelligence. Unless, you have other orders?"

[Stephen Colly]

So. This was how Stephen was to spend these precious few minutes with Ed. Sitting alone at a table whist the man he loved was in trouble. The glare on the Nazi officer’s face was like thunder as he went into the latrines that Ed had just entered.

The soft mummer of a foreign language was all around him and it made him feel sleepy, even though he was shitting his pants at the idea of Ed being in some sort of trouble, the voices calmed him. He glanced at the door that had just swung closed, what was happening in there? Should he go in? Should he stay away? He didn’t speak German very well if not at all and so talking wouldn’t be much use.

A waiter had approached his table and was speaking to him but Stephen was too intent on watching the door that the man had to tap him on the shoulder and with a slight jump of surprise, Stephen turned to face the German waiter. What had he just said? Oh shit.

He thought quickly, if the man had asked if Stephen wanted more then he would shake his head and say “Nein.” if the man had asked something else completely different then he would still shake his head. So, shaking his head and saying ”Nein.” to the man, he turned back to watching the door which still was showing no signs of opening.

The cigarette that Ed had given him was still lying propped up on the ash-tray. He hadn’t realized it was still there. Grabbing it with one hand, he took a long drag, blowing the smoke from his mouth, still watching the door.

The minutes on his clock ticked slowly, painfully slow it seemed. Come on Ed, where are you? Come back! he thought desperately, this was not what he had wanted or planned. He had thought that they would just have a nice chat at the back of the café where no one would look and then Stephen would be on his way back to the front lines. But now, he was on his own, a complete stranger…an enemy of Germany in Occupied France…oh this couldn’t get any worse!

OOC - I just posted in here to tell you that Stephen is still sitting, not realizing what is going on! Hope you don't mind!

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

The situation quickly turned into another 'think fast' moment, his BS seemed to have worked so far, maybe a bit more could see Colly and himself out of a jam. Maybe it would see them dead in the streets. McMillan turned back to the officer and brought a hand toward his face, placing a single finger on his chin. "Hmmm, gut überreicht dass eine Ausgabe. Ich war zu nicht gewahr, dass wir hier für den gleichen Informantenherrn waren. Ich war erzählt worden zu erlauben, dass der Mann, den einer zuletzt zurück zu den Linien wagt, damit wir die Intelligenz versichern könnten, die er uns zuführte, waren acurate, an einem Punkt sie haben sogar über die Idee von mir nachgedacht, den ihn begleitet, aber ich habe stark die Idee widerstanden, haben sie nach kurzem Gedanken übereingestimmt. Dann auf seiner Rückkehr war, eingebracht zu werden." Edwardbegan to feel hot, his temperature was rising at the thought of Colly being taken in by the 2nd SS, the things they would do to make him talk were horrid, well at least to be done upon him, he was a good soul, Ed couldn't bear the thought, but he had to play it as smoothly as possible, Make it look like your involvement was strictly by order and nothing else. he thought before he continued on.

"Ihre Reihenfolgen würden supercede abbaut Herrn, aber ich glaube, dass wir könnten gewinnen ein besseres Verständnis wovon er bereit ist, uns zu erzählen, wenn wir ihn schneiden, löst diesmal, mehr Informationen zu sammeln. Aber wir sind im Feld, dies ist Ihr Rufherr. Ich gab nur Ihnen meine Meinung, als Sie gefragt haben." He couldn't believe this, as far as Ed was concerned it didn't get any worse than this, feeding your closest friend to the wolves, he could barely stand it. "Herr, ich versuchen nicht, Ideen in Ihren Kopf zu stellen, oder irgendetwas hier aufzuheben, aber ich würde hassen zu sehen, dass die ganze Planung und die Vorbereitung in dieses nur für uns gehen, einbringen ihn, bevor er etwas von Wert hat. Obwohl dies ist gewesen in Entwicklung für drei Monate, dies ist der zweite Generationinformant für die Aufgabe, das erste wurde getötet vor weniger als einem Monat, der einzige Grund wir diesen Mann ist haben, weil der erste Bursche hat geredet und dies Ein hat gefunden seinen Notizen und uns zu in Drehungsfund helfen wollte, aus was zu seinem Gefährten geschehen ist." Edward took a semi deep breath and swallowed, he gave it his best shot without trying to make it look over done, but it all reasted in the Officer's hands now.




TRANSLATIONS:

Hmmm, gut überreicht dass eine Ausgabe. Ich war zu nicht gewahr, dass wir hier für den gleichen Informantenherrn waren. Ich war erzählt worden zu erlauben, dass der Mann, den einer zuletzt zurück zu den Linien wagt, damit wir die Intelligenz versichern könnten, die er uns zuführte, waren acurate, an einem Punkt sie haben sogar über die Idee von mir nachgedacht, den ihn begleitet, aber ich habe stark die Idee widerstanden, haben sie nach kurzem Gedanken übereingestimmt. Dann auf seiner Rückkehr war, eingebracht zu werden.
Hmmm, well that does present an issue. I too was unaware that we were here for the same informant sir. I had been told to allow the man one last venture back to the lines so that we could insure the intelligence he was feeding us was acurate, at one point they even pondered the idea of me accompanying him, but I strongly resisted the idea, they agreed after short thought. Then on his return was to be brought in.

Ihre Reihenfolgen würden supercede abbaut Herrn, aber ich glaube, dass wir könnten gewinnen ein besseres Verständnis wovon er bereit ist, uns zu erzählen, wenn wir ihn schneiden, löst diesmal, mehr Informationen zu sammeln. Aber wir sind im Feld, dies ist Ihr Rufherr. Ich gab nur Ihnen meine Meinung, als Sie gefragt haben.
Your orders would supercede mine sir, but I believe we could gain a better understanding of what he is willing to tell us if we cut him loose this time to gather more information. But we are in the field, this is your call sir. I was only giving you my opinion as you asked.

Herr, ich versuchen nicht, Ideen in Ihren Kopf zu stellen, oder irgendetwas hier aufzuheben, aber ich würde hassen zu sehen, dass die ganze Planung und die Vorbereitung in dieses nur für uns gehen, einbringen ihn, bevor er etwas von Wert hat. Obwohl dies ist gewesen in Entwicklung für drei Monate, dies ist der zweite Generationinformant für die Aufgabe, das erste wurde getötet vor weniger als einem Monat, der einzige Grund wir diesen Mann ist haben, weil der erste Bursche hat geredet und dies Ein hat gefunden seinen Notizen und uns zu in Drehungsfund helfen wollte, aus was zu seinem Gefährten geschehen ist.
Sir, I'm not trying to put ideas in your head or overrule anything here, but I would hate to see all the planning and preparation go into this only for us to bring him in before he has something of value. Although this has been in development for three months, this is the second generation informant for the task, the first was killed less than one month ago, the only reason we have this man is because the first guy talked and this one found his notes and wanted to assist us to in turn find out what happened to his companion.

[∬: Erik Schneider]

The information that Schneider wanted to hear was spoken as the two men stood only steps away from the door. There was indeed an informant that McMillan was speaking with and it would appear to be the same man. "Herr, ich versuchen nicht, Ideen in Ihren Kopf zu stellen, oder irgendetwas hier aufzuheben, aber ich würde hassen zu sehen, dass die ganze Planung und die Vorbereitung in dieses nur für uns gehen, einbringen ihn, bevor er etwas von Wert hat. Obwohl dies ist gewesen in Entwicklung für drei Monate, dies ist der zweite Generationinformant für die Aufgabe, das erste wurde getötet vor weniger als einem Monat, der einzige Grund wir diesen Mann ist haben, weil der erste Bursche hat geredet und dies Ein hat gefunden seinen Notizen und uns zu in Drehungsfund helfen wollte, aus was zu seinem Gefährten geschehen ist. "

It would seem otherwise, however. As if the Sturmschafuhrer was deliberately attempting for the Obersturmfuhrer to let the man go. That they should see if his information is worth anything. Schneider had strict orders that there was to be an informant in this cafe at this time and that he was meant to place him under arrest in order to gain said information. Second generation informant or not, the Obersturmfuhrer had already made a decision long before he heard the slightly accented German words coming from the Irish man's mouth. Slipping his Luger back out from his holster, it was quite clear what that decision was. Even for the Corporal, who looked like he was going to vomit into the sink any second now. "Zweites Erzeugung oder nicht, wurde ich bestellt, einen Berichterstatter in diesen Kaffee unter Anhalten für Befragung zu legen. Wie können wir sicher sein, dass dieses nicht ein Spion ist und versucht, herauszufinden, was wir berücksichtigen?"

"Die des Auftrages Standplätze noch, Sturmscharfuhrer. Das Beste, das wir jetzt tun können, ist beten, dass dieser Mann das Wissen sogar meine Vorgesetzten wünschen lässt und dass er spricht. Und Gespräch, das er soll." Schneider murmured, cocking the luger pistol to emphasize "talk he shall". His glassy eyes passed over McMillan's shoulder, to the two Wehrmacht men in the room. Infidels. The blow to the head must of caused a terrible headache, as the Corporal was gripping his head profusely and looking as if he was going to heave. The nervous Private was assuring him from his side, letting his rifle rest up against the wall. Schneider grimaced as he realized that these two buffoons would be the ones assisting him today. "McMillan und Sie dort, Soldat. Follow-me und stellen sicher, dass er nicht läuft. Wenn Sie zusammen dich ziehen können, kommen Obergefreites, mit uns."

Not waiting for a reply from any of the three men, Schneider signaled them to move and pushed the door open. There was a slight surprise, but the locals had grown use to the German soldiers. Even as the Waffen SS man lead the soldiers out of the bathroom with his luger firmly in his hand, they ignored it and returned to their meals and conversations. No one wanted to get involved in the SS business and pretended as if they had no idea what was going on. The private emerged from the bathroom last, holding his loaded Kar 98 rifle in his arms. If anything, everyone in the room knew what was going to go down. Or at least, the gist of it. Trouble. The Obersturmfuhrer lead the trio of men through the crowded tables, directly at Colly. With the rifleman in tow, there was no way for the informant seated at the table to make a run for it. All hope was lost for the boy now, as the armed German soldiers reached his table.

Schneider had memorized what the man looked like and where he was seated with his cold, hard glare. He raised his luger to the side of the man's head calmly, bringing his palm down in level with his eyes. Curling his fingers up, he told the man to stand up with his hands and kept the loaded pistol up against his temple while he raised from his chair. "Unter Aufträgen des Waffen SS, lege ich Sie hiermit unter Anhalten für treasonous Tätigkeiten und die Möglichkeit des Funktionierens in eine Tat von Spionage. Sie arbeiten zusammen oder erleiden die Konsequenzen." The Obersturmfuhrer ordered coldly, digging the barrel of the pistol further into the man's head to symbolize that he meant every word of it. Reaching into a pocket with his left hand, he came upon a pair of Gestapo hand cuffs to be used on the man's hands. Preoccupied with shoving a gun up against the man's head, Schneider dangled them behind him for McMillan to put on. It was only fitting that he would do the honors for his informant.

Translations:

- "Second generation or not, I was ordered to place an informant in this cafe under arrest for interrogation. How can we be sure that this one is not a spy, trying to find out what we are aware of?"

- "The order still stands, Sturmscharfuhrer. The best we can do now is pray that this man has the knowledge even my superiors want and that he will talk. And talk he shall."

- "McMillan and you there, soldier. Follow me and make sure he does not run. If you can pull yourself together, corporal, come with us."

- "Under orders of the Waffen SS, I hereby place you under arrest for treasonous actions and the possibility of operating in an act of espionage. You will cooperate or suffer the consequences."

OOC: Plot twist. McMillan has to put the cuffs on!

[Stephen Colly]

The cigarette was fading fast so Stephen decided that he better put it out so he wouldn’t get his hands burnt. He did this, staring at the little cloud of smoke that now rose from the crushed cigarette. Where was Ed? Why wasn’t he back yet?

The door to the latrines had opened and Stephen’s head shot up. But then looked back down at the table in horror. The evil looking bastard who had been staring at them earlier was coming straight towards his own table, with two other Nazi men and then Edward…what?

Stephen started to panic, he thought about getting up and just leaving but no sooner had he thought thus when he felt a cold hard piece of metal against his head…a gun…well, this position of the gun being held at this level wasn’t unusual for Liam Brentwood had done it but the difference here was that this man wasn’t Liam Brentwood and an Allied officer, this man was a member of the SS or whatever they called themselves and this man could kill.

A hand covered his eyes, sending his vision into darkness, a loud German voice sounded near by, saying something in a foreign tongue that Stephen did not understand.

This was it…he had heard stories about people being taken by the Nazis and being tortured and now he was going to join them, he hadn’t done anything wrong…how did they know who he was? Had Ed told them? No…Ed wouldn’t have…the barrel of the gun was pushed further in to his head and he stumbled slightly, putting his hands up above his head to point out that he wasn’t going to fight or try to run away, they shook slightly as he heard handcuffs being pulled from someone’s pocket.