Post by Rolf Jäger on Dec 31, 2010 3:16:08 GMT
Nightmares often held a strange quality to them; the pastoral scene became oppressing without any visible reason, one's feet turned as heavy as lead when making an escape and the people closest to you were always the ones to betray you, adopting such cruelty and viciousness as to render the dreamer demoralized even after the last traces of the dream had already dissipated, the horrific images still stubbornly drawing shaky breaths in a world that was not their own. Rolf had thought that he was as awake as a person could be, but he was now quickly succumbing into a twisted reality of sharp sounds passing through the thick, almost unbreathable air, a female demoness looming in front of him, her appearance enticing while her core pulsed rotten and treacherous. Her insult was expected and lost on Rolf, but the laughs it roused from the soldiers gathered around them caused the man's grey eyes to darken with hatred and offense; they had no right giggling at him, moronic cretins that they were, but Rolf had no time to focus on such idle things now. When he pulled the tunic over the woman's shoulders to cover her pale skin from the hungry, prying eyes of the crowd, she laughed drunkenly, as if she found his gesture the most ridiculous thing in the world. Rolf could smell the reek of alcohol in her breath and recognize the haze of intoxication drawn over her emerald irises, her painted lips shining blood-red against her pale skin, both inviting and sickening at the same time. She told him that this was not enough, while Rolf did not even wish to start guessing what more she could have possibly had in mind, and then her hands settled against his chest, just to strongly push him away.
The Hauptmann's back collided against the wall of soldiers standing behind him and when the man attempted to grasp at the fleeting figure of the dark-haired woman, she had already stepped out of his reach, discarding the Hauptmann's tunic, the mass of uniforms closing in around her like the hungry maws of a giant beast. Rolf felt someone pushing him away and he stumbled forward, trying to change that movement into one that would bring him closer to Riedel once more, but the way was hopelessly blocked by the crowd, all of the men eager to witness whatever antics the woman was going to entertain them with next. A low, irritated growl escaped from between Rolf's gritted teeth and he merely stared past the heads and shoulders of the other men, spotting Riedel just in time to see her rubbing her body against one the soldiers, the image drawing a feral sneer across his lips. She allowed the elated young soldier her attention only for a brief moment before moving on to the next one, her hand traveling enticingly over the neck of the grinning man. Rolf wanted to stop it with a desperation that felt completely foreign to him and he tried to pry open a gap in the crowd, growling angry commands at the drunken soldiers standing in front of him, but they were far too intoxicated and spellbound to make note of his rank and - as it soon dawned to him - even of his presence. He could only stand imprisoned in that spot, in the midst of the sea of noise and depravity that wanted to infect him with its disease, while the woman danced nimbly among her greedy admirers, their eager hands tracing paths upon her body whenever they were presented with this tempting opportunity.
How Rolf wished he could have snapped broken the bones of those filthy paws, changed the happy laughs and mirthful whoops into screams of terror and agony while he stood triumphant and proud above them, a hunter snarling bloodied and unyielding next to the bodies of those that had dared to challenge him. The image filled him with a raw, feral power that sparked in his eyes, now staring at the woman's figure as she was helped on top of the table, the crowd in front of the man still preventing him from reaching her. Her eyes found his through the cigarette smoke, the straps of her brassiere torn down by the hands of the soldiers and as Rolf delved deeper into those emerald irises, he could not find Riedel, witnessing only some poisonous emptiness that existed within her instead. There was ferocity in that glance, but even then it was only a pale mockery, some treacherous taint having twisted even her anger into something perverse and macabre. Rolf was not a person inclined to believe in anything supernatural, but at that moment he felt as if some foul spirit had taken over Riedel's body, now pulling her along to a diabolical song, a mere puppet in the hands of some wicked monstrosity. She closed her eyes, breaking off the brief eye-contact and Rolf could only see her reclining her foot, one after the other, on someone's shoulder or hand, the crowd preventing him from witnessing the details. She procured a tobacco roll from her desirous audience, standing upon the table for the all the world to see, for each one of them to witness the full extent of her despicable state.
When those ever hungry hands of the men reached towards her thighs to pull of the thin, black tights, Rolf felt physically sick and while he hoped he could have averted his eyes from the sight, he could not, his grey eyes merely widening at the sight while his breathing became shallow from anger and disgust. More of her pale skin was revealed for the crowd to enjoy and then someone already climbed upon the table, Riedel pushing her own frame against his while the soldier's hands traveled eagerly along the smooth desert of her skin, more hands reaching towards her from the crowd. Surely it was a living, breathing vision from the very depths of Hell itself; the doomed souls attempted to claim the succubus as their own, eagerly bathing in the various sins and vices they had succumbed into and they worshipped her in all of her provocative and corrupt essence, each one of them hoping to be the one to get chosen by the demon and be dragged into whatever infernal fate she had in store for them. It would scorch them and destroy them, but they would accept this punishment gladly just to run their fingers along her burning skin, to drink in the sweet sin she was drenched with, sacrificing their battered and weak bodies to her ensanguined altar. Another cursed soul climbed upon the fetid shrine, lashing a leather belt towards the demoness and allowing it to curl around her form just to draw her close, while she was ever dancing, continuously grinding her hips to the wild tunes of the music bouncing from the walls of the chamber. Rolf could taste the bile rising up to his throat and his eyebrows knitted together in feral anger and hopelessness, some foolish part within his mind wanting to leave the bar and go searching for Riedel, the real one, the one that would have never engaged in such lecherous and cheap actions as the half-naked thing currently promenading upon the table was. Riedel pulled the soldiers closer to her, just to throw them away and to have the crowd burst into a drunken laughter and their guffaws only caused the flame of hatred burn brighter within the Hauptmann, this simple feeling already coaxing him towards violent, merciless deeds.
He pushed one of the men in front of him away roughly, growling and cursing, now adamant in his attempt to reach the woman, but the crowd had grown wild and hungry, the soldiers only pushing him back with equal force, an angry elbow appearing from somewhere within their midst and catching the Hauptmann square in his stomach. The man felt the air clearing from his lungs and he coughed, his eyes widened at the pain and at the realization that the soldiers would not listen to him, that both Riedel's show and the copious amounts of alcohol were quickly turning them into a herd of mindless beasts. They would tear the entire place apart soon, fighting amongst each other for reasons unknown after their minds had been muddled with the unearthly quality of the situation and Rolf could only watch as the woman, still standing upon the table, stripped away the brassiere. The crowd grew only wilder and Rolf opened his mouth to protest, wanting to tell the woman to stop, but he could only manage a hoarse croak that could hardly even carry past his lips in the maddening cacophony that surrounded him. Still he attempted to fight against the torrent of people, the woman now stepping somewhere into the midst of the rampant crowd, just to be lost to him, immersed into the deadly waves of the wallowing sea. A savage growl formed in the man's throat as he eyed the men around him hatefully, their disgusting, depraved sickness threatening to infect him when they stood too close to him and his muscled tensed, ready to battle against the mindless wretches constantly bumping into him, crowding together only to witness Riedel's horrible depravity. He would dig out their eyes so there was nothing for them to see her with, break the fingers that had touched upon the woman's skin and crush all of the offenders beneath his feet, just to make sure there was nobody left for Riedel to dance to. He pushed the nearest soldier away from him violently, the man colliding with his comrade while Rolf was already grasping another soldier by his collar, sneering and sending him stumbling to the side. He was making good progress in nothing else but rousing up the collective anger of the soldiers around him and suddenly someone pushed him back, the Hauptmann falling back and finding himself slumping into a chair, someone's elbow conveniently catching him roughly in his forehead. Rolf blinked, feeling dazed and light-headed at the hit, momentarily forgetting about his task and merely sitting there, his eyes wide and his breathing heavy from the wrath and desperation, the surreal quality of the current situation only making his head ring with the yells from the crowd around him.
At first he was certain that he was seeing things, spotting a pale figure crawling towards him over the floor, but as his eyes locked with the emerald irises of the woman, he knew that this was not a vision born in his confused mind. She prowled towards him on all fours like a panther stalking in the shadows, her movements sinuous and purposeful, her onyx hair framing the glinting green eyes that stared at him intently, claws now hidden inside treacherously silky paws. The grey-blue Luftwaffe tunic hung over her shoulders and back like the skin of a dead animal, concealing her nearly naked frame in the darkness of that willingly adopted disguise and offering Rolf the occasional brief glimpse at her uncovered breasts. Rolf sat upon his throne of blood-spattered, broken wills, looking down at her with hatred and disgust as she crawled closer, his grey eyes burning with wrath that was not directed only at her, but at the entire crowd, wishing to see them all suffer for their slights and offenses, for tarnishing the name of the Fatherland in succumbing to such an affronting, blind greed. Rolf should have been pleased that he had found her now after attempting to fight against the seemingly endless sea of the woman's new followers, but he managed to only feel disgust when the woman's hands slithered up to touch his knees and her hands journeyed ever upwards like nefarious snakes, their fangs dripping with a deadly poison. It was only another way for her to mock him and to push upon him her endless disgust and hatred and when he felt her grasp upon his knees tightening, he pushed his back against the chair and stared at her, the hatred burning in his eyes bright and genuine. This was not Riedel, but a treacherous mockery of her and Rolf wanted nothing do with her- no, it, for there was no real person inside the pale shell now rising up to meet his gaze.
A sharp bark escaped from the woman's lips and Rolf's fierce visage was suddenly twisted with confusion, the man's eyebrows rising up sharply and his mouth opening just slightly at the display of madness unfolding right before his eyes. She had suddenly assumed the role of a canine, the animalistic barks attacking the man with their lunacy and with the sickness that had taken Riedel over. The woman had effectively locked Rolf in his spot and he could no longer hear the clamor from the ground or even sense their presence, the narcotic quality of her sudden insanity having drawn him into a space void of any other souls. She crawled up his body, slithering over his frame like a dog attempting to appease its master, her presence sending the man's heart pounding faster against his ribcage and he could feel cold shivers running down his spine, not able to tell if they were born out of revulsion or excitement. Suddenly her face had shifted closer and a nimble tongue flitted out from between her painted lips, drawing a painfully slow line from his jaw towards his temple, the hot breath followed by a moist path of saliva that was left glistening on his skin. Rolf closed his eyes at the sensation, grimacing with something that could have been disgust or denial, an attempt to hopelessly disregard the action that threatened to drawn him into that filthy torrent she was so eagerly dwelling in. His eyes snapped open the moment he felt his peaked cap robbed from him and naturally it was next sitting upon her raven hair and before he had time to act, she was already rising up, her bare feet finding footholds upon the chair.
The irritated snarl upon Rolf's features lasted only for a fraction of a second as he glanced back up at her, his eyes involuntarily traveling past her calves up to her pale thighs, tracing a path over her stomach and stopping at the naked curves teasingly hidden from him even from the angle he was so graciously offered. He forced his gaze past this sight, only to find eyes of deep green staring back at him from the heights and then her hands slid down from her hair to her neck, tracing the length of her curves ever downwards and grasping the tunic, nearly offering him a sight currently hidden from him, just to deny this gift in a manner that made his pulse quicken. The shadows played on her bare skin with the music, drawing pathways along her muscles in an almost loving manner, as if night herself wished to embrace her wanton daughter, urging her to dance until her pained feet could not carry her no longer. The embers of anger still burned within Rolf, but it was not the only thing scorching him when he observed her tameless, carnal dance and when she finally moved downwards once more to meet his gaze, he looked back at her with his grey eyes ablaze with a sudden fever that had been ignited by her, ever by her.
The man dug his nails into the wooden texture of the chair as she loomed so close to him in such a suggestive manner and as her fingers grasped him by the head, Rolf's lips curved into a feral snarl as he felt the need to rebel against the privileges she was taking, this thing, this beast that was not even Riedel herself. Had this been just another night, the actions initiated by any other woman but her, Rolf would have only delighted seeing an enticing female engaged in such depravities and responded to them with the raw force that had been engraved in his very essence, ever violent and ever demanding. He could smell the sweet taste of red wine in her breath as she whispered meaningless things, words that simply made no sense, and Rolf attempted to rouse up the hatred within that would have enabled him to simply push her vile figure aside, his earlier rationality steering him clear from her lunacy. The woman's strong fingers crept to the back of his neck as she spoke and Rolf stared at her from that meaningless distance between them, his eyebrows now drawn into an almost invisible frown when she smiled at her own words, appearing oddly peaceful and content. The man opened his mouth slightly to finally address her, but then her lips were crushed violently against his and the man grunted, not feeling any sense of comfort in that feral kiss, an exchange of hatred and disease passing between them while her fingers curled roughly around his hair. Rolf's hand shot to the woman's arm, his fingers digging into that soft, pale skin that was not his alone to touch, that had been shared and passed between the men in the room like a lone bottle of wine. He could only hear the sound of his blood rushing through his veins and of his own heart beating violently inside his chest while the crowd around them had turned all the more feral upon the display, men yelling at them from an insignificant distance, all of them adding their voices into that chorus of pure madness. There was pain in that kiss, both physical and mental and Rolf had no hope in escaping its noxious essence, only the relentless pressure around the woman's bare arm providing the man with means of communicating his own violent response.
That raw exchange of hostility had not even quite ended when Rolf felt something liquid traveling down his face, the substance snaking in from between his lips, his tongue suddenly washing in the warm taste of red wine. The man was too dazed to even flinch at the sensation, but he was quickly awoken to the pure irregularity of the situation when a portion of the wine suddenly flowed down his throat, the unexpectedly and erratically served drink almost making him choke before he instinctively swallowed down the alcohol with a suppressed cough. Her hands held him tightly in his place and more of the wine was poured down his throat while the woman's lips pressed against his, eagerly drinking from them, the crowd around them stomping their feet and yelling in a maddened cacophony that had become silent for Rolf, his entire being focused on the presence of the woman and on the taste of the wine, on her lips moving along his skin and on the continuous trickle of the alcohol running down his chin and to his throat, snaking beneath his shirt and further along his chest. The woman's breathing felt hot on his jaw as she lapped up the wine, more of the bright ruby liquid poured into his mouth and escaping past his lips for her to consume. He drank in the wine now without hesitation, succumbing into that situation when he had not the means or the willpower to escape from it and when her lips found his for a passing moment, Rolf was suddenly all too eager to allow her a more distinct taste of that wine, the hand that had rested upon his side now finding it's way to her thigh and traversing upwards her ivory skin as he drank from her tainted essence. He could almost recognize Riedel for that brief moment that passed between them and it made him only delve deeper into that kiss while the crowd around them roared and bellowed, maybe hoping to see the performance turn even wilder, the last shreds of the woman's clothing discarded and the woman enjoyed properly as she should have been. Rolf was no longer aware of the existence of an audience and instead his fingers only pressed around her thigh, the other one still holding Riedel's arm while he focused in drawing out the familiar flame within her, as faint as it was. He had never considered its true importance, but it had suddenly become crucial to him and whatever faint, dying sense of genuine warmth dwelled inside him, it was fervently trying to find the real Riedel in that hungry union. He needed to see the true Riedel and he craved to banish the one that acted in a manner that made him feel nothing but anger and desperation, her anger and determination suddenly having become a rock he could rely on, a glimmering light in the deepest darkness. He needed that light to guide him, he needed her to tell him what to do, but these thoughts were still foreign and distant, only manifesting themselves as emotions he could not understand. His heart was pounding almost painfully now and when the wine suddenly stopped flowing, the man blinked, breathing out sharply when he felt the woman moving away, her warm breath suddenly becoming nothing but a distant memory upon his burning skin and Rolf's confused eyes met hers, the silence between them overwhelming even when the room was filled with nothing but savage, disappointed yells.
Rolf stared at her, wine still dripping down his chin and running along his neck, while his chest heaved heavily with his rapid breathing, steel-grey eyes full of questions and confusion looking back at her for that small moment. What was the meaning behind her actions, if there was any? Had Riedel really been there or was this the ploy of that disgusting animal that had taken her over? The man swallowed, trying to read from her expression if she had returned back to her wits, but instead of allowing him such a simple answer, she moved momentarily closer to remove the traces of wine from his lips, next already inching free from the man's grasp and away from him. The soldiers cared not for the Hauptmann now that Riedel had abandoned him, the man sitting in the chair bewildered and lost with his sandy hair standing disheveled upon his head and his grey eyes blinking as his mouth hung open. He was still trying to gain control of his own breathing when Riedel climbed upon the table once more and then she was covered by the hungry mob once more, the violent noise of their shouts and the shrill notes of the music suddenly attacking his hearing with their full momentum. Rolf could only see some of the soldiers bending closer to the table and the realization of the woman once more being the center of their hungry attention stabbed the man viciously, a jolt of anger shooting through his body and setting aflame the blood in his veins.
He rose from the chair, standing up to his full height like some vengeful god of a dead, forgotten religion, eyes filled with bitter fury of centuries past, the red wine smearing the canvas of his white shirt like blood and around him the storm clouds gathered, ready to herald the wrath of their immortal master. He started striding towards the crowd, pushing away anyone in his path with enough force to send some of them stumbling down upon the floor. Fenris had broken free from his chains and now ran hungry, ready to exact vengeance on all of those that had ever wronged him and burning to bring upon them their own, bloody doom. With his teeth bared and his veins filled with adrenaline, Rolf reached the table and grasped at the collar of the man in front of him, pulling the surprised soldier away from the woman and throwing him back upon the floor. This caught the attention of the men that had been standing close to him, even their drunken minds registering the sudden disappearance of their friend and as one of them turned their head around to see where he had disappeared off to, his face was met with the Hauptmann's fist. Noticing this, someone attempted to retaliate to the attack that had obviously been quite uncalled for, but the drunken strike lacked power, only managing to throw the Hauptmann's head aside for a moment. Rolf returned his hatefully burning gaze back at his assailant, simply latching a hand over his face and throwing him backwards with this simple, yet effective movement. Rolf had no further time to dedicate to these minor grievances and instead he only pulled back another leech latched upon the woman's skin.
The herd of mindless beasts devouring the carcass of their latest prey was now fast finding that their numbers were diminishing and some were stepping back in confusion, while some prepared to assault the man back, the few last men stubborn enough still attempting to hold on to the woman, confident that they would be the one to claim her. Having cleared enough room for himself to now actually properly reach the table, the Hauptmann stepped on the chair and climbed upon the table, settling standing over the woman's figure and eyeing his opposition from this vantage point. One of the men was still stubbornly clinging to Riedel's thigh and an angry growl vibrated within Rolf's wine-smeared throat, the man merely stomping his boot upon the greedy wrist, rousing up an agonized yell from the man before he was forced to pull his hand back to save himself from any further injury. Like a ferocious canine Rolf stood over the woman, hackles raised and ears flattened along his head while he bared his teeth at the opposition, the raw glint in his eyes promising instant agony for anyone daring to challenge him. Rolf kicked away another hand, causing it to disappear into the confused and increasingly furious crowd with a yelp, the man glancing behind himself briefly to make sure that everyone could read the severity in his eyes. "Das Spiel ist aus!" the man barked at the soldiers, allowing his gaze to travel over the hateful faces staring back at him. "Ich bin ein Hauptmann im Dienst das Vaterlandes, und wenn Sie so viel als Versuch, mich zu durchqueren, ich die ganze beträchtliche Macht in meinem Dienst beschäftigen werde, um Sie in solch ein tiefes Meer der Scheiße zu ziehen, wird sogar Ihre jämmerliche, faule Nachkommenschaft noch darin ertrinken," Rolf snarled dangerously, the sudden shift in the situation having cut short the wild enjoyment the men had just momentarily been relishing in. "Jetzt denken Sie gerade, dass und dann zu Ihren Getränken zurückgehen. Es gibt nichts mehr hier für Sie, um sich damit zu unterhalten," such cold severity was there to the Hauptmann's tone as to force the men to regard him, the commanding military essence of his words already turning some of them away from the table, while others still lingered, refusing to give up so easily in their drunken state.
The proprietor had been observing the situation and seen the danger brewing in the unruly German crowd, already having opened up fresh bottles of beer and wine, their price easily covering for the cost of any broken furniture that would be the inevitable result of a fight, not to even mention keeping the current patrons happy and buying more instead of seeing the pub emptied by the military police. "Freie Getränke!" he now quickly announced from behind the counter in his broken German, effectively pulling most of the crowd towards the bar instead. The ones that still lingered by the table had their hungry eyes settled upon Riedel, while others still challenged Rolf with their hateful gazes. Rolf sneered at them openly, stepping away from Riedel and to the edge of the table, his boots slamming loudly upon the floor as he jumped down. As if the remaining men could not hope to pose him with any threat at all, Rolf only glanced at them jeeringly, turning around to grasp Riedel by her arms and dragging her up from the table. It was only this stark decisiveness of the Hauptmann that kept him momentarily safe from the scornful retaliations that the drunken soldiers were no doubt ready to exact upon him. Rolf pulled the tunic back upon the woman's shoulders, remaining nothing but resolute and commanding when he grasped her by the arms, rather pushing the woman towards the door than pulling her to minimize any resistance she was ready to offer him. He crushed his fingers around her arms through the tunic, that iron grasp still carrying the same savage anger with which he had driven the greedy hands away. He would have inquired Riedel about the whereabouts of her clothing and her shoes, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before the drunken idiots would find their courage once more and attempt to prevent him from stealing their trophy away from then, Captain or not.
He pushed the woman in front of him into the cool, now almost chilling night-time air and Rolf breathed in deeply of the fresh oxygen, feeling it clearing away the traces of madness and filth of the hellish plane he had just briefly visited. He forced her ever to walk before him, no matter if she stumbled or protested, refusing to yield his grasp for one moment or even addressing her, for his anger would not allow him to utter another word, nor would he have found anything fitting to say to her. It was only after they had reached a safe distance from the pub that Rolf allowed his fingers to unfurl from around her arms and he nudged her forwards, as if to denote that she might try turning back, but he wouldn't give her the chance. Rolf glanced towards the door of the pub briefly. He was worried that the military police would arrive at the scene and find him there causing trouble once more, not to mention spotting Riedel and asking her too many questions and demanding to see identification papers she did not possess. Rolf narrowed his eyes, trying to calm down the wild beating of his heart while feeling as if he had just gone an entire week without rest, so spent had his raw torrent of emotions left him. Not allowing the fatigue to reflect from his eyes, the man turned around to regard Riedel once more while his hand already rose in mid-swirl, catching the woman sharply upon her cheek, the swift slap echoing from the walls of the nearby buildings. The strike carried with it a great importance and it was not one bred out of pure hated, but of the need to set the woman straight and to force her back into the reality, no matter how raw and cold it was when compared to the warm, drunken haze she was currently enjoying. Rolf could not stand watching her demeaning herself so willingly and maybe it was simply a childish need to have someone to rely on, even if they hated you and were forced to remain in his sphere of influence only because he had found means of keeping her there, maybe he simply could not stand watching things change when he had learned to depend on them; it mattered little what fueled his actions, but there was severity in both that strike and in the man's steel-grey eyes as he gazed back at her after it. "Wo sind Ihre Kleidung? Ich meine Ihre richtige Kleidung, die Uniform. Wir müssen dorthin gehen," Rolf asked sternly, his silver eyes holding now holding within them only cold neutrality, so depleted had his strongest emotions suddenly become. He had no words to insult her with, no straightforward questions to pose to her nor any derision to share and the man found himself only hoping that he'd manage to solve the situation as effectively as possible. "Zeigen Sie mir den Weg. Lass uns gehen," the man was already prodding her into moving, anxious to leave behind the pub and to escort the woman away from the greedy hands and eyes, but also to distance himself from the troubles that were no doubt already snapping at his heels.
Translations:
"Das Spiel ist aus!"
"The game is over!"
"Ich bin ein Hauptmann im Dienst das Vaterlandes, und wenn Sie so viel als Versuch..."
"I'm a Captain in the service of the Fatherland and if you so much as attempt to cross me, I will employ all of the considerable power in my service to pull you into such a deep sea of shit, even your miserable, rotten offspring will still be drowning in it."
"Jetzt denken Sie gerade, dass und dann zu Ihren Getränken zurückgehen..."
"Now, you just consider that and then go back to your drinks. There is nothing more here for you to entertain yourself with."
"Freie Getränke!"
"Free drinks!"
"Wo sind Ihre Kleidung? Ich meine Ihre richtige Kleidung, die Uniform. Wir müssen dorthin gehen."
"Where are your clothes? I mean your proper clothes, the uniform. We need to get to them."
"Zeigen Sie mir den Weg. Lass uns gehen."
"Show me the way. Let's go."
The Hauptmann's back collided against the wall of soldiers standing behind him and when the man attempted to grasp at the fleeting figure of the dark-haired woman, she had already stepped out of his reach, discarding the Hauptmann's tunic, the mass of uniforms closing in around her like the hungry maws of a giant beast. Rolf felt someone pushing him away and he stumbled forward, trying to change that movement into one that would bring him closer to Riedel once more, but the way was hopelessly blocked by the crowd, all of the men eager to witness whatever antics the woman was going to entertain them with next. A low, irritated growl escaped from between Rolf's gritted teeth and he merely stared past the heads and shoulders of the other men, spotting Riedel just in time to see her rubbing her body against one the soldiers, the image drawing a feral sneer across his lips. She allowed the elated young soldier her attention only for a brief moment before moving on to the next one, her hand traveling enticingly over the neck of the grinning man. Rolf wanted to stop it with a desperation that felt completely foreign to him and he tried to pry open a gap in the crowd, growling angry commands at the drunken soldiers standing in front of him, but they were far too intoxicated and spellbound to make note of his rank and - as it soon dawned to him - even of his presence. He could only stand imprisoned in that spot, in the midst of the sea of noise and depravity that wanted to infect him with its disease, while the woman danced nimbly among her greedy admirers, their eager hands tracing paths upon her body whenever they were presented with this tempting opportunity.
How Rolf wished he could have snapped broken the bones of those filthy paws, changed the happy laughs and mirthful whoops into screams of terror and agony while he stood triumphant and proud above them, a hunter snarling bloodied and unyielding next to the bodies of those that had dared to challenge him. The image filled him with a raw, feral power that sparked in his eyes, now staring at the woman's figure as she was helped on top of the table, the crowd in front of the man still preventing him from reaching her. Her eyes found his through the cigarette smoke, the straps of her brassiere torn down by the hands of the soldiers and as Rolf delved deeper into those emerald irises, he could not find Riedel, witnessing only some poisonous emptiness that existed within her instead. There was ferocity in that glance, but even then it was only a pale mockery, some treacherous taint having twisted even her anger into something perverse and macabre. Rolf was not a person inclined to believe in anything supernatural, but at that moment he felt as if some foul spirit had taken over Riedel's body, now pulling her along to a diabolical song, a mere puppet in the hands of some wicked monstrosity. She closed her eyes, breaking off the brief eye-contact and Rolf could only see her reclining her foot, one after the other, on someone's shoulder or hand, the crowd preventing him from witnessing the details. She procured a tobacco roll from her desirous audience, standing upon the table for the all the world to see, for each one of them to witness the full extent of her despicable state.
When those ever hungry hands of the men reached towards her thighs to pull of the thin, black tights, Rolf felt physically sick and while he hoped he could have averted his eyes from the sight, he could not, his grey eyes merely widening at the sight while his breathing became shallow from anger and disgust. More of her pale skin was revealed for the crowd to enjoy and then someone already climbed upon the table, Riedel pushing her own frame against his while the soldier's hands traveled eagerly along the smooth desert of her skin, more hands reaching towards her from the crowd. Surely it was a living, breathing vision from the very depths of Hell itself; the doomed souls attempted to claim the succubus as their own, eagerly bathing in the various sins and vices they had succumbed into and they worshipped her in all of her provocative and corrupt essence, each one of them hoping to be the one to get chosen by the demon and be dragged into whatever infernal fate she had in store for them. It would scorch them and destroy them, but they would accept this punishment gladly just to run their fingers along her burning skin, to drink in the sweet sin she was drenched with, sacrificing their battered and weak bodies to her ensanguined altar. Another cursed soul climbed upon the fetid shrine, lashing a leather belt towards the demoness and allowing it to curl around her form just to draw her close, while she was ever dancing, continuously grinding her hips to the wild tunes of the music bouncing from the walls of the chamber. Rolf could taste the bile rising up to his throat and his eyebrows knitted together in feral anger and hopelessness, some foolish part within his mind wanting to leave the bar and go searching for Riedel, the real one, the one that would have never engaged in such lecherous and cheap actions as the half-naked thing currently promenading upon the table was. Riedel pulled the soldiers closer to her, just to throw them away and to have the crowd burst into a drunken laughter and their guffaws only caused the flame of hatred burn brighter within the Hauptmann, this simple feeling already coaxing him towards violent, merciless deeds.
He pushed one of the men in front of him away roughly, growling and cursing, now adamant in his attempt to reach the woman, but the crowd had grown wild and hungry, the soldiers only pushing him back with equal force, an angry elbow appearing from somewhere within their midst and catching the Hauptmann square in his stomach. The man felt the air clearing from his lungs and he coughed, his eyes widened at the pain and at the realization that the soldiers would not listen to him, that both Riedel's show and the copious amounts of alcohol were quickly turning them into a herd of mindless beasts. They would tear the entire place apart soon, fighting amongst each other for reasons unknown after their minds had been muddled with the unearthly quality of the situation and Rolf could only watch as the woman, still standing upon the table, stripped away the brassiere. The crowd grew only wilder and Rolf opened his mouth to protest, wanting to tell the woman to stop, but he could only manage a hoarse croak that could hardly even carry past his lips in the maddening cacophony that surrounded him. Still he attempted to fight against the torrent of people, the woman now stepping somewhere into the midst of the rampant crowd, just to be lost to him, immersed into the deadly waves of the wallowing sea. A savage growl formed in the man's throat as he eyed the men around him hatefully, their disgusting, depraved sickness threatening to infect him when they stood too close to him and his muscled tensed, ready to battle against the mindless wretches constantly bumping into him, crowding together only to witness Riedel's horrible depravity. He would dig out their eyes so there was nothing for them to see her with, break the fingers that had touched upon the woman's skin and crush all of the offenders beneath his feet, just to make sure there was nobody left for Riedel to dance to. He pushed the nearest soldier away from him violently, the man colliding with his comrade while Rolf was already grasping another soldier by his collar, sneering and sending him stumbling to the side. He was making good progress in nothing else but rousing up the collective anger of the soldiers around him and suddenly someone pushed him back, the Hauptmann falling back and finding himself slumping into a chair, someone's elbow conveniently catching him roughly in his forehead. Rolf blinked, feeling dazed and light-headed at the hit, momentarily forgetting about his task and merely sitting there, his eyes wide and his breathing heavy from the wrath and desperation, the surreal quality of the current situation only making his head ring with the yells from the crowd around him.
At first he was certain that he was seeing things, spotting a pale figure crawling towards him over the floor, but as his eyes locked with the emerald irises of the woman, he knew that this was not a vision born in his confused mind. She prowled towards him on all fours like a panther stalking in the shadows, her movements sinuous and purposeful, her onyx hair framing the glinting green eyes that stared at him intently, claws now hidden inside treacherously silky paws. The grey-blue Luftwaffe tunic hung over her shoulders and back like the skin of a dead animal, concealing her nearly naked frame in the darkness of that willingly adopted disguise and offering Rolf the occasional brief glimpse at her uncovered breasts. Rolf sat upon his throne of blood-spattered, broken wills, looking down at her with hatred and disgust as she crawled closer, his grey eyes burning with wrath that was not directed only at her, but at the entire crowd, wishing to see them all suffer for their slights and offenses, for tarnishing the name of the Fatherland in succumbing to such an affronting, blind greed. Rolf should have been pleased that he had found her now after attempting to fight against the seemingly endless sea of the woman's new followers, but he managed to only feel disgust when the woman's hands slithered up to touch his knees and her hands journeyed ever upwards like nefarious snakes, their fangs dripping with a deadly poison. It was only another way for her to mock him and to push upon him her endless disgust and hatred and when he felt her grasp upon his knees tightening, he pushed his back against the chair and stared at her, the hatred burning in his eyes bright and genuine. This was not Riedel, but a treacherous mockery of her and Rolf wanted nothing do with her- no, it, for there was no real person inside the pale shell now rising up to meet his gaze.
A sharp bark escaped from the woman's lips and Rolf's fierce visage was suddenly twisted with confusion, the man's eyebrows rising up sharply and his mouth opening just slightly at the display of madness unfolding right before his eyes. She had suddenly assumed the role of a canine, the animalistic barks attacking the man with their lunacy and with the sickness that had taken Riedel over. The woman had effectively locked Rolf in his spot and he could no longer hear the clamor from the ground or even sense their presence, the narcotic quality of her sudden insanity having drawn him into a space void of any other souls. She crawled up his body, slithering over his frame like a dog attempting to appease its master, her presence sending the man's heart pounding faster against his ribcage and he could feel cold shivers running down his spine, not able to tell if they were born out of revulsion or excitement. Suddenly her face had shifted closer and a nimble tongue flitted out from between her painted lips, drawing a painfully slow line from his jaw towards his temple, the hot breath followed by a moist path of saliva that was left glistening on his skin. Rolf closed his eyes at the sensation, grimacing with something that could have been disgust or denial, an attempt to hopelessly disregard the action that threatened to drawn him into that filthy torrent she was so eagerly dwelling in. His eyes snapped open the moment he felt his peaked cap robbed from him and naturally it was next sitting upon her raven hair and before he had time to act, she was already rising up, her bare feet finding footholds upon the chair.
The irritated snarl upon Rolf's features lasted only for a fraction of a second as he glanced back up at her, his eyes involuntarily traveling past her calves up to her pale thighs, tracing a path over her stomach and stopping at the naked curves teasingly hidden from him even from the angle he was so graciously offered. He forced his gaze past this sight, only to find eyes of deep green staring back at him from the heights and then her hands slid down from her hair to her neck, tracing the length of her curves ever downwards and grasping the tunic, nearly offering him a sight currently hidden from him, just to deny this gift in a manner that made his pulse quicken. The shadows played on her bare skin with the music, drawing pathways along her muscles in an almost loving manner, as if night herself wished to embrace her wanton daughter, urging her to dance until her pained feet could not carry her no longer. The embers of anger still burned within Rolf, but it was not the only thing scorching him when he observed her tameless, carnal dance and when she finally moved downwards once more to meet his gaze, he looked back at her with his grey eyes ablaze with a sudden fever that had been ignited by her, ever by her.
The man dug his nails into the wooden texture of the chair as she loomed so close to him in such a suggestive manner and as her fingers grasped him by the head, Rolf's lips curved into a feral snarl as he felt the need to rebel against the privileges she was taking, this thing, this beast that was not even Riedel herself. Had this been just another night, the actions initiated by any other woman but her, Rolf would have only delighted seeing an enticing female engaged in such depravities and responded to them with the raw force that had been engraved in his very essence, ever violent and ever demanding. He could smell the sweet taste of red wine in her breath as she whispered meaningless things, words that simply made no sense, and Rolf attempted to rouse up the hatred within that would have enabled him to simply push her vile figure aside, his earlier rationality steering him clear from her lunacy. The woman's strong fingers crept to the back of his neck as she spoke and Rolf stared at her from that meaningless distance between them, his eyebrows now drawn into an almost invisible frown when she smiled at her own words, appearing oddly peaceful and content. The man opened his mouth slightly to finally address her, but then her lips were crushed violently against his and the man grunted, not feeling any sense of comfort in that feral kiss, an exchange of hatred and disease passing between them while her fingers curled roughly around his hair. Rolf's hand shot to the woman's arm, his fingers digging into that soft, pale skin that was not his alone to touch, that had been shared and passed between the men in the room like a lone bottle of wine. He could only hear the sound of his blood rushing through his veins and of his own heart beating violently inside his chest while the crowd around them had turned all the more feral upon the display, men yelling at them from an insignificant distance, all of them adding their voices into that chorus of pure madness. There was pain in that kiss, both physical and mental and Rolf had no hope in escaping its noxious essence, only the relentless pressure around the woman's bare arm providing the man with means of communicating his own violent response.
That raw exchange of hostility had not even quite ended when Rolf felt something liquid traveling down his face, the substance snaking in from between his lips, his tongue suddenly washing in the warm taste of red wine. The man was too dazed to even flinch at the sensation, but he was quickly awoken to the pure irregularity of the situation when a portion of the wine suddenly flowed down his throat, the unexpectedly and erratically served drink almost making him choke before he instinctively swallowed down the alcohol with a suppressed cough. Her hands held him tightly in his place and more of the wine was poured down his throat while the woman's lips pressed against his, eagerly drinking from them, the crowd around them stomping their feet and yelling in a maddened cacophony that had become silent for Rolf, his entire being focused on the presence of the woman and on the taste of the wine, on her lips moving along his skin and on the continuous trickle of the alcohol running down his chin and to his throat, snaking beneath his shirt and further along his chest. The woman's breathing felt hot on his jaw as she lapped up the wine, more of the bright ruby liquid poured into his mouth and escaping past his lips for her to consume. He drank in the wine now without hesitation, succumbing into that situation when he had not the means or the willpower to escape from it and when her lips found his for a passing moment, Rolf was suddenly all too eager to allow her a more distinct taste of that wine, the hand that had rested upon his side now finding it's way to her thigh and traversing upwards her ivory skin as he drank from her tainted essence. He could almost recognize Riedel for that brief moment that passed between them and it made him only delve deeper into that kiss while the crowd around them roared and bellowed, maybe hoping to see the performance turn even wilder, the last shreds of the woman's clothing discarded and the woman enjoyed properly as she should have been. Rolf was no longer aware of the existence of an audience and instead his fingers only pressed around her thigh, the other one still holding Riedel's arm while he focused in drawing out the familiar flame within her, as faint as it was. He had never considered its true importance, but it had suddenly become crucial to him and whatever faint, dying sense of genuine warmth dwelled inside him, it was fervently trying to find the real Riedel in that hungry union. He needed to see the true Riedel and he craved to banish the one that acted in a manner that made him feel nothing but anger and desperation, her anger and determination suddenly having become a rock he could rely on, a glimmering light in the deepest darkness. He needed that light to guide him, he needed her to tell him what to do, but these thoughts were still foreign and distant, only manifesting themselves as emotions he could not understand. His heart was pounding almost painfully now and when the wine suddenly stopped flowing, the man blinked, breathing out sharply when he felt the woman moving away, her warm breath suddenly becoming nothing but a distant memory upon his burning skin and Rolf's confused eyes met hers, the silence between them overwhelming even when the room was filled with nothing but savage, disappointed yells.
Rolf stared at her, wine still dripping down his chin and running along his neck, while his chest heaved heavily with his rapid breathing, steel-grey eyes full of questions and confusion looking back at her for that small moment. What was the meaning behind her actions, if there was any? Had Riedel really been there or was this the ploy of that disgusting animal that had taken her over? The man swallowed, trying to read from her expression if she had returned back to her wits, but instead of allowing him such a simple answer, she moved momentarily closer to remove the traces of wine from his lips, next already inching free from the man's grasp and away from him. The soldiers cared not for the Hauptmann now that Riedel had abandoned him, the man sitting in the chair bewildered and lost with his sandy hair standing disheveled upon his head and his grey eyes blinking as his mouth hung open. He was still trying to gain control of his own breathing when Riedel climbed upon the table once more and then she was covered by the hungry mob once more, the violent noise of their shouts and the shrill notes of the music suddenly attacking his hearing with their full momentum. Rolf could only see some of the soldiers bending closer to the table and the realization of the woman once more being the center of their hungry attention stabbed the man viciously, a jolt of anger shooting through his body and setting aflame the blood in his veins.
He rose from the chair, standing up to his full height like some vengeful god of a dead, forgotten religion, eyes filled with bitter fury of centuries past, the red wine smearing the canvas of his white shirt like blood and around him the storm clouds gathered, ready to herald the wrath of their immortal master. He started striding towards the crowd, pushing away anyone in his path with enough force to send some of them stumbling down upon the floor. Fenris had broken free from his chains and now ran hungry, ready to exact vengeance on all of those that had ever wronged him and burning to bring upon them their own, bloody doom. With his teeth bared and his veins filled with adrenaline, Rolf reached the table and grasped at the collar of the man in front of him, pulling the surprised soldier away from the woman and throwing him back upon the floor. This caught the attention of the men that had been standing close to him, even their drunken minds registering the sudden disappearance of their friend and as one of them turned their head around to see where he had disappeared off to, his face was met with the Hauptmann's fist. Noticing this, someone attempted to retaliate to the attack that had obviously been quite uncalled for, but the drunken strike lacked power, only managing to throw the Hauptmann's head aside for a moment. Rolf returned his hatefully burning gaze back at his assailant, simply latching a hand over his face and throwing him backwards with this simple, yet effective movement. Rolf had no further time to dedicate to these minor grievances and instead he only pulled back another leech latched upon the woman's skin.
The herd of mindless beasts devouring the carcass of their latest prey was now fast finding that their numbers were diminishing and some were stepping back in confusion, while some prepared to assault the man back, the few last men stubborn enough still attempting to hold on to the woman, confident that they would be the one to claim her. Having cleared enough room for himself to now actually properly reach the table, the Hauptmann stepped on the chair and climbed upon the table, settling standing over the woman's figure and eyeing his opposition from this vantage point. One of the men was still stubbornly clinging to Riedel's thigh and an angry growl vibrated within Rolf's wine-smeared throat, the man merely stomping his boot upon the greedy wrist, rousing up an agonized yell from the man before he was forced to pull his hand back to save himself from any further injury. Like a ferocious canine Rolf stood over the woman, hackles raised and ears flattened along his head while he bared his teeth at the opposition, the raw glint in his eyes promising instant agony for anyone daring to challenge him. Rolf kicked away another hand, causing it to disappear into the confused and increasingly furious crowd with a yelp, the man glancing behind himself briefly to make sure that everyone could read the severity in his eyes. "Das Spiel ist aus!" the man barked at the soldiers, allowing his gaze to travel over the hateful faces staring back at him. "Ich bin ein Hauptmann im Dienst das Vaterlandes, und wenn Sie so viel als Versuch, mich zu durchqueren, ich die ganze beträchtliche Macht in meinem Dienst beschäftigen werde, um Sie in solch ein tiefes Meer der Scheiße zu ziehen, wird sogar Ihre jämmerliche, faule Nachkommenschaft noch darin ertrinken," Rolf snarled dangerously, the sudden shift in the situation having cut short the wild enjoyment the men had just momentarily been relishing in. "Jetzt denken Sie gerade, dass und dann zu Ihren Getränken zurückgehen. Es gibt nichts mehr hier für Sie, um sich damit zu unterhalten," such cold severity was there to the Hauptmann's tone as to force the men to regard him, the commanding military essence of his words already turning some of them away from the table, while others still lingered, refusing to give up so easily in their drunken state.
The proprietor had been observing the situation and seen the danger brewing in the unruly German crowd, already having opened up fresh bottles of beer and wine, their price easily covering for the cost of any broken furniture that would be the inevitable result of a fight, not to even mention keeping the current patrons happy and buying more instead of seeing the pub emptied by the military police. "Freie Getränke!" he now quickly announced from behind the counter in his broken German, effectively pulling most of the crowd towards the bar instead. The ones that still lingered by the table had their hungry eyes settled upon Riedel, while others still challenged Rolf with their hateful gazes. Rolf sneered at them openly, stepping away from Riedel and to the edge of the table, his boots slamming loudly upon the floor as he jumped down. As if the remaining men could not hope to pose him with any threat at all, Rolf only glanced at them jeeringly, turning around to grasp Riedel by her arms and dragging her up from the table. It was only this stark decisiveness of the Hauptmann that kept him momentarily safe from the scornful retaliations that the drunken soldiers were no doubt ready to exact upon him. Rolf pulled the tunic back upon the woman's shoulders, remaining nothing but resolute and commanding when he grasped her by the arms, rather pushing the woman towards the door than pulling her to minimize any resistance she was ready to offer him. He crushed his fingers around her arms through the tunic, that iron grasp still carrying the same savage anger with which he had driven the greedy hands away. He would have inquired Riedel about the whereabouts of her clothing and her shoes, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before the drunken idiots would find their courage once more and attempt to prevent him from stealing their trophy away from then, Captain or not.
He pushed the woman in front of him into the cool, now almost chilling night-time air and Rolf breathed in deeply of the fresh oxygen, feeling it clearing away the traces of madness and filth of the hellish plane he had just briefly visited. He forced her ever to walk before him, no matter if she stumbled or protested, refusing to yield his grasp for one moment or even addressing her, for his anger would not allow him to utter another word, nor would he have found anything fitting to say to her. It was only after they had reached a safe distance from the pub that Rolf allowed his fingers to unfurl from around her arms and he nudged her forwards, as if to denote that she might try turning back, but he wouldn't give her the chance. Rolf glanced towards the door of the pub briefly. He was worried that the military police would arrive at the scene and find him there causing trouble once more, not to mention spotting Riedel and asking her too many questions and demanding to see identification papers she did not possess. Rolf narrowed his eyes, trying to calm down the wild beating of his heart while feeling as if he had just gone an entire week without rest, so spent had his raw torrent of emotions left him. Not allowing the fatigue to reflect from his eyes, the man turned around to regard Riedel once more while his hand already rose in mid-swirl, catching the woman sharply upon her cheek, the swift slap echoing from the walls of the nearby buildings. The strike carried with it a great importance and it was not one bred out of pure hated, but of the need to set the woman straight and to force her back into the reality, no matter how raw and cold it was when compared to the warm, drunken haze she was currently enjoying. Rolf could not stand watching her demeaning herself so willingly and maybe it was simply a childish need to have someone to rely on, even if they hated you and were forced to remain in his sphere of influence only because he had found means of keeping her there, maybe he simply could not stand watching things change when he had learned to depend on them; it mattered little what fueled his actions, but there was severity in both that strike and in the man's steel-grey eyes as he gazed back at her after it. "Wo sind Ihre Kleidung? Ich meine Ihre richtige Kleidung, die Uniform. Wir müssen dorthin gehen," Rolf asked sternly, his silver eyes holding now holding within them only cold neutrality, so depleted had his strongest emotions suddenly become. He had no words to insult her with, no straightforward questions to pose to her nor any derision to share and the man found himself only hoping that he'd manage to solve the situation as effectively as possible. "Zeigen Sie mir den Weg. Lass uns gehen," the man was already prodding her into moving, anxious to leave behind the pub and to escort the woman away from the greedy hands and eyes, but also to distance himself from the troubles that were no doubt already snapping at his heels.
Translations:
"Das Spiel ist aus!"
"The game is over!"
"Ich bin ein Hauptmann im Dienst das Vaterlandes, und wenn Sie so viel als Versuch..."
"I'm a Captain in the service of the Fatherland and if you so much as attempt to cross me, I will employ all of the considerable power in my service to pull you into such a deep sea of shit, even your miserable, rotten offspring will still be drowning in it."
"Jetzt denken Sie gerade, dass und dann zu Ihren Getränken zurückgehen..."
"Now, you just consider that and then go back to your drinks. There is nothing more here for you to entertain yourself with."
"Freie Getränke!"
"Free drinks!"
"Wo sind Ihre Kleidung? Ich meine Ihre richtige Kleidung, die Uniform. Wir müssen dorthin gehen."
"Where are your clothes? I mean your proper clothes, the uniform. We need to get to them."
"Zeigen Sie mir den Weg. Lass uns gehen."
"Show me the way. Let's go."
