After a long day...[Wilhelm/another]

[∬: Felix Odegaard]

Felix threw open the large door of the tavern, a blast of warm air hitting his rosy face. He had recently gotten a shave, and the blond stubble that once covered his face was now gone, and he was not used to the cold air against his face. His hair was cut skin length on the sides and back and long and slicked with oil on the top. Felix thought he looked quite good, if he thought so himself.

The bar stretched along the wall to his right, and a huge array of bottles lay on a shelf behind it. Several people sat at the bar, including a couple in the SS uniform. On the right, a blond singer belted out lyrics to an unfamilier song. It had a good rythem, and he liked it, somewhat. Tables were scattered throughout the room, filled with talking people. Felix found an empty one near the corner and pulled out one of the four seats.

Felix had invited his good friends Pvt. Klemens Langendorf and Pvt. Theophil Montreal, but Theophil had gotten tied up in some family matters, and now only Klemens was planning on coming. No problem, there is now plenty of room for any SS man that decided to drop in.

Felix turned as he heard the door open again, bringing in a blast of cold air. Klemens! "Klemens! Kommen Sie vorbei und ich werde Ihnen ungefähr zu trinken!" Klemens scanned the room, his eyes finally resting on Felix. Felix! Ich würde gerne einen netten Drink! Klemens replied, taking a seat next to Felix, and they soon were chatting about the war, divisional news, and other various things.

[deutschlandschutze]

As Dietrich walked the streets, he hucnched over and stuck his hands in his pockets. There was a biting wind and he was cursing himself for not donning his winter coat. His field gray service cap adorned his head at a slight slant as was the common style amongst the troops. His boots sloshed through puddles that dotted the street, throwing water up on his ankels, addind to the cold.

What he was looking for he was not sure. He had managed to score a weekend pass off base and was eager to spend it wisely. Still being new to the unit, he did not know many men of the division. As a result he hadn't heard of any good places in town and had no one to spend his pass with. On these grounds he had decided to wander the streets of the small town until he found something to do.

Dietrich licked his lips that were becoming dry rapidly. Voices, noisy and rowdy, approached him. Glancing quickly upward, he saw a group of three Heer soldiers meandering down the road, obviously drunk. Wishing not to have to stop and talk, Dietrich lowered his head deeper into the wind and walked on at a slightly faster pace. In his drunken stupor one the soldiers bumped into Dietrich, nearly knocking him to the ground. Dietrich turned angrily on him. "Bewachung, wohin Sie gehen!" The Heer soldier stumbled back a bit before answering. "Sie denken Sie SS sind so zäh! Denken Sie, dass die ganze Straße Ihnen gehört!" Though not long ago Dietrich had been a Heer man, his new pride was quickly swelling up within him. "Beobachten Sie Ihr Zunge-Schwein! Mindestens können wir unseren geistigen Getränk halten und umherwandernde Dummköpfe und Alkoholiker nicht werden! Sie nennen sich einen Soldaten?"

The other two men pulled their comrade along, not wishing to further prolong the conflict. Dietrich hurried down the street in search of something to calm himself. Ahead, light was streaming out a window and set the street glowing with its warm rays. The sound of music drifted from within and seemed to beckon him to join it.

The door slid open at his push and warm air greeted him as it rushed outside. Few people if any looked to see their new guest. Most were busy at the tables drinking, talking, or playing skat. The bar too with its stools were filled with men. A blonde singer was to the right singing away. Dietrich thought he had heard the song before but he couldn't be sure of this. He had heard many songs and he could no longer clearly distinguish between all of them.

Stepping to the bar, he asked for a bottle of cognac. Dietrich slipped his cap off and stuffed it into his coat pocket. His dark brown hair was getting to be almost longer than regulation. He had mad sure to tuck it all up under his cap, but now that he was safely off base he couldn't care less who saw. The bartender placed the bottle on the bar. Dietrich handed over the appropriate number of Reichsmarks and took the bottle.

Turning to face the rest of the room, he spied a table in the back corner with two open seats. Dietrich weaved his way in and out of tables on his way to the back. He approached slowly and smiled at the men who he now clearly saw were SS soldiers. "Entschuldigen Sie mich Kameraden, werden diese Plätze eingenommen?"

Translations:

Bewachung, wohin Sie gehen!- Watch where you're going!

Sie denken Sie SS sind so zäh! Denken Sie, dass die ganze Straße Ihnen gehört!- You SS think you are so tough! You think you own the whole street!

Beobachten Sie Ihr Zunge-Schwein! Mindestens können wir unseren geistigen Getränk halten und umherwandernde Dummköpfe und Alkoholiker nicht werden! Sie nennen sich einen Soldaten?- Watch your tongue pig! At least we can hold our liquor and not become rambling fools and drunkards! You call yourself a soldier?

Entschuldigen Sie mich Kameraden, werden diese Plätze eingenommen?- Excuse me comrades, are these seats taken?

[∬: Felix Odegaard]

Entschuldigen Sie mich Kameraden, werden diese Plätze eingenommen?

Klemens and Felix looked up at the same time. A young SS man stood above them, his messy brown hair sitting above his head. Felix spoke. "Nein, es ist offen für alle, die Sie bitte, vor allem und SS-Mann!" Klemens pulled out the chair to the left of Felix and hoped the man would sit down.

"Excuse me Kameraden, Ich werde mir ein Bild von Schnaps. Möchten Sie für einen Drink, Klemens?" Felix said, pushing his chair from the table. "Ja, ich werde auch einige Schnäpse, Kirsche bitte." Klemens replied. "Trinken teuer, eh Klemens?" Felix retorted playfully. "Machen Sie sich keine Sorgen, ich die Rechnung bezahlen." Klemens replied with a wink. Felix nodded with a smile and walked over to the bar.

Felix's jackboots thudded dully over the wooden floor as he walked. Suddenly, a lauging man crashed into Felix, knocking him off balance. He saw that the drunkard's collar tabs didn't hold the runes of the SS, so he threw him off, disgusted. Glaring at the drunken man, now spralled on the floor, he leaned agianst the bar. Waving the bartender over with the flick of his hand, he began to order.

"Ich habe zwei Schnaps, eine Kirsche, Pfirsich die anderen." The bartender nodded and plucked a bottle from the shelf. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Felix began to think of why he liked peaches so much. They had a nice fruity taste, not strong and bitter like oranges, lemons, and strawberries, but light and sweet, like a pretty woman's lips. Oooh, women.

Felix was jolted out of his thought as the bartender slammed two glasses done on the table, one red tinted, the other a pale tannish color. Handing a few reichsmarks over, he grabbed the glasses and walked back to the table, humming along to the song that the singer was singing.

Sliding into his chair and handing Klemen's his drink, he asked the newcomer "Also, was ist Ihr Name? Sind Sie in der 2. SS?"



TRANSLATION

Nein, es ist offen für alle, die Sie bitte, vor allem und SS-Mann!"
No, it's open to anyone, especially an SS-man!

"Excuse me Kameraden, Ich werde mir ein Bild von Schnaps. Möchten Sie für einen Drink, Klemens?"
Excuse me comerades, i'm going to get some Schnaps. You want somthing to drink, Klemens?

Ja, ich werde auch einige Schnäpse, Kirsche bitte.
Yes, I will have some Schnapps too, cherry please.

"Trinken teuer, eh Klemens?"
Drinking expensive, eh Klemens?

Machen Sie sich keine Sorgen, ich die Rechnung bezahlen.
Don't worry, I will pay the bill.

"Ich habe zwei Schnaps, eine Kirsche, Pfirsich die anderen."
I will have two Schnaps, one cherry, one peach.

"Also, was ist Ihr Name? Sind Sie in der 2. SS?"
So, what is your name? Are you in the 2. SS?

[deutschlandschutze]

Dietrich smiled again and eased himself down into the empty chair, which the the other soldier had pulled out for him. He twirled the bottle of cognac around in his hand, not knowing what to say. He felt like an outsider. Almost like an intruder. He had not been in the SS for a relatively long time and wasn't quite sure how to interact. He had longed to be at the top for a long time yet, now that he achieved it he didn't feel as if he was actually one of them. There was a professional air to them, something that he could respect.

One of the men rose from the table to go get drinks for he and his friend. Dietrich stared at the grain of the table, feeling openly awkward. Based on the silence, he figured that the other SS man felt the same or just did not know what to say. Instead, Dietrich looked at the blonde singer, and hummed the tune in his mind as he watched her. She wasn't exceptionally pretty but she could most definately be an object of desire. Women were rare to be had in the army in any case.

Boots clacking on the wooden floor brought Wil back from his train of thought. He turned to face the SS soldier who was returning. He noted that indeed he had cherry and peach Schnaps. At first he had thought them kidding. He thought on this a moment. Cherry was the most expensive of the normal German Schnaps and peach was unthinkable. Peach. Where and how did the bartender aquire that and how much must it have cost? Dietrich became suspicious. Peach schnaps was an American thing.

Eyeing the bartender suspiciously he turned his body to face the man with the drinks. The light sparkled in his eyes as he turned them to face the approaching soldier. "Also, was ist Ihr Name? Sind Sie in der 2. SS?" Dietrich smiled.

"Ja, ich bin in den 2 SS," he said, placing his hand down on the table. It showed brilliantly the 'Das Reich' cuff title as the light reflected off the silvery thread. He was filled with pride and forgot momentarily his doubts of the tender who stood perched behind the counter. What better place to spy from? All these loose lipped, drunk Heer fools could be a wealth of information just waiting to be hatched open. "Mein Name ist Dietrich Wilhelm. Aber Sie können mich Wil nennen."

Dietrich popped the lid off his bottle of cognac and poured himself a glass. Cognac was expensive too but not particularly rare. Besides he had some Reichsmarks to spend. His mother had kept him constantly supplied with money, especially after his father's death a almost a year ago. It seemed unbelievable that it had been that long. It seemed just yesterday that he was running through the grass fields near his house and sitting in his father's lap, listnening to war stories. Dietrich snapped from his day dream as the other soldier began to speak.






Translations:

Ja, ich bin in den 2 SS
Yes, I'm in the 2nd SS.

Mein Name ist Dietrich Wilhelm. Aber Sie können mich Wil nennen.
My name is Dietrich Wilhelm. But you can call me Wil.

[∬: Felix Odegaard]

"Ja, ich bin in den 2 SS,"

Felix smiled as the young SS man spoke. Taking a nice, long sip of his Schnapps, he thought of the 2. SS. A brilliant division, Felix thought. He couldn't think of a better division to be in. He was even going to get the chance to meet Rafeal Z. Wolfram, the glorious commander of the Das Reich! on a guard mission soon. Felix rose his left arm also, showing the silver gothic script on the cuff title. "Ach, die herrliche SS!"

Klemens also rose his arm, showing his cuff title. "Also, wo kommst du her aus Wil?" Klemens asked, pushing up his steel rimmed glasses. "Ich komme aus Norwegen, Wil. Sie können von meinem Akzent." Felix butted in, trying not to sound rude.

"Excuse me Stipendiaten, ich, um ein Lied." Giving a wink, Felix started off to the stage on which the blond singer was performing. Taking a ciggerette out from his tunic pocket, Felix stuck it in his mouth and puffed. Felix had just said he was going to request his song to excuse himself. He needed a nice ciggerette.

Listening to the song and finishing up his ciggerette, Felix walked back to the table. Klemens was joking around with Wil and laughing. Felix wanted to get to know this newcomer, so he asked "Also, ich habe nicht verstanden wurden Sie aus Wil?

TRANSLATION

Ah, the glorious SS!

So, where are you from, Wil?

Excuse me fellows, i'm going to request a song.

So, i didn't catch were you were from, Wil?

[deutschlandschutze]

"Also, ich habe nicht verstanden wurden Sie aus Wil?”

Wil looked up, “Ich bin von Strassburg,” he said. Not being interested in the conversation at all, Wil kept a smile upon his face. He could not enjoy this talking with the suspicion of the tender on his mind. Dietrich grabbed his glass and gulped down the remaining cognac within. Wil shot a worried glance at Klemens, who did not look well. Felix was still standing over him a smile on his face.

There was a semi-audible clank as Klemens forehead made contact with the table. The smile had vanished off of Felix’s face. He too did not look well. Standing up, Dietrich supported the soldier’s weight and whispered into his ear, “Ihre Getränke, er stellte etwas in Ihren Getränken! Ich war bereits gegen den Mann misstrauisch, ich habe seinen Safe vor zu sagen, dass ich recht hatte.”

Dietrich helped ease the man back down into the chair. He looked at the empty schnapps glasses. Wil reached down the length of his leg and felt to ensure that his knife was still in his boot. It was and it made him feel all the more comfortable within a very uncomfortable position. “Ich werde zurück recht haben,” he said rising from his chair.

He strode across the tavern, his jackboots clacking on the wooden floor. He approached the bar and leaned against it. Another man was passed out on the bar, a Heer troop. No surprise there. Dietrich pretended to be talking to the man, while listening to the conversation that was taking place. The bartender was talking to two drunken Heer troops although it was hardly intelligible.

The bartender turned around, “Klaus! Ich bin dabei, zurück in drei Minuten auszugehen, um einen Rauch zu nehmen, können Sie die Bar bedecken?” That was all Dietrich needed, he walked calmly across the tavern to Felix.

“Kommen Sie mit mir, ich werde alles unterwegs erklären,” he said, giving the SS troop his arm as a support.


Translations:

Ich bin von Strassburg
I am from Strasbourg

Ihre Getränke, er stellte etwas in Ihren Getränken! Ich war bereits gegen den Mann misstrauisch, ich habe seinen Safe vor zu sagen, dass ich recht hatte.
Your drinks, he put something in your drinks! I was already suspicious of the man, I think it’s safe to say I was right.

Ich werde zurück recht haben.
I will be right back



Ich bin dabei, zurück in drei Minuten auszugehen, um einen Rauch zu nehmen, können Sie die Bar bedecken?
I am going to go out back in three minutes to take a smoke, can you cover the bar?

Kommen Sie mit mir, ich werde alles unterwegs erklären
Come with me, I will explain everything on the way.

[∬: Felix Odegaard]

A large smile was spread across Felix's face as he took another drink of the Schnapps. He was beggining to like this Wil, and Klemens seemed the same.

Thud

Klemens head whacked against the table, his glasses clacking on the wooden surface. Then a burning pain erupted inside Felix's stomach, causing him to clutch it and moan in pain. "Ihre Getränke, er stellte etwas in Ihren Getränken! Ich war bereits gegen den Mann misstrauisch, ich habe seinen Safe vor zu sagen, dass ich recht hatte." Wil whispered in Felix's ear, and then he hurried off.

Spots flew across Felix's vision, and the pain was worse. A burning sensation erupted up his esophogus and Felix vomited onto the floor. Slumping across the table, Felix tried to calm his rapidly racing thoughts. Why would the bartender spike there drinks? Was he American? Jewish? Felix groaned and rolled his head, waiting for Wil to return.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felix didn't know if he had passed out or what, but Wil rose him off his chair. The pain in his stomach was dulled, but still not gone. Hobbling across the bar's floor, he leaned on Wil for support.

[deutschlandschutze]

Dietrich hurried across the room helping Felix along the way. Whatvere was in the drinks, it was having a worse effect on the men that he had thought. He knew fresh air would help and walked as fast as he could manage while still supporting the SS man on his arm. Before exiting the room he stopped a grabbed a chair from a nearby table. Many people inside the tavern were giving them strange and dirty looks. Klemens passing out seemed to have not drawn so much attention, however, the vomit all over the floor most definately had been seen by some. He wanted to get out before the tender went to take his smoke break. Most likely the plan was to let the place clear out, then whoever was left he would capture and interrogate. When he was done, they would most likely never be heard from again.

Dietrich kicked the door open and hauled Felix and the chair out onto the sidewalk. The cool air brushed against his face but he did not mind it so much now. It would more than likely do the pour man some good.

A few civilians passed by glancing somewhat awkwardly at the pair of men. Hopefully they would think they were just normal, drunk soldiers and have no suspicions. One man inquired as to if there was any trouble. Answering that he was just helping a friend, Dietrich made his way around the tavern and found the entrance to an ally. He followed it, chair and Felix accompanying him on his way. It was dark and quiet, shadows were everywhere. Under normal circumstances it would have been a rather frightening place, but now his mind was preoccupied with dealing with the scum. Finding the back door to the tavern was no issue. He was now scared that perhaps the drinks the SS men had recieved had poison in them. None of the Heer soldiers seemed to be this bad off. Did the tender have some special quarrel with the SS? Maybe he knew that the SS wouldn't let themselves become so drunk as the Heer and would provide better information. All he knew is that he was scared for the life of this man, who might be his friend if he lived, and that he was going to get to the bottom of this no matter what it took.

Dietrich put the chair down in the middle of the back ally, then slowly and gently lowered Felix onto it. The chair and its occupant would be in clear view of the man after he took but a few paces. Hopefully this would work to Dietrich's advantage. "Sitzen Sie hier einen Moment, fangen Sie Ihren Atem. Wenn er aus dieser Tür kommt, ist er dabei zu wünschen, dass er nie mit uns panschte." he said quietly. Dietrich heard stirring within the building and figured his time was about up. Slipping his cap back onto his head, he crept into the shadows. He took up a position somewhat close to the door to have all possibilites covered. If the man should try to go finish or investigate Felix he could spring out and grab him. If he tried to flee back into the building or otherwise he could still intercept him. Fairly confident in his spot, Dietrich slipped the knife from his boot and waited for the door to open.

TRANSLATIONS:

Sitzen Sie hier einen Moment, fangen Sie Ihren Atem. Wenn er aus dieser Tür kommt, ist er dabei zu wünschen, dass er nie mit uns panschte.

Sit here a moment, catch your breath. When he comes out of that door, he is going to wish he never messed with us.

[∬: Felix Odegaard]

Felix tried to keep steady as Wil lead him across the floor. The lights and sounds of the taverns swirled around him, conjoining into one big blurry blob. Damn that bartender. Damn him to hell. He dared to poison a soldier of the Third Reich, and he would pay for it.

Felix was jolted from his thoughts as a jingle of the bell attached to the top of the door rang out. A blast of cool air struck his face, and he felt instantly better. Wil lead him down a small alleyway bordering the bar. Felix began to put more weight on his legs, trying not to strain Wil too much with his weight. "Sitzen Sie hier einen Moment, fangen Sie Ihren Atem. Wenn er aus dieser Tür kommt, ist er dabei zu wünschen, dass er nie mit uns panschte." Wil whispered in Felix's ear, and then sat a chair down. Felix immediately slumped into it and began to catch his breath.

The headache began to dull, and his thoughts no longer raced within his skull, and the pain in his stomach no longer seared, but he still felt terribly nauseous. Waiting a few more seconds, Felix's heaving chest was now pulsing regularly again. Felix painfully pushed up from his chair, and whispered over to Wil "Ich werde Ihnen helfen, ihn nach unten." Felix fished in his tunic pocket and brought out a small engraved switchblade he had brought from Oslo, it reminded him of the hunting trips he would make to the forests of Northern Norway. The handle of the blade Had a glass flag of Norway on it, and a scene of deer and bear on one side, and birds and rabbits on the other. The blade was short, but deadly, made of fine steel. It had gutted many fish and game and cut much meat, but now it would finally see human blood. The blood of a traitor to the German cause.

The door swung open, and the bartender stepped out, attempting to light a fat cigar. Felix waited for Wil to signal the pounce.

[deutschlandschutze]

Dietrich's heart sped as the bartender opened the door and stepped out into the alley. The man had a large cigar in his mouth and reached into his pocket to pull out his lighter. He pulled it out and looked at it for a moment before flipping the cap off. It was now or never. Dietrich sprung from the shadows, knife drawn. As he did, he accidentally kicked over a small box making noise, and making him stumble. The bartender turned before Wil could get a hand on him.

Fierce hands gripped Dietrich's knife wrist and fought to hold it back. He struggled desperately for a few seconds. Where was Felix? A leg swung upwards into Wil's crotch, sending him to his knees breathless. Damn it! His knife was being turned against him. A fire was burning in his stomach from the cheap blow and he thought he might pass out from the pain. Why did you have to kick that box? Dietrich spun on his back to make the bartender, who was leaning over trying to force the knife into Dietrich, face the door from which he had come. That ought to give Felix a shot at this beast. He was much stronger than Wil was suspecting. Only due to his fine hand to hand training and many hours of muscle building was he able to prevent himself from being overcome. Even with it, he could not hold out much longer.

Dark blotches started to fill his vision, as his head slammed into the hard alley floor. It seemed like an eternity he had been struggling for his life, but in reality it had occupied the elsapsed time of a few seconds. The same time it took for a Heer slodier to start and complete a yawn inside the tavern, oblivious to the life and death struggle that was taking place.

[∬: Felix Odegaard]

The burly bartender produced a lighter from his stained white apron and attempted to light the cigar. A few seconds that felt like hours went by as the bartender lit the cigar. Then the sound.

Thump

Felix saw Wil stumble out of the shadows clumsily, a box at his feet. The bartender turned and seized Wil with his burly hands, and threw a knee into the poor SS man's testicles. Keeling over breathlessly, the bartender began to force Wil's own blade against him. Then Felix made his move.

Quickly grabbing the bartender's grimy collar, Felix placed the blade of the hunting against his throat, making a small cut only skin deep. "Ich glaube nicht, das Sie verschieben möchten weitere, Dreck." The burly innkeeper paused for a moment, and lifted his death grip on Wil. Then the bartender's elbow flew into Felix's stomach, forcing the air from his lungs and pushing him backward. Thudding into some crates and crushing one, Felix moaned painfully. His back was sore and several splinters were embedded into his back. The bartender leaped on Felix and grabbed his neck, squeezing it hard. Felix could feel his windpipe crushing under the weight of the mans hands, and the hunting knife lay just centimeters away from Felix's outstretched arm.

No it was Wil's turn to save Felix.

[deutschlandschutze]

Dietrich caught his breath as the bartender released him. Wil scrambled back on the crete and regathered his knife. Just as he layed his hand upon it, the bartender swung an elbow into the other SS soldier. Why won't he just give up? Felix went backwards into a pile of crates, the bartender close on him.

Dietrich still felt wobbly on his legs but his new friend needed him now. An energy rose up inside him that could not have been achieved by normal standards. His lungs inhaled a deep breath of air and expanded in his chest. He leapt forward keeping his eye on the target. The blade sunk up the hilt beneath the man's armpit.

The bartender released Felix and he dropped onto the pile of crates. Dietrich withdrew the knife and readied to strike the man again. A giant hand slapped him across the face knocking his head to the side. Dietrich drove blindly with his knife, he felt it connect. The figure of the bartender slumped to the ground and lie still.

Dietrich looked to Felix trying to see if he had saved him in time. Wil's head and heart were pounding and his chest heaved as he took in big gasps of air.

[∬: Felix Odegaard]

Felix clenched down hard on his lip, drawing blood. Black spots began floating in Felix's vision, making him dizzy. Where was Wil? Felix suddenly felt the burly hands around his neck loosen and a mighty scream erupted from the bear of a man who stood above him. Felix saw the glint of metal near the bartender's arm and guessed it was Wil's blade. The attacking man turned around and began a counterattack on Wil.

Felix rolled over onto his stomach and fumbled around for his hunting knife. He was still breathless from the strangling, but at least he could think. His hands grasped the metal hilt of the knife and Felix picked it up. Getting on his feet, Felix started to the bartender attacking Wil. But Wil got to him first. Letting out a ferocious dieing scream, he slumped motionlessly against the wall.

"Gute Arbeit, Wil." Felix said, patting the other SS- man on the back. Felix stuck the knife between his teeth, clenching strongly around the blade. Moving quickly toward the the fallen bartender, he slid his hands under the burly frame of the man. Using the lean muscle built around his arms, he hauled the man off the ground and held his shoulders. "Wil, Sie bitte den Beinen?"

Waiting for the other man to pick up the legs, Felix checked the bartender's pulse. He could still feel blood flowing, so that meant they could interrogate him. "Sind Sie für eine Abfrage?"



TRANSLATION

Good job, Wil.

Wil, you mind taking the legs?

Are you up for an interrogation?

[deutschlandschutze]

Dietrich sucked in a lungful of air and staggered back a bit. He had done it. They had done it. He bent over and picked up the giant's legs. Together they carried him across the alley to the chair that Dietrich had brought out. It creaked as the weight of the man was set upon it.

Dietrich felt blood running down his hands from the wound he had caused. He wiped them off on his trousers before stepping away. Searching in the dark, he found his knife and cap. He placed the cap back on his head and tucked his brown hair beneath it. Stepping up to the man in the chair, Dietrich bent down and looked him in the eyes. Wil put the knife at the man's throat and moved it around slowly, leaving a white crease on his skin. Quickly, Wil ripped the apron of the man and cut a strip off with his knife.

The bleeding would have to be stopped, or at least slowed. You couldn't very well interrogate a dead person. After securing it in place, Wil stepped back to examine his handy work. The bandage seemed to be working alright for now. It would by them enough time to get whatever they were going to get.

The pain had just about stopped its throbbing inside his head. He was beginning to think straighter now. Looking down, he noticed how scuffed and dirty his uniform had become. He patted it down and straightened it beneath his belt, regaining some look of professionalism. As much as he hated to torture other human beings, this man in the chair had tried to kill his comrades. It was necessary to interrogate him to find out just how deep this whole thing was running.

They needed information and they needed it quickly. Most likely, the bartender's friend would get suspicious of his long absence and come in search of him. If they weren't done before then, it could spell all sorts of trouble. Dietrich looked at Felix, "Sie sind derjenige, der er versuchte, Kameraden zu töten, werde ich Ihnen die Ehre geben, das zu beginnen."

Translations:

Sie sind derjenige, der er versuchte, Kameraden zu töten, werde ich Ihnen die Ehre geben, das zu beginnen.

You're the one he tried to kill comerade. I'll give you the honor of starting this.

[∬: Felix Odegaard]

Wil and Felix dragged the main over to the wooden chair that had held Felix, and plopped him down on it. The chair groaned under the weight of the huge man, and Felix worried for a moment that it might collapse. Wil went off and gathered his cap and knife, putting the cap onto his brown head of hair. Felix himself straightened out his hair, hoping to make it look more professional. Felix dug in his left lower tunic pocket and pulled out the gray Field cap embellished with a Death's Head and put it on over his slicked blond hair. Hoping he looked somewhat intimidating, Felix cleaned the blade of his knife on the small green handkerchief that was also folded up in his pocket. The ivory hilt slid in his sweaty palm, and Felix quickly swiped his hand on his woolen tunic, cleaning the sweat off. Felix was ready for a hardcore iinterrogation [b"]Sie sind derjenige, der er versuchte, Kameraden zu töten, werde ich Ihnen die Ehre geben, das zu beginnen."[/b]

Felix nodded, secretly glad inside that he got first blood. Walking up in front of the bartender, Felix tore two more strips off of the grimy white apron and tied his hands to the chair with one, and gagged him with the other. They wouldn't hold if he really tried to move, but hopefully they would inspire fear. Felix slapped the man across his face, blood rushing to his cheek and making the impression of Felix's hand. His eyes fluttered and Felix quickly slapped him again. "Hallo, Bastard!" The bartender blinked rapidly, staring at Felix. "Ich sagte, hallo Bastard!" Felix said, punching the bartender with a light right hook. The bartender broke out of his daze, and looked quite scared. "Wartet! Bitte macht mich nicht heiß!" The bartender pleaded, and Felix chuckled at what a little interrigation can do to a giant man.

But then the door to the tavern swung open, causing Felix to jump. It was the bartender's companion, and he held a large butcher knife. "Wil! Achtung! Felix shouted, afraid for his newfound Friend.


TRANSLATIONS

Hello, bastard!

I said, hello bastard!

Wait! Please don't hit me again!

Wil, look out!