Luther's Last Chance [All Allies in the RWF Camp]

[William Luther]

Luther sat back on the bench on his prison cell. He looked at the shaven head of a private guarding his cell. "Oi, pisshead. What does it take to get some food in here?" he shouted into the ear, barely thirty centimeters in front of him. He looked contemptuously at the grey sky outside of the camp. Grey concrete and metal buildings mixed into it. A runway ran the length of the camp and a handful of planes stood at one end.

A door opened, and a familiar face stepped into the prison complex. Luther sat back on his seat and spread his legs open, bunching both fists next to his thighs imitating testicles. Rhys Bevan, the very boy that had imprisoned William, and who now only had one testicle stepped into the room, an armed guard stepped in with him, aiming his Lee Enfield at the PoW. "Good Morning, one nut. How are the ladies? I hear all you English are hoes, especially your mother."

[Rhys Bevan]

"Your witiness never fails to amuse me, Herr Luther," said Rhys drily. "And off the record, I do not hold a drop of English blood in my veins,"

Rhys strode forward and, with a floursih, unlocked the cell with his lock of keys. He swang the door open and grinned.

"You're free, my intelligent friend," he smiled sarcastically. "Your ransom came this morning. And...now that you are no longer y prisoner..."

Rhys broke off from his conversation and punched the German powerfully in the face. He smiled boisterously towards the private and grinned.

"Take him to meet his...salvation," he smiled. "He shall trouble us no longer!"

Rhys exited the room before the prisoner could kick him in the testicle.

[William Luther]

William spat a drop of blood onto the floor and climbed to his feet. He walked past Bevan, giving him a strong push with his right shoulder on the way past. He spoke to him in a harsh whisper, spit flicking from his tongue with every syllable. "Next time I see you on the battlefield, I will stick your last ball up your arsehole. Do you understand, English man? Now, go back to shagging your sheep and consider yourself lucky you can still walk."

William strode out of the prison block into the fresh air. A truck was waiting to take him to a boat for the trip back to the mainland. He took one last look at the camp before climbing into the truck.

Back in the cell, if anybody had looked at the light on the ceiling, positioned in such a way that it could only be seen by one lying on the bed, a piece of paper was positioned, the corner just showing. The note read:

Greetings fellow PoW,

In the toilet cistern, there is a knife, one that will allow you to escape. Do me but one favour with this, and kill the one they call Rhys Bevan. Good luck.

Heil Hitler

William Luther

[Rhys Bevan]

OOC: I've....trumped...you

Suddenly, a young Private by the name of Tudor charged into the room fearfully.

"Sir, sir, we've found a knife in the toilet cistern!" he yelled.

Rhys sighed relievedly.

"Thank god," he said. "If a POW had found that, he might have tried to kill me. What a coincidence,"

The private nodded towards his superior and Rhys exited the room.

OOC: Cheesy, I know. But I wasn't going to let you win was I?

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

The following CP has been issued:

Bevan - 2CP

Luther - 2CP