Just My Luck [open]

[betty]

2:39 AM
Allied Camp

Betty awoke with a start as the walls in the room shook. She hurried out of the bed and slipped outside with nothing but her nightgown and a jacket over her as she witnessed the sky gone ablaze.

Soldiers hurried past her, some with pails of water in their arms and others with a startled look to know as much as she does what is going on. Two of the officer barracks were licked by flames, and the incessant sirens did nothing to quench the alarm in the people.

Elizabeth needed not to be told what had to be done. Although she had transferred to the station that afternoon, she lived a good half of her life immersed in military drill. No seconds to lose, the corporal assigned the men before her into units and separated their tasks for the fire and for the injured. Betty herself intended to go with them, but she found it odd that the main gates barred open where they supposed to be closed. Could the enemies have gotten through? she questioned the worse; however she spotted no Germans among the soldiers as far as she identified.

Eyes glazed in serious intent, Elizabeth knew it’s better to be safe than sorry. She rushed back into her room to give a quick change so at least she would look proper when she gave this news to her commanding officer, but just as she had her back to the door, Ms. Riedesel felt a presence there.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

The sky was indeed ablaze, Artillery fire from the Allied positions had hit an onslaught of Nazi Bombers rendezvousing overhead, caught off-guard by the might of the AA (Anti-Air) Gun shells that were plummeted at them from the ground. Captain Wolfram was amongst a platoon of his men, the faithful SS to the Death - ironically, when the shells began to bounce from the cascading cockpit in which Captain Wolfram was situated amongst the pilots, his men were first to open the bay doors and jump without orders… Way off their landing zone… Fools.

It wasn’t long until, indeed, Mr Wolfram’s air transport had taken too many fatal hits, rendering the aircraft immobile not too far from the Allied Barracks beaming with life, and so, that explained why Captain Wolfram’s body silently moved into the room, his uniform a little musky from the engine fuel that’s spluttered against his body due in the crash - his piercing blue eyes widely awake, pumped full of adrenaline and his rugged manly fingers coiling around the auburn smooth rifle in which he raised to point towards the young woman’s back.

Rafael’s foot held against the bottom of the door, as one of his hands eagerly and hastily left the rifle butt to clunk the lock on the mechanism, before grabbing his rifle again and slowly stepping forward to utter out, in a firm German Accent “Shh… If Z-ou scream, I V-ill not be pleased” his once fine blonde hair, now a musky grey from the soot that’d erupted from the engine burning on the aircraft. As Rafael slowly stepped sideways, keeping his gun trained on the young woman, his face winced a little, the apparent limp in his step giving away that he was hurt. Presumably from the crash.

“I V-on’t hurt you…” he uttered some more, as if to plea for her assistance without hostility, as he slowly began to lower the rifle, his body leaning back against the wooden frame of the wall, finally taking a long inhale to catch his breath from the exhaustion of running and trying not to be seen had done to him. Why on Earth he’d go to an Allied Barracks in the first place would rack’ most people’s minds… But Rafael had to find a radio, to warn his fellow comrades of the hostile terrain, the Allied Camp, the AA guns they had! Their Intel said no such thing of mighty air-support the Allied had. So he had to warn the others, or at least find a plane for himself in the camp? This was an Airfield after-all?

[betty]

Now what's not the time to rejoice the confirmation she dreaded to know. Germans did overtake their base, and what's worse a German captain, if she was not mistaken from his uniform, stood across the room standing near of her escape.

Betty whose fingers deft from her years dedicated to the study of the telegraph swiftly found a way to retrieve her knife unnoticed from beneath her cloak. As far as she could tell from the dim lighting, the Axis was fit to render her immobile yet his voice pleaded to her as if injured in some way. The young woman could not bring herself to harm him, no matter what her superior had to say. Maybe it's because Elizabeth was not brought here to fight the physical side of war. But she decided to play along with his antics just so she could give herself time to escape him.

She wrapped around the Axis, not because she had any desire to help, but rather her weapon of choice needed to close the range between them. Her soft sapphire eyes captured his wondering what help could she possibly do for him.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

The noises outside had Captain Wolfram on edge, as his eyes darted towards the door now and again, making sure it was locked between each glance, reassuring himself he was more secure than he anticipated - Well, as secure as could be, in an enemy base, particularly with a peculiar looking woman before him, who didn’t utter a word to his compliance in helping… But rather, approach him?

The Captain’s body tensed ever so slightly, as he felt her embrace through the thick of his uniform fabric, his injured leg straining to remain straight, as he leaned against the wooden boarded wall behind himself, finding his antics in being the strong male slowly fade - her eyes burning holes through the sockets of his eyes, as he slowly gaped open his mouth, finding her beauty subduing his task at hand every so slightly, his mind drawing blank conclusions to what he was about to say or ask… But instead, let out bales of silent breaths.

“V-adio…” he eventually muttered out, before shaking his head, breaking away from the ‘Medusa’s’ gaze, his head dropping a little to look at the flooring, as he stood straight and brushed passed the woman, firmly holding onto the submachine gun hanging at his hip (sorry inconsistency here, I haven’t a rifle anymore,) he acquired. The woman’s room was elegant smelling, surprisingly, compared to those of other bunks and areas he’d already snuck through - musk and dirt, a manly odour.

The Captain slowly came to a stop, roughly within the middle of the room, as he suddenly reached out for a wooden chair planted by a cabinet side and dragged it towards the door, fumbling the back of it against the handle, as if for an extra measure in securing the door - before turning to face the young woman again, his hand slowly running over his weaponry, sadistic thoughts running through his mind for a moment, as he gazed down her slender petite figure, grinning to himself. “Apart from Z-he V-adio, I could use a hand with Z-y leg” he uttered somewhat, as he winced again, looking down the tarnished uniform, a dark patch, the crimson red un-see-able through the black of his uniform…

[betty]

Two inches. That’s all it takes for the blade to run through and cut the man’s thread of life, but Elizabeth could not do it no matter how rational it all sound. Her luminous blue eyes gazed on his wondering of the loved one he might had, and the sudden shift of his gesture nearly startled the poor lass. Her hand, already wavering slightly out of confusion, lost its mastery over the dagger, and the knife slipped to the wooden floor with an echo that resonated silently, losing its voice to the outside disorder.

She could not pick up her knife. No. That would be too obvious and decided to leave it the way it was unnoticed under the dim light. A strand of hair cascaded over her face as her head tilted to the doorway where a chair was secured. It was not the end of things but the thought of being held captive with an unknown stranger disgusted her. She brushed away the ebony locks that covered her eyes and moved closer to the captain rather intrigued when he spoke of his leg because it surprised her to find the robust figure injured.

Helping an Axis soldier was not what she had in mind but if she wanted to expose him for who he is this was the only way she could think of.

Rolling the pants to disclose the fleshy wound underneath, Elizabeth gently compressed a slightly wet towel to control the blood flow before she wrapped his leg with her clean scarf. She wrapped another round of her scarf around it to secure it, and as she did so Elizabeth muttered some words only the SS officer could hear.

“Das radio ist fünf ausbuht Norden von hier befunden. Ich werde helfen aber wir müssen schnell bewegen.”
(The radio is located five barracks north of here. I will help but we have to move fast.)

OOC: I’m writing on a writer’s block. >< Please, please forgive me!

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

The Captain’s ears fell on ‘deaf’ doors, as he obviously didn’t hear the slight twang the knife made by buckling from off the wooden surface. More so, his attention was diverted to outside, not particularly seeing the young woman as a threat - especially as his hand lingered around the handgrip to his cumbersome silver metallic weaponry at his side, ironically a death-trap at night, as the shimmering silver gave away his position quite easily, but up close, it was a menace to be reckoned with. German engineering in both vehicles and weaponry wasn’t to be surpassed so easily.

Tensing, was all the Captain could do. The young woman’s nimble fingers rolling up his trouser leg had the Captain biting his lower lip, wincing slightly now and again from the peeling of the fabric against his blooded wound. A reminder it could’ve been worse, right? The cold wet towel didn’t seem so bad, but the warmth and illuminate softness of the scarf had the firm headstrong Captain softly whimper beneath his breath. A woman’s touch.

Unconsciously, without realising to start with, he’d listened intently to the young woman speak in German - before his eyes slightly widened and his hand be knowingly grasped her wrist, dragging her abruptly to eye-level, away from his wound. “Sie sprechen Deutsch -- ein Spion!?”[/I] Captain Wolfram said between his teeth a little, realising how she said she’d help him, before he slowly loosened her wrist, also realising how he’d grabbed her, his eyes wondering down a little as he continued to mutter out “Erbärmlich…” his trust differing a little, as he began to conclude what side she was fighting for? A young woman, fluently speaking English, seemingly looking like she was English or American; before her fluent tongue in German and helping him suddenly back-lashed his trained thoughts.

As Captain Wolfram watched the young woman from his prideful position, untarnished by the wound, he yanked down his trouser leg (over the makeshift bandaging) and glanced between the young female and the door once more, wondering whether she was to be trusted? Her plan on going to the radio could’ve been a trap… She could’ve been an Allied Spy, rather than a Axis Spy… Or a double agent… If at all a spy!? For all Rafael knew, he fluent tongue in both languages had his suspicions raised, heck, the SS Officer couldn’t even speak proper English himself. His words rugged and accent half broken when he tried to speak the foreign language to him.

Staring at the young woman once again, the Captain became subdued to her beauty somewhat, as he let out a hauled sigh from the bottom of his lungs to say “Sie sagen solchen Dingen, die mein Vertrauen widersprechen - für wer kämpfen Sie wirklich?” the Captain wanted to know, whether it was a lie or not, he had to hear her verdict, before stepping out of the door into harms way. His piercing blue eyes laid upon her and his scrawny dirty blonde hair messily hanging about his head, whilst his body perched outwards, awaiting her to utter something… Or make a move…


Translations:[/b]

Sie sprechen Deutsch -- ein Spion!?
~ You speak German -- a spy!?

Erbärmlich...
~ Sorry…

Sie sagen solchen Dingen, die mein Vertrauen widersprechen - für wer kämpfen Sie wirklich?
~ You say such things that contradict my trust - who are you really fighting for?

[betty]

What was she supposed to do? Her round soft eyes averted his gaze, quietly sensing the strum of her racing heart. She could not understand why her heart rushed a beat to the way he grabbed her hand and with thoughts fixated on the ground the graceful decoder walked away crossing her arms and listening to the dull treads of her silent pace. A spy? Elizabeth observed him from the small distance between them when the question he inquired struck her his suspicion was raised because of a simple confusion which flag her loyalty was pledged to.

“Ich kämpfe für unser Vaterland…” (I fight for our Fatherland…) Betty murmured through the shouts of men beyond the stilted walls. She had no way of telling him how it really did not matter which country she was on because to which side won all is lost, for war has its way of transforming men to monsters.

But she realized it was no use saying it as it was—what banner she was under or the opinion she had of them—because if she could not get him to trust her it would be hard to compel him to follow her into harm’s way.

“Vertrauen Kapitän, Sie mir nicht? ....We muss bewegen jetzt, während Chaos unseren Weg verhüllt hat, für ich befürchte, dass sie das Radio einmal sie schwärmen würden, haben gerechnet, wie unsere Brüder gelandet hatten.”(Captain, do you not trust me?....We must move now while chaos cloaked our way, for I fear they would swarm the radio once they figured how our brothers had landed.)