They Called Him the Gentleman: Inglourious Basterds Drabble
Author: Bitterfig
Title: They Called Him the Gentleman
Fandom: Inglourious Basterds
Character: Hans Landa
Beta Reader: Fedink
Word Count: 125
Rating: PG
Author’s Note: Set in the years following the war. Written for ib_100 prompt #1: Scars
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any illegal acts taking place within that fiction are NOT condoned by the author. Depictions of any questionable, illegal, or potentially illegal activity in said fiction does not mean that I condone, promote, support, participate in, or approve of said activity. I grasp the distinction between fiction and reality and trust that readers will do the same. I do not profit from the fan fiction I write, and all rights to the characters remain firmly in the hands of their creator
They Called Him the Gentleman
Around Martha’s Vineyard they called him the Gentleman.
He never gave anyone cause for offense.
He was always immaculately dressed, from his polished shoes to his hand-stitched leather gloves. His soft and pleasing voice bore only the faintest trace of an accent.
He was polite and charming to all, from the attendant who pumped his gas to the elderly ladies he always tipped his hat to.
The delivery boys at the grocery store and the waitresses at the diner knew him as a generous tipper.
There was no reason to dislike the Gentleman, to mistrust or avoid him.
Yet people did.
Something about him made their blood run cold.
Maybe it was the scars; the ones etched into his forehead that formed a swastika.
Title: They Called Him the Gentleman
Fandom: Inglourious Basterds
Character: Hans Landa
Beta Reader: Fedink
Word Count: 125
Rating: PG
Author’s Note: Set in the years following the war. Written for ib_100 prompt #1: Scars
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any illegal acts taking place within that fiction are NOT condoned by the author. Depictions of any questionable, illegal, or potentially illegal activity in said fiction does not mean that I condone, promote, support, participate in, or approve of said activity. I grasp the distinction between fiction and reality and trust that readers will do the same. I do not profit from the fan fiction I write, and all rights to the characters remain firmly in the hands of their creator
They Called Him the Gentleman
Around Martha’s Vineyard they called him the Gentleman.
He never gave anyone cause for offense.
He was always immaculately dressed, from his polished shoes to his hand-stitched leather gloves. His soft and pleasing voice bore only the faintest trace of an accent.
He was polite and charming to all, from the attendant who pumped his gas to the elderly ladies he always tipped his hat to.
The delivery boys at the grocery store and the waitresses at the diner knew him as a generous tipper.
There was no reason to dislike the Gentleman, to mistrust or avoid him.
Yet people did.
Something about him made their blood run cold.
Maybe it was the scars; the ones etched into his forehead that formed a swastika.