"Rebel Angel" 2/?
anonymous
August 22 2009, 00:57:06 UTC
Writer!Anon here. Sorry bout the wait for this part. Next one soon.
It was the chief Volkspolezie agent. He was holding the Rebel Angel by the arm. Behind him were more captives held by Volkspolezie and Russians. The head Volkzpolezie turned to Ivan and spoke.
"These seem to be the instigators. Especially this one." He gestured towards Rebel Angel.
Gilbert stepped forward and fixed the girl with a detatched gaze. "Then I should question this one." He kept his voice carefully cool.
Ivan raised his brows, but shrugged. "I don't see why not."
Gilbert was relieved inside. He had been afraid the Russian wouldn’t give him a chance with the girl. He took her by the hand and led her to a more quiet sitting room, far from the Volkspolezie and Russian men. He had barely locked the door, when she turned on him, clawing at his face, fighting tooth and nail to get away. It took him several seconds to subdue her. Eventually, he had to tie her hands behind the chair he was forcing her to sit in. She still tried to bite him when she could.
Finally, when she was subdued, Gilbert faced her. He studied her face for a few long moments, trying to figure out what it was that made him want to save her. She was beautiful, yes, this was true. But it wasn’t her beauty that made Gilbert lose his breath. It was the way she carried herself, fierce and proud, never backing down. He could tell that she would do anything for her country. She would do anything to save him, her country.
The set line of her jaw reminded Gilbert of himself. He too, would do anything to save this country; to save his people; to save himself. He looked down into her pretty eyes. The peculiar shade of blue-grey met his own blood red eyes, unwaveringly. She was not frightened of him. She would not let herself be frightened. Gilbert admired this trait in her. He also admired the way her eyes lit up fiercely as he studied her. He admired the way her blonde hair flowed down her back, cascading in waves as she tossed her head. Gilbert admired the wickedly proud expression on her pale, beautiful face, and he admired the pale scar shining over her left brow. He wondered who had given it to her. One of his men? A Russian? Or was it something else entirely? He was seized by an insane urge to find out. But he didn’t have much time. He shook his head, as though coming out of a trance. If he was going to do anything, he needed to act now.
“Go ahead and tell me your name.” Gilbert fixed her with a persuasive glare.
“I am Aloisse Brandt. Fuck you, Komrade. Burn in hell.” She spat at Gilbert’s face.
Gilbert smirked. “A fitting name. ‘Famous warrior’ ja? And by the way, I’m no fucking Commie. I want these goddamned Russians out of my country as much as you seem to.”
She regarded him warily. Gilbert met her stare evenly, hoping she would see the truth in his eyes.
“Who the hell are you then?” She asked, narrowing her eyes.
Gilbert swallowed heavily.
“Who am I? I am Gilbert Weillschmidt. I am your country. As fucked up as this may sound, I am the human embodiment of the great nation of Prussia. That’s who I am.”
Aloisse could only stare at him in confusion. Gilbert wondered whether he’d screwed up by telling her the truth. Somehow, he sensed that she would believe him.
It was the chief Volkspolezie agent. He was holding the Rebel Angel by the arm. Behind him were more captives held by Volkspolezie and Russians. The head Volkzpolezie turned to Ivan and spoke.
"These seem to be the instigators. Especially this one." He gestured towards Rebel Angel.
Gilbert stepped forward and fixed the girl with a detatched gaze.
"Then I should question this one." He kept his voice carefully cool.
Ivan raised his brows, but shrugged. "I don't see why not."
Gilbert was relieved inside. He had been afraid the Russian wouldn’t give him a chance with the girl. He took her by the hand and led her to a more quiet sitting room, far from the Volkspolezie and Russian men. He had barely locked the door, when she turned on him, clawing at his face, fighting tooth and nail to get away. It took him several seconds to subdue her. Eventually, he had to tie her hands behind the chair he was forcing her to sit in. She still tried to bite him when she could.
Finally, when she was subdued, Gilbert faced her. He studied her face for a few long moments, trying to figure out what it was that made him want to save her. She was beautiful, yes, this was true. But it wasn’t her beauty that made Gilbert lose his breath. It was the way she carried herself, fierce and proud, never backing down. He could tell that she would do anything for her country. She would do anything to save him, her country.
The set line of her jaw reminded Gilbert of himself. He too, would do anything to save this country; to save his people; to save himself. He looked down into her pretty eyes. The peculiar shade of blue-grey met his own blood red eyes, unwaveringly. She was not frightened of him. She would not let herself be frightened. Gilbert admired this trait in her. He also admired the way her eyes lit up fiercely as he studied her. He admired the way her blonde hair flowed down her back, cascading in waves as she tossed her head. Gilbert admired the wickedly proud expression on her pale, beautiful face, and he admired the pale scar shining over her left brow. He wondered who had given it to her. One of his men? A Russian? Or was it something else entirely? He was seized by an insane urge to find out. But he didn’t have much time. He shook his head, as though coming out of a trance. If he was going to do anything, he needed to act now.
“Go ahead and tell me your name.” Gilbert fixed her with a persuasive glare.
“I am Aloisse Brandt. Fuck you, Komrade. Burn in hell.” She spat at Gilbert’s face.
Gilbert smirked. “A fitting name. ‘Famous warrior’ ja? And by the way, I’m no fucking Commie. I want these goddamned Russians out of my country as much as you seem to.”
She regarded him warily. Gilbert met her stare evenly, hoping she would see the truth in his eyes.
“Who the hell are you then?” She asked, narrowing her eyes.
Gilbert swallowed heavily.
“Who am I? I am Gilbert Weillschmidt. I am your country. As fucked up as this may sound, I am the human embodiment of the great nation of Prussia. That’s who I am.”
Aloisse could only stare at him in confusion. Gilbert wondered whether he’d screwed up by telling her the truth. Somehow, he sensed that she would believe him.
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