Flirting With the Wind

Nearly Two Years Later Somewhere In Nazi Occupied France……….

I found myself with another man, fighting alongside of him every chance that I got. Never had I figured that I would be part of the resistance fighting the Nazis like I was now with Jean Claude but it worked for me because I had so much anger inside of me towards the monsters of the Third Reich.

Jean Claude Lorillard taught me everything I had to know about fighting. He spent years in Asia taking up many different ways to fight; combining them together for his own choosing. Jean Claude did not have to take me in the way he had but he did so anyways. To describe how he looked wasn’t very hard for he had a very distinct look.

His left eye had a large scar that went from his eye brow down his cheek; his hair thick and pulled back in a dark grey short ponytail almost like a samurai. He was built very tall and muscular to anyone that ever seen him they’d be immediately intimidated by his overbearing presence and intensely dark eyes that seemed like two orbs of onyx. By no means was he approachable in any way shape or form.

The man took me in when he could have left me to die in the cold. Jean Claude was my mentor, my reason for living and keeping on fighting back. He pushed me to my limits and then some, making me stronger than I could have ever imagined. For the most part he would always be harsh and a bit cold when it came to training but I knew it was because he knew I could do better. And for his unwavering determination to make me the best I loved and hated him.

His hatred for Nazis was beyond all sanity and it began to rub off on me, my warm nature had turned quite cold and bitter. But I had changed with the time, seeing and feeling too much death, too many loved ones taken in such a cruel war. Together we killed mercilessly and with such precision it was startling.

And so that brought me here, Nazi occupied France Jean-Claude and I had made our place at an abandoned two story house. Jean Claude and I had just come back from taking out a troop of Nazis twenty miles out. We had our place stocked up to the brim with many different weapons ranging from machine guns to hand grenades, everything was in places only we could find them. Jean Claude received a slice to the arm whilst I got out fairly clean. He sat in the chair whilst I put some of our new weapons in the hiding spots and relined the rig of an alarm system that was composed of wires around the perimeter of the house. If any line was hit the bells would sound in the house warning Jean Claude and I of a visitor. As I finished off stitching Jean Claude’s arm the bells rang. We looked out the window carefully to see three men in civilian clothing holding guns and walking towards the house cautiously.

“I’ll take the upstairs and shoot them with the rifle if need be, you wait for them on the porch and do your thing,” Jean Claude says. I nodded putting back on my rustic looking fedora hat and put my long trench coat to cover the array of weapons I carried. Jean Claude went upstairs and I went outside cigarette dangling from my lips. Casually I sat on the swing that was on the porch keeping my head down as I smoked the cigarette. My large trench coat and pinned back hair gave me the appearance of a man from afar.

“You think he speaks English?” a deep German accented voice inquires.
“I don’ fuckin’ know,” an annoyed American accent retorts. I got up from the swing and walked off the porch heading right towards them without fear. That is what it had come to with me; I had no fear for I had nothing left to lose.
“Hey back off,” they order pointing their guns at me. I smirked as I took a long inhalation of the cigarette and threw it down smashing the remains on the green grass bellow my feet. Blowing out the smoke as a soft chuckle drew from my lips.
“You don’t want to be pointing those guns at me,” I say in an eerily calm voice as I raised my head to get a better look at them. The one in the middle stood tall and burly with brown hair, the other to the left of him short with big blue eyes and the one on the right stocky with sunken in brown eyes and distinct nose.
“Are you American?” the one with wide blue eyes inquires. They seemed to be caught off guard.
“You are on my territory and your life in my hands I’ll ask the questions,” I state offhandedly.
“Excuse me?” the middle man says in his deep voice. They faltered in their stances and I began disarming them swiftly. I got the middle one first knocking him down by hitting him on the sides of his legs with his own rifle then spun around wielding the rifle like a baseball bat hitting the stocky one in the stomach as I stole his weapon then rushed at the smaller one of the group kicking him promptly in the throat causing him to drop to his knees immediately as he held his throat. All men in pain I took their weapons pointing the guns at them.
“On your knees, hands behind your heads, now tell me how many more are you,” I order as they muttered curses whilst putting their hands behind their heads.
“Perhaps that won’t be necessary lil’ lady, I’m Lieutenant Aldo Raine, those are my men ya got hostage,” I heard a Southern accent say loudly from a distance.
“Do not take a step further, first tell me why you are in this territory,” I retort loudly.
“We’re the Basterds,” the stocky one with sunken eyes says with a bloody nose.
“Shep let them in,” Jean Claude says from the door.
“What?” I counter incredulously.
“I said let them in, they aren’t the enemy, they are like us,” he states calmly.
“Fine but I’m not giving back their guns until I am certain,” I reply with a huff as I lowered the guns from their heads. A few more men came from the forest headed by the Lieutenant Raine and a rather muscular man with a devilish smile and dark hair holding a baseball bat on his shoulder casually.
“Now you’re my kind of woman,” the one with a baseball bat states in a Boston accent looking at me.
“Who said I was a woman?” I respond seriously.
“I am Jean Claude this is Shep she tends to have a strange sense of humor,” Jean Claude says shaking hands with Lieutenant Raine. Lieutenant Raine had a distinct scar that ran across his neck and held his face in an odd manner. I shook his hand fiercely looking into his dark blue eyes gauging his character through handshake.
“Lieutenant Aldo Raine, you two the ones that slaughtered that camp about twenty miles back?” he responds as I let go of his hand.
“We have no comment on the matters, dead is dead it doesn’t matter how it got that way,” Jean Claude states.
“Sergeant Donny Donowitz,” the one with a Boston accent introduces himself to me.
“Shep,” I reply curtly shaking his hand.
“That’s a different name, what is it short for?” Sergeant Donowitz inquires.
“Short for none of your fucking business,” I snap annoyed.
“I wouldn’t talk to Shep just this moment, she lost her dog last run, damn Nazi shot it, why don’t you go blow off some steam kid?” Jean Claude suggests turning to look at me. I felt my right eye twitch in annoyance both from the forward man with a baseball bat and the fact I had lost my dog Winston. Walking off I headed towards the back of the house to throw my daggers at a tree trunk. Once in the back I set the new guns on the table one by one.

I began throwing my daggers into the tree violently and angrily one after the other. All the while I could here the Basterds and Jean Claude gathering in the kitchen to talk. The window being open I could hear the conversation.
“She yer daughter?” Lieutenant Raine’s southern accent inquires.
“Who Shep? No,” Jean Claude replies.
“How’d ya find each other?” he asks.
“I found Shep when I was trekking through the orchards, she was fighting off a bunch of Nazis whom didn’t like the fact she had been smuggling Jews across enemy lines, get this, kid had a slug in her shoulder and she was fighting like it was no thing, wasn’t much of an aim but hell she had some fight in her, she’s a quick learner that one, we’ve been paired up for over a year now and I’d trust her with my life,” Jean Claude states as I kept chucking the daggers at the tree.
“She really this mad over a dog?” Sergeant Donowitz questions in his obnoxious Boston accent.
“Shep’s mad about a lot of things, hell I reckon she has reason to, but we don’t speak of our lives before the war, ask no questions hear no lies is what Shep says, she’s a good girl but I’d keep clear she has a temper,” Jean Claude muses. Ask no questions hear no lies, I repeat in my head as I pulled the daggers from the tree. Placing them in their slots of my customized belt I went back to the table to grab the weapons and head back inside. I set the weapons on the table where Jean Claude, Lieutenant Raine, and Sergeant Donowitz sat whilst it seemed the rest of the men settled in the living room. I shrugged off my trench coat to reveal the straight leg brown pants that were tapered and olive green tee shirt both of which showed that I was indeed a woman. Lastly I took off my hat causing my hair to fall down unexpectedly. I seemed to have lost the elastic band that tied it back.
“Alright suppose I’ll try to be hospitable now, would you two like something to drink?” I say taking a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet.
“Sounds good to me,” Sergeant Donowitz replies as I grabbed the glasses and began pouring the whiskey evenly into each cup. I slid the glasses to each person and sat down at the table drinking my share of whiskey quite quickly. When drank from the glass my eyes peeked over to the next room to see the back of a very familiar looking head the head turned to reveal the profile of the beautiful man that haunted my thoughts. I choked on my whiskey momentarily and then chucked the empty glass at Hugo Stiglitz’s head.

“Son of a bitch!” I exclaim as I stood up so quickly the chair fell over and the glass hit the wall beside his head. Hugo turned to face where the glass had come from and his blue green eyes grew wide with shock. Years of anger and pain washed over me and charged at Hugo full of so much fury no one knew what I would do.

Angry could not even describe how I felt at that very moment and without any hesitation balled up my left hand into a tight fist and slung it, colliding with Hugo’s jaw with such brute force it knocked him to the ground. I proceeded to kick him in the testicles with my steel toe combat boots making him groan in pain, just as I was about to hit him again I heard the bells. Without another thought I grabbed a nearby machine gun that was hidden behind the curtain.

“Anyone of you go out there I’ll fucking shoot you,” I growl looking at the room of men that just stared at me shocked as I left out the door slamming it shut behind me. It was time to kill some fucking Nazis.