────୨ৎ. 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀 imagine (p2)
𝐓𝐀𝐆: fictitious names, kisses, mention of a knife.
Three years had passed, and your life had its ups and downs. Your father had died after living with a malignant cancer that affected his lung. His departure was difficult and painful; he was the only person you trusted, your only family, and the only one who protected you from all the evils of the world.
You were only twenty-two when your life truly turned upside down. They were at war; everyone had lost those they loved, but you were completely alone.
Sitting by the window, with only your book in hand and a cigarette between your fingers, you read each word attentively. The world around you was completely forgotten during the last two hours you had been sitting there. The door to the place opened, and two soldiers entered, walked over to two benches near you, and sat down. You decided to pay attention to their conversation; your eyes remained on the small letters in the book so they wouldn’t notice you were listening to everything.
— The Führer swore that when he found those bastards, he would hang them by their heels from the Eiffel Tower — one of the soldiers began to say, his words filled with contempt.
— He'll throw them to the rats. Last week, the only survivor was Kühn. They massacred everyone else and then scalped them — the other said. It caught your attention: who were these 'bastards'?
After spending the whole afternoon listening to the soldiers' conversation, you returned to your apartment with only one purpose: to meet those who were named the "Inglourious Basterds," a legend among Nazi soldiers.
In the following months, you frequented the same places as the soldiers, listening to their conversations and mentally noting everything that could be useful to get closer to finding them. On a cold night in a small village in the countryside, you wandered through the poorly lit streets; the high heels were starting to hurt your feet, but walking through the narrow streets comforted you in some way. With your cigarette between your fingers, you brought it to your lips, inhaled the smoke into your mouth, and then slowly blew it out.
You spotted a man leaning against a post, smoking; he hadn't noticed you yet, or he simply chose to ignore your proximity. Your steps remained slow and stopped when you stood beside him. He turned his face and looked at you.
Blond hair, a chevron-style mustache, and a large scar on his neck. Fate had decided to intertwine your paths; you had waited months for this meeting, and it happened unexpectedly.
— Are you Aldo the "Apache"? — you said, still analyzing him; his gaze avoided your face.
— How do you know who I am? — he approached, standing in front of you; the sharp iron tip touched the side of your belly. Fear settled inside you; you knew who you were dealing with, you expected nothing less, but the fear still remained there.
— You're famous across Europe; wherever you go, you leave a trail of soldiers' bodies. I want to join the bastards — you remained motionless. He laughed.
— What made you think it would be that easy? I don't even know your name, and what if you're one of them? — he pressed the knife, not enough to cut the skin, but enough to be uncomfortable.
— If I were one of them, would I come like this? Unarmed, in the middle of the night, in an unknown village in the middle of France? — he fell silent, absorbing every word you said. Then, he moved the knife away from your belly and leaned his back against the post.
— You'll have to answer a few questions — men approached you, probably the rest of the members.
— What?! I'm going to distract Colonel Hans at tonight's premiere?! — It had been a year since you joined the Inglourious Basterds, the only woman in the group. Deceiving Colonel Hans was almost impossible; he analyzed every expression on your face, how your tone of voice came from your throat, your posture, even discreetly holding your wrist to feel your heartbeat.
— S/N, you're the only woman in the group; he doesn't know what you look like physically. And we need a distraction to get past him and successfully complete the plan. Have a glass of champagne with him, use your charm — he crossed his arms and leaned against the table; everyone was there. Hugo was sharpening his knife with the utmost patience in the world, Donny was throwing a baseball against the wall, while the rest listened to the conversation in silence.
After thinking for a few long minutes, everyone already knew there was only this option; you just had to accept it. You give in and agree to the plan.
There were only two hours left for everyone to be seated in the red armchairs watching the film Nation's Pride. They had no time for other plans.
When the plan to sneak into the premiere, where the Führer and the other soldiers would be, you already thought about how you would behave, being overly exposed to the dogs, like a rabbit.
You went to an elegant shop where evening gowns were sold and bought the one that would attract the least attention: a long black dress, tight to the body, accentuating your curves, with a side slit that started at the thighs and went down to the foot. Light makeup: foundation, powder, blush, and mascara; finally, red lipstick on your lips. You draped the soft fur stole around your arms and let your hair fall over your shoulders.
You were facing the mirror, looking at yourself, when Aldo appeared at the door of the temporary room.
— Can you help me? — you ask and point to the necklace on the desk.
Aldo picks up the shiny object in his hands, places it around your neck, and fastens the clasp.
— I trust you — he touches your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror; you smile.
Shosanna took you to a hidden entrance at the back of the cinema. You looked around, making sure there was no one in the corridor; you went up the stairs and reached the corridor on the upper floor. The cinema was packed — not that this was difficult, as the cinema was considered small.
You had a view of everyone on the lower floor; your eyes wandered around the hall, looking for Landa.
— Mademoiselle — you recognized that voice almost immediately. You turned on your heels; you were face to face with the Colonel. You coldn't hesitate, stutter, or let your hands sweat.
— Colonel Hans Landa — he holds your hand, bringing it to his lips.
— If my memory serves me correctly, you are S/N? The farmer's daughter — he remembered you so quickly.
— Colonel, how do you still remember me? — you smiled kindly; he returned the smile.
— I cannot forget a memorable face like yours, mademoiselle — he hadn't changed, only his hair a little grayer. But this made him even more attractive.
— Champagne? — the waiter stopped beside you with a tray of champagne glasses. Hans took two glasses, handing one to you.
— I thought I wouldn't see you again — you said, bringing the glass to your lips, savoring the liquid.
— I, on the other hand, wished to meet you — you looked deep into his eyes, never leaving them.
— Don't think I didn't wish for that, darling — he moved closer by a fraction; however, it was enough to feel his breath.
— Not wanting to be rude, but how did you get in here? — your heartbeat quickened. He was testing you, for sure.
— My close friend owns the cinema, and since I love watching movies, she invited me tonight — your answer was clear; Landa nodded positively.
— A movie lover — he took a sip of champagne; for a few seconds, his eyes wandered, and yours did too, observing the hall from the upper floor. Looking for the Basterds, when you see Aldo, Donny, and Omar in their elegant tuxedos walking through the crowd.
Your eyes return to Hans; he was staring at you.
— I would like to have a private conversation with the mademoiselle, if you don't mind — his hand touches your lower back, guiding you to the empty corridor; the movie would start in a few minutes, and everyone was going in the opposite direction.
He opens the door for you; it was a small office, with a desk, two chairs, and some shelves with various books. He closes the door; you could hear the key turning in the lock.
— You may sit — he positions the chair for you to sit, removes your stole, and hangs it on the hook next to the door. He remains standing behind you. You didn't dare ask why he was doing this.
Then, one of his hands moves your hair away, holding it at the nape of your neck — at any moment, he could pull. Your neck exposed to him, like a mere human exposed to a vampire about to sink its sharp teeth into soft skin. He bends down; his calm breath against your skin gave you chills. Without warning, he begins to seal his lips against your neck: long, calm kisses, not worrying about missing the movie. His kisses started at your shoulder, moving up your neck until finally reaching your jaw.
Your eyes close, enjoying the sensation Hans was giving you. His other hand moves up to your breast, grabbing it and massaging it. You let out a moan. His lips pull away, and before you could open your eyes, Hans devours your mouth. The kiss was wild, desperate for more; your tongues danced in an addictive rhythm.
Until he grabs your hair, pulling it back, forcing you to look at him. Now he was facing you, with one hand in your hair and the other resting on the chair.
— Darling, I'll be quick about this, and I want you to answer honestly. You are an infiltrator — he doesn't ask but states. Your eyes fill with tears; your hands were paralyzed; trying to avoid his grip would be worse.
— Colonel, what did I do to make you think that? — he lets out a nasal laugh and moves closer to your ear.
— Your sweet and innocent act doesn't fool anyone, only yourself — you needed to get out of this. You would never give up any of the Basterds; you would die for them; your loyalty was the thing Aldo admired most about you.
— Talk! I know you're one of them — his grip becomes tighter. Now, his hand, which was previously resting on the chair, grabs your cheeks, squeezing them painfully — it will probably leave marks.
— You're hurting me — tears run down your rosy cheeks; Hans runs his thumb over them. Your eyes almost begged for mercy.
— Well, since you're making things difficult. I'll give you two alternatives — he then releases his grip, moves away from you, and leans against the desk in front of him. He admired how you looked even more beautiful crying.
— You can tell me what I'm sure is the truth, so my men will go after your little friends, kill them, and then kill you. Or you can leave them behind and stay with us until the end of the war — Hans crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for an answer.
