@vervonal
To say I was annoyed was a major understatement. Not only had I been taken from my post, but I’d been made to do what - I believed - many others were far more capable of achieving than I. They attempted to sell it with my varied skill set, though I was nothing special. I was good at many things, I wouldn’t dispute that. But I was best in the air. In a cockpit. Flying alongside my brothers. Why I was suddenly plucked from a place I was excelling and placed on a solo ground mission? I doubted I’d ever understand their reasoning. Of course, I knew the apparent importance of this one P.O.W. They’d told me enough times. But who was she in comparison to the thousands I could save in the months I’d be spending grounded? They tried to make it sound like a compliment, but I took it as an insult. Regardless, here I was. Trudging through the heart of Germany in a nice suit, blending easily with the others, my plan finally sent into action. I’d been staking out for over a week in a house across the street. It was far nicer than the one bedroom apartment I had back home, and honestly, I could get used to spending some time here. A proper bed and meals that didn’t all taste the same. It was a nice reprieve. Though alas, it had come to an end. I couldn’t return after today, regardless of how successful I was at retrieving the Báthory woman. Gaining entry to the house had been the most difficult, though I could tell straight off that this wasn’t like any prison camp I’d ever seen from the air. Whoever she was, it was obvious the Germans had taken a liking to her. Proper meals, a fancy bedroom. It was almost sickening. Though, despite being nearly caught a half dozen times, I’d somehow managed to gain access to the bedroom I knew had to belong to her, - unless they had a plethora of women hostages in this place, though I’d gained no proof there were any more - the dresses hung neatly in an open wardrobe, makeup was strewn across a vanity. How could this woman possibly be classed as a prisoner? Eyes flicking up when I heard the movement outside the room, my eyes scanned the place quickly, making a beeline for that open wardrobe and pulling the doors closed behind me, only hoping no one would notice the subtle change in the room from when they’d collected her for breakfast. I remained silent all through the encounter, breathing remaining slow and even as I picked up the muffled German through the heavy wooden door. Of course, they’d decide to try and coax her into idle chit chat. Why wouldn’t they? It’s wasn’t as if they knew how uncomfortable it was for the stranger waiting crammed inside her wardrobe. It seemed like an age before those voices fell away. Until a silence overtook the room and the shuffling outside was certainly from only one person. Releasing a slow breath, I eased the door open, my hands raised in a show of surrender, waiting for the woman to notice my presence before letting a single finger drop to my lips, nodding towards the door I knew now would be locked and have at least two guards standing at the opposite side. Ensuring no one entered, or no one tried to leave. Fingers slowly falling to my neck, I tilted it back so she could see clearly what I was doing, the dog tags pulled from beneath my shirt, spinning them slowly so she could see I was an alley. The last thing I needed at this moment was her raising some kind of alarm and getting me killed. Raising my eyebrows softly, I attempted to gauge her reaction. To see if she trusted me. Surely if I was to cause her any harm, I would have done so by now? “You are Ilona Báthory?” I breathed quietly, keeping my hands in clear view to her. I already knew the answer. I’d seen her picture several times. “I’m First Lieutenant Malachai Parker of the American Air Force. I’ve been instructed to retrieve you and get you safely back over the borders of France where I’ve then to accompany you to the United States. I know you have no reason to trust me right now, but I’m afraid I have to insist that you come with me now. The longer I stay here, the higher chance I die, and quite frankly Miss, I rather enjoy living...” I laughed quietly, though my eyes were pleading, a hand held out to her in offering, hoping that she’d take me at my word and we could get the heck out of here before someone realised it wasn’t the woman talking to herself in here.
