Ariadne looked pensively out of the round window of her cinema, eyes casting down to the pavements below.

Large black cars, in a fleet of at least a hundred, were unloading soldiers in uniform, men in suits, woman in
fancy cocktail dresses. The same black and white logo appeared a hundred times over.
<br><br>
Ariadne's eyes positively blazed red.
<br><br>
She sat, contemplating the details of the night in her head. Notable guests? Many. Dr. Joseph Goebbels,
head of propaganda and right-hand man to the Fhrer himself. His 'translator' Ariadne thought with a smirk
Francesca Mondino, as well as world famous German actor Emil Jannings. And those were just the public
faces there were also many high-ranking officers of the S.S, as well as Bormann, and Gring, and many,
many other behind-the-scenes officers. Then, to top it all off, the pice de resistance Adolf Hitler. Adolf
Hitler was going to be at Ariadne Karras' cinema tonight, to watch his protg's masterpiece about his
fucking Hun empire. The girl stood up, bare feet stomping across the floor angrily as she paced the floor.
<br><br>
Little did he know that tonight, he would not be leaving her cinema. None of them would. Including her.
<br><br>
Including her. That was the part that terrified her most. More terrifying than being face to face with the people
that killed her family, more terrifying than conspiring against them on her own territory. Ariadne Karras was
approaching her final breath. Her heartbeats were numbered. And despite her weeks of planning, in that
moment, she knew she was not ready to die. Mentally, she had come to terms with it: this was chance to
make a difference to the course of history. This was to liberate the French, this was to avenge her family. To
not act with such a golden opportunity was as good as signing over victory to Germany. Ariadne Karras was
just a girl. A twenty year old girl, and tonight, the fate of a country no, the world was in her hands. Still,
there was one shy section of her heart that was afraid, and tonight, it seemed to rule her every move. This
would be the last time she got to operate the projectors at her cinema, the last night she would style her hair
and do her make-up. This was the last night she would see Marcel. <i>Marcel.</i> Her stomach ached at the
thought of leaving him. His perfect smile, the way he held her in his strong arms and the worries of being a
Jewish immigrant in France seemed to melt away. He was the only person who knew her real identity that
of a farmer's daughter, a farmer's daughter who had spent a year of her life living under the floorboards of
the LaPadite household. However, at the last moment, the father of the house, Perrier, had given away their
position, and the S.S soldiers machine-gunned her family to death and Ariadne was lucky enough to
survive, running for the hills.
<br><br>
<center>- - - - - - - - - - - -</center>
<br><br>
She remembered those succeeding few weeks as the worst weeks of her life. At only seventeen years old,
she had never strayed far from home without her family, and with no parents to guide her, Ariadne was
smacked into a harsh realisation that she had to fend for herself. Each night, when the patrol cars came
around the back streets, she would hide herself, either in dustbins (a good source for food), or behind boxes,
before sneaking up the sides of buildings to sleep on the rooftops of Paris. It was a beautiful view, a small
mercy for the unbearable cold and hunger she felt, with only a thin coat and dress for shelter. The evenings
when it rained were the worst especially with no spare clothes to warm herself with. She would often walk
around with soaking wet clothing for the whole of the next day, which drew a lot of attention to herself. It
seemed that the harder Ariadne tried to conceal herself, the more people noticed her. This went on for the
best part of two weeks. It was then that Ariadne decided she needed a proper place of residence.
<br><br>
One of the places Ariadne found herself frequenting during the day was a small cinema around the suburbs
of town - <i>Le Gamaar,</i> it was called. There was a small window at the side of the building which was
easy enough to climb to; once through the window, she would stay inside in the warmth of the screening

room, which was nearly always dark and damned near impossible to be spotted in. Naturally, when the
owner of the cinema came round to check the seats and lighting at the end of the day, she had to scarper
away. However, one evening, Ariadne was so dizzy with fatigue and hunger that she had fallen asleep in one
of the chairs and when she awoke, a stern-faced Madame Mimieux was glaring at her, demanding to know
her story. <i>Fuck, shit, fuck. This is the end,</i> thought Ariadne at the time, and despite opening her mouth
to offer an improvised alibi, no words came out.
<br><br>
Even today, a good four years or so later, Ariadne could not decide what exactly had caused her next move.
Maybe it was being awakened so suddenly. Maybe it was the anger she felt at the Nazis for causing her to
live this way. Maybe it was the emptiness she felt after her mother, father, and two brothers had been
murdered. Maybe it was a combination of the three. No words could truly explain why she was here.
<br><br>
Instead, Ariadne Karras burst into tears.
<br><br>
Her memories of the following events were slightly hazed: probably because there was only so long you
could go without a solid meal before your body decided to lose consciousness. However, the next thing she
remembered was not waking up in a cell, or waking up with the barrel of a gun to her face. She was sat in a
cushy armchair, face to face with Madame Mimieux again, the stern faced expression softened slightly.
Ariadne rubbed her eyes, confused. Confused at how a) she was not dead, and b) she was warm, and in...
new clothes? Those definitely weren't her usual brown rags. Was Mimieux actually taking sympathy on her?
No, she couldn't. These were harsh times where people got killed for helping others. That was a ridiculous
notion, and Ariadne extinguished it as quickly as it had come about. It was not until her ears had fully
regained their sense that she realised the elderly woman was actually talking to her.
<br><br>
I know at least six people who have been put up against a wall and machine gunned for sheltering enemies
of the state, and I have no intention of being unlucky number seven, the woman said, pacing up and down
by the fireplace, before turning to Ariadne. How long did you say you have been in Paris?
<br><br>
Ariadne pondered on this for a moment, her voice cracking from lack of use. About two weeks. Madame
Mimieux's piercing stare met her eyes again, quicker this time.
<br><br>
How have you been surviving curfew without capture?
<br><br>
I sleep on the rooftops, she replied gingerly, eyes narrowed slightly in case she needed to make a quick get
away. The exit was behind her. Damnit.
<br><br>
The elderly woman seemed surprised by this. Begrudgingly, I have to admit, you're a clever girl. Her stone
face cracked slightly, a half smile in place. How is it?
<br><br>
Ariadne stared at her silently. <i>You've got no fucking idea.</i> Cold.
<br><br>
The elderly woman laughed loudly, and Ariadne stared at her through furious eyes. I can imagine, she said,
holding back a snort. This wasn't supposed to be funny.

<br><br>
<i>Respectfully,</i> Ariadne spat coldly, no, you can't.
<br><br>
A silence filled the room, as Madame Mimieux regained her composure, the muscles in Ariadne's face and
fists unclenching slowly. I see, the elderly woman said. What do you plan to do?
<br><br>
Ariadne looked down at her knees uncomfortably. I don't. I I mean... I haven't got that far yet. Right now
my priority is staying alive.
<br><br>
Again, another unfathomable expression from the old woman. Well, you need <i>some</i> kind of a plan,
she said matter-of-factly, as if it were as easy as simply going into a shop and asking for a job. Mimieux's
expression turned grim. ....Have you... um... considered... well, you know - ?
<br><br>
Ariadne stared at her, eyes narrowed. I'd rather sleep outside.
<br><br>
Unexpectedly, Madame Mimieux smiled at this, and clapped her hands together. Well then. In that case, it is
settled. You will stay here.
<br><br>
Ariadne's eyes widened. Did she really have somewhere to live? Shit, anything was better than a rooftop.
Still, this offer seemed too sugary sweet. What's the catch?
<br><br>
Mimieux smiled. There isn't one. To put things bluntly - was Ariadne your name? - I'm dying, and I need
somebody to look after me. That's where you come in. We will get you papers. You will be my niece, come
from Brittany to tend to my illness. I will teach you how to use the cinema. And the best part of all this is
after I've gone, the cinema will be yours. You will have income, lodgings, and food. Does this sound like a fair
deal?
<br><br>
Ariadne shook her head enthusiastically, not quite sure what she was hearing. Why... why are you helping
me? It's not that I don't appreciate it, because I mean, I do, more than you could understand but just, why?
<br><br>
The elderly woman smiled again. Because you're <i>seventeen,</i> Ariadne. You're seventeen, and you've
already suffered more hardship than somebody of at least twice your age. I think the world owes you a
kindness, and I suppose this is it.
<br><br>
Ariadne was not quite sure what to say to that. Instead, she just smiled.
<br><br>
<center>- - - - - - - - - - - -</center>
<br><br>

Looking out at the Parisian streets from the large window of the Gamaar, Ariadne contemplated this memory
as if it were only yesterday, the years between then and now blurring into one irrelevant lifetime. What would
<i>she</i> think? Ariadne owed more than her life to Ada Mimieux. She owed her her well-being, her shelter,
and... well, her love. Without living at the cinema, she never would have met Marcel. She remembered the
first time she had laid eyes on him at first, she was astonished. Not many people would have had the nerve
to employ a Negro under the current circumstances. This strengthened Ariadne's respect for Madame
Mimieux tenfold. The two had gotten on well from the start both of them being chastised by a common
enemy, it certainly gave them something to talk about Ariadne much more outspoken than Marcel, who had
learnt it was wise to keep your mouth closed. It was valuable lessons like this and others too that Ariadne
owed to him, as well of course how to project films at the cinema. And then suddenly one day, as the two of
them stood in the foyer of the cinema, discussing the latest Riefenstahl film, he had kissed her. And she
hadn't resisted.
<br><br>
Now, she knew that all good things had to come to and end. Like this last look, for example. <i>Don't think
about it, Ariadne,</i> she told herself. <i>It'll be quick, and easy, and it will save millions of people. Be
brave.</i> And she would. Be brave, she meant. She would be brave as she pencilled her eyebrows on
carefully. She would be brave as she applied her lipstick, and took her last sips on wine. She was brave, as
she shoved two red stripes across her cheeks, and let them sit there for a minute against her stark white
skin, drinking in her appearance in the mirror. She looked like a warrior, like some kind of Apache freedom
fighter. She smirked confidently back at her reflection, green eyes sparkling, before she reluctantly rubbed
the paint along her harsh cheekbones, wishing she could keep it on to make her statement. A few rounds
were loaded into her handgun, and she slipped into a black silk purse. Again, she returned to the mirror.
<br><br>
A black hat waited for her on the dresser, and she picked it up, pacing it delicately on top of her perfectly
crafted hair. Brown spirals fell past her shoulders, and Ariadne gave her hair an encouraging tug. She was
quite pleased with it, despite how long it had taken to style. Finally, she rummaged in the band of the hat for
the laced veil, and smiled when she found it. She spread the thin wire netting between her fingers, before
pulling it down over her eyes and nose. She looked at herself one more time. She was almost
unrecognisable from the girl who had narrowly escaped death four years ago, and she sighed, wishing she
could scrub the make-up off suddenly, wanting to be herself on her last night. Wanting to be the girl Marcel
had fallen in love with, not some tarty imposter who didn't even feel confident enough to project a god
damned film. This veil was supposed to bring her security, almost as a mask yet all she felt was even more
exposed. Her eyes shifted impatiently behind it, and her vision began to swim. So many things could go
wrong tonight.
<br><br>
<i>No!</i> her mind snapped furiously. <i>You are not crying. You're stronger than this, god damnit! They're
all downstairs, and they're all going to walk into your trap. Do it, Ariadne. They deserve it, they do. Each and
every one of them deserves it. And as they look into your face, they're going to see each and every last Jew
they've killed no, they've fucking murdered. And god help them, they are all going to die. Just like Mama,
and Papa, and Bobby, and Amos. They're going to be so proud of you tonight. Show them they didn't die for
nothing, Ariadne. They didn't. They won't. They deserve vengeance, just as much as the Nazis deserve
death. They deserve it.</i>
<br><br>
Ariadne picked the silk purse off the dresser, and walked out of the room, her own words ringing in her ears.
<i>They deserve it.</i>
<br><br>
She entered the cinema, her body instantly moulding against the firm bars of the balcony, eyes already
surveying her cinema if it could be called <i>hers</i> tonight. It was almost discernible under the brilliantly
read banners hanging on the walls, but only just. The infamous swastika was plastered anywhere there was
a free wall space, not to mention on top of all the banners. To top it all off, a gargantuan golden eagle was
hanging from the balcony, pride of place. If they were going for grotesque, they'd sure done it. Ariadne
wrinkled her nose in distaste. In hindsight, wearing a red dress this evening had been a bad idea it almost

showed that she agreed with all this. Which, as most people could tell by the look on her face, she didn't.
Still, hopefully it would camouflage her well with the rest of the gaudy decoration, and so, she headed down
the stairs.
<br><br>
In her peripheral vision, she could see a large group of important people gathering by the base of the
banister. That was most definitely Goebbels and his bitch, Mondino. Ariadne did not resist the smirk on her
features this time. And was that Emil Jannings with them? It certainly was, and as he moved aside, she
spotted a much shorter figure behind him. Shit. It was Damien.
<br><br>
Damien Faustus was quite possibly the most irritating thing on two legs. Not only did he insist on pestering
her every time she ventured into town, he insisted that just because he was a Nazi, he wasn't just some
mindless killing machine, as if he didn't kill hundreds of Jews on a daily basis. And he had done. Well,
enemies to the state of Germany, at least. There was now cinematographic proof. Instead of being punished
for killing the best part of three hundred people, he'd had a fucking film made about him instead. <i>Nation's
Pride</i>, it was called. How fucking sick. To top it all off, the film all the Nazis were here to see this evening
was none other than the one in question, starring Damien himself. Ariadne could not see how he could be
any less annoying on screen, and watching him talk for three hours with frequent showers of blood was not
high up her list of priorities, even if she was projectionist for the night. That was usually Marcel's job but
god forbid, that a <i>Negro</i> might be talented! Ariadne had been forced to do it herself, and Marcel was
making himself scarce behind the screen, preparing final elements for their scheme. She smirked. If the
Nazis hadn't completely fucked Marcel over, they wouldn't be going up in flames tonight. How ironic.
<br><br>
There was no way she was going to go un-noticed by Damien, who seemed to have an Ariadne-radar built
into his overly large grin. Or rather, an Emmanuelle Mimieux-radar, the name Ariadne used in Paris to cover
for her <i>my-aunt-left-me-this-cinema-but-actually-that's-bull-shit</i> story. She sighed as she lifted her skirt
slightly above her ankles, high heeled feet teetering down the stairs. Ariadne was not accustomed to having
to wear shoes for the sake of vanities.
<br><br>
As soon as she reached the bottom stair, she heard an enthusiastic voice calling her false name, and
Ariadne had to try not to glare. Instead, she smiled broadly, as Damien's Emmanuelle Mimieux-radar went off
yet again.
<br><br>
<b><i>Bonjour,</i> Monsieur Faustus. Are you enjoying your evening?</b> she said, her accent
exaggerated to stop her usual sarcastic undertones coming through. How did you say <i>I'd kind of like your
head on my wall</i> in German?

[dohtml]<center>
<div style="width: 375px; background-color: #e1e6f2; padding: 3px; border: 1px solid #b6b6b7;">
<div style="border-top: 50px solid #dd6948;"></div>
<img src="http://i245.photobucket.com/albums/gg49/Claire-Bear-xx/ariadne.png">
<div style="margin-top: -20px; line-height:95%; text-align:center; color: #a6afd7; font-family:times new
roman; font-style: italic; font-size:50px; letter-spacing:-5px; text-shadow: -1px 0 #fff, 0 1px #fff, 1px 0 #fff, 0
-1px #fff; font-weight: lighter; text-transform:lowercase; ">[color=dd6948][/color]see these eyes so
green</div>
<div style="margin-top: -7px; width: 360px; font-size: 7px; color: #9b9b9b; font-family: georgia; line-height:
4.5pt; text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; padding-bottom: 4px;">an ageless heart that can never
mend these tears can never dry a judgement made can never bend. see these eyes so green, i could stare
for a thousand years just be still with me you wouldn't believe what i've been through it's been so long, oh it's
been so long but i've been putting out the fire with gasoline, putting out the fire with gasoline. see these eyes
so green i could stare for a thousand years colder than the moon it's been so long see these eyes so red, red

like jungle burning bright those who feel me near close the blinds and change their minds still this pulsing
night a plague-</div>
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POST HERE HNNNGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
</div></div><br>
<div style="width: 370px; font-size: 7px; color: #dd6948; font-family: georgia; line-height: 4.5pt; text-align:
center; text-transform: uppercase;">THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY <A
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MOO</A> AT ATF. PLEASE DO NOT STEAL.<br><br></div></div></div></center>[/dohtml]

There are certain things in life people cannot go through without becoming best friends. Killing and scalping
Nazis is one of them.
<br><br>
Unsurprisingly, Lieutenant Gabriel Wright and Sergeant Ciel Gray were no exceptions to this rule. Of course,
it hadnt always been this way. And naturally, best friends was not a term either of them used to describe
their relationship. Ciel Gray was Gabriels right hand man, who beat Germans to death with a baseball bat.
From this, most people would probably be able to decipher that their friendship was not exactly conventional.
And it wasnt. But then again, neither was their circumstance. They were both members of the clan of
warriors Gabriel led, entitled the Basterds, who kidnapped and killed Nazis brutally for their crimes against
humanity. After all, that was what they deserved. In a way, that was the two mens common ground. That was
what they spoke about, and occasionally mundane topics like the shitty weather or the food in France came
up. Still, there was trust in their relationship, and that was what Gabriel liked about it. He knew that Ciel
would have died for him, and Gabriel would have done the same. There was an unspoken sort of bond
between the two of them that only came about doing certain things. Killing Nazis happened to be one of
them.
<br><br>
Because of this, it was only fit that they and the rest of the Basterds (well, the other two of them that were
actually alive) convene together before the final phase of Operation Kino would come to fruition. As much as
emotions killed a person, so did solitude, and speaking of death, Gabriel knew that he would have died for
only two things. The first was the cause. Dying saving thousands of innocent Jewish lives was an honourable
way to go, and Gabriel had been saving himself for this night for several years. The other, was his fellow
Basterds. They had stuck with him loyally on this utter fuckpot of a mission. Theyd scalped Nazis with him,
kidnapped countless Germans, and made a real fucking good name for themselves throughout the S.S as a
vigilante force of guerrilla warriors who made death seem merciful. Because of this, the Basterds were
possibly the most feared people throughout the German forces. They were also the most wanted.
<br><br>
So, naturally, their undying loyalty to Gabriel and each other was essential and the group of men and
women had showed him more than just loyalty. He considered each one of them a part of his family, and he
would be sad to leave them all behind today. Still, their lives for the cause, right? That was how it must be.
Despite the teary eyes, and the panicked, flushed faces, the Basterds eyes, collectively, blazed with a
collective passion. They knew this was it. Every single one of them loathed the Third Reich just as much as
Gabriel did, each German corpse they dumped only enough to fuel that passion for a few hours. Tonight,
they had bigger fish to fry.
<br><br>
Namely, Adolf Hitler.
<br><br>

Gabriels eyes narrowed, his fluid mind running over the particulars of the plan as usual, harsh silent stare
piercing the distance. It was all very well the Basterds being feared, but tonight, labels and titles were not
going to help them get the job done. Especially seeing as there was only four of them working on the
operation now. There was him, obviously, Gabriel The Apache, and Ciel, his right hand man and somebody
he considered to be his closest friend. There was also Annabeth Grace, a little girl who, despite
appearances, was deadly with a knife. She was also close friends with the fourth member of the operation,
infamous German actress Elizabeth Taylor, who worked with the British forces as an undercover agent
obviously though, her profession did not come without perks. Between the four of them, they were going to
infiltrate the cinema <i>Le Gamaar,</i> and blow up the cinema, with at least a good three hundred Nazis
inside one of those Nazis being Adolf Hitler. Other guests of note would be Hitlers right hand man, Joseph
Goebbels, head of propaganda. Goebbels in question had created the film that was to be shown at the
cinema that evening, entitled Nations Pride, a film starring one of the newest Nazi protgs, Fredrick Zoller.
Naturally, everybody who was anybody in the German forces would be attending to support this grand
success of Goebbels and the Reich. Gabriel smirked. It was almost laughable that a German celebration was
going to be ruined by only four undercover soldiers, two of which would mainly be serving only as public
faces.
<br><br>
<i>So what the fuck are we doing about Hitler, humh? Is he just gonna be blown up with the rest of the
Nazis, or do we getta do something special to the sick fuck?</i> The familiar voice of Ciel broke his reverie,
and Gabriels eyes were instantly their usual alert self, darting around the small anteroom of the cinema that
they sat in. They had managed to enter the building so far, and that was definitely a start. As long as their
tickets stood up under the scrutiny of whichever S.S Colonel was on security, they were golden. Elizabeth
had managed to call in a favour and pull three extra tickets at the last minute. Gabriel stood up from his chair,
eyes pensive.
<br><br>
<b>Well, now you mention it, I did have sumpm I wanted ter say bout that.</b> Gabriel said tersely, his
thick Southern accent slurring his words together, making them sound less important. Truth be told, Gabriel
detested his accent. It made him sound juvenile, and was impossible to camouflage. God only knew how he
was going to go out there and speak in an Italian accent. Ciel would have to have fuckin brought up that they
both spoke a little I-talian. <b> If this here Hitler thinks hes gon get away with a death jus like one o his
Nazis, then his engines runnin but aint nobody drivin.</b> He turned to Ciel, eyes set. <b>You an Anna
goin into that pre-meer, yeah? Well, half-way through or sumpm, get your asses outta there, and wait
outside the box for the real important folks. Then when you taken out the guards and what-not, you shoot
Hitler as many times as yer can. Now, he thinks the sun come up just thear him crow, so he aint gon be
expectin you two. You got telement of surprise. So dont be fuckin things up and that should all go fine.</b>
<br><br>
He turned to the red-headed woman, his eyes avoiding her plastered leg. Truth be told, he felt kind of
responsible for her injury; if she hadnt been working alongside the Basterds, she never would have gotten
shot in the first place. Still, that was all part of the risk, werent it? <b>As for you, Effy, you an I are gon
socialize and all that. Look pretty, and not much else. You introduce me as some Italian man who caint
speak a god damned word o German, and I wont hafta say a fuckin thing.</b> The woman nodded, a red
lipsticked smile creeping to her features. <b> Whateer you do though, dont go talkin tpeople who aint
talkin to you in the first place. You wanna stay way from all them Nazi chiefs if yer can help it, otherwise
youre just pissin in the wind. You get me?</b> The girl nodded, before moving to the mirror to touch up her
make-up.
<br><br>
<b>Good,</b> he said, and sat back down. Gabriels eyes followed Effy to the edge of the room. If they
werent going to die tonight, hed have asked her out on a proper date. Because hot damn, she was a pretty
piece of flesh and he would have liked her on his arm, for sure. Still, that was all out of the fucking window
tonight. Lots of things were. He was dying for the thousands and thousands of people Adolf Hitler had killed,

and was going to kill if these four individuals didnt put a stop to it. Gabriel tried to focus his mind, but shy
doubts crept into his strong will. What would his parents think of what he was doing? Theyd always taught
him right from wrong, and everybody fuckin well knew that what the Nazis were doing was as wrong as
wrong could be. Hed always had a spark for rebellion, Gabriel had. Raised in a shitty little town called
Maynardville in Tennessee, his parents had been blissfully unaware of where the money to fuel their little
shack of a house was coming from. As far as they knew, Gabriel worked an honest nine to five job, just like
every other church-going boy his age did. What they didnt know was that he worked over time selling
moonshine liquor down at the local speakeasy, because a ) he liked his fuckin alcohol, and he was damned
if some lindberg-smelling Republican shithead was gonna take it away from him, and b ) it paid much better
than working down at the god damned gas station, even if it was brand new from the economic boom.
Besides, that was a good three towns over. To be honest, there were a few corners of America that hadnt
been affected by the boom at all, and his little town was one of them there was never any new trade
because there wasnt anywhere to trade... well, anything, and so being a moonshiner was the best
profession going.
<br><br>
Hed been about fourteen when hed started breaking the law, and it was a trend that would carry with him
until adulthood. When he was twenty-one, he was arrested for assault, and got out a few years later because
as everybody knew, the American judicial system was full of bullshit. Mainly because he hadnt been guilty in
the first place, but whatever. That was life. It was only when he hit about twenty five or six that he decided
that this life wasnt for him; so he packed up all the excess money he had left from his youth, and moved
himself to the other side of the world; France to be precise. Hed stayed with a few kind people whod taken
him in from the Jewish church god knows why he was still associated with that crap, but hey, hed lived in
the motherfucking Bible Belt and hed learnt a little French, been friends with a few people. One guy from
the church, Adrien, was a son of the pastor, and had invited Gabriel to stay with him at his apartment. He
didnt have much, and Gabriel was always thankful to him for letting him crash for a couple of months. It was
real nice of him, and on top of giving him lodgings and food, he even taught him a little French. Maybe it was
for people like Adrien that he didnt completely abandon his ties with the Jewish faith. He was Gabriels first
friend in a new city the two of them shared a bond that hed not felt with anybody else (but would eventually
feel one day with Ciel: not that he knew that yet, of course.)
<br><br>
And then, one day he remembered it perfectly, it was a Wednesday he came back to his apartment, and
there was a soldier waiting for him. A motherfucking Nazi soldier, the swastika on his arm the first encounter
he had ever had with the symbol hed be carving on Germans foreheads in the near future. Naturally, Gabriel
demanded what he wanted, and when it turned out he wanted to take Gabriel away, hed told him where to
go. Maybe, just maybe, he could have avoided what happened next.
<br><br>
Adrien came home, walking through the door, a bag of shopping in his hand and the next thing Gabriel
knew, the kind man with the cheerful face was lying on the ground in a pool of blood, a single gunshot
hanging in the air. Gabriel had seen a lot of stomach churning things in his time; but this was the first
encounter he had ever had with death, and despite his utter shock, disgust and sorrow, he knew that he was
not going to be next. He had run for it.
<br><br>
After hiding away for a month or two, Gabriel decided that it was time to take action. Adrien had been a kind
person, and he certainly had not deserved to die. Gabriel decided it was time to take his rebellious nature up
a notch. And here he was, a good five or six years later, about to face off with the head honcho of the pack,
Adolf Hitler. Was he nervous? Of course. Was he excited? Fuck yes.
<br><br>
<b>Alright, guys an dolls, its almost time to get out there. I figure I should say sumpm right about now, so
Ill go ahead an do it.</b> Time to rally his troops for the last time. <b>Yall have been real good to me, as

soldiers, or spies, and as friends too, so Id just like to say thanks to each and every one o yer whos stuck
this out. We aint gon die in vain tonight, folks. We gon die, knowing that we stopped some real bad people
doin some real bad... stuff. We gon change the course o history, and we gon save thousands, and
thousands of innocent Jewish people. People like us.</b>
<br><br>
Gabriel paused slightly, not really aware just how much his words resonated with the truth in his head.
<b>Each an every one of you is a hero tonight. Dont forget that, yeah?</b>
<br><br>
There was a silence. Gabriel cleared his throat. This corny movie speech had just gotten awkward.
<br><br>
<b>Right. Lets go to work.</b>

[dohtml]<center> <div style= "width: 400px; background-color: dddddd; border-top: dotted 2px; borderbottom: dotted 2px; border-color: 550000; padding-top: 7px; ">
<div style= "width: 375px; background-color: 181818; padding-top: 4px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align;
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[IMG]http://i245.photobucket.com/albums/gg49/Claire-Bear-xx/gabriel.png[/IMG]
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