Chapter 4 La Sournois Broussard

March 3rd, 1946

0700

La Taverne et L'auberge Du Renard Sournois'

Vichtenstein, France

The next morning, the squad met downstairs. With the exceptions of Garcia and Gadot.

"Look I don't know what happened last night. But ya still look like shit. Take a day, get some rest. And Gadot, stay here with Garcia. Not that I don't trust you. Well actually I don't. But aside from that, can't just leave you own your own right now." Derringer had said to Garcia and Gadot as they had been walking away from breakfast.

After that Derringer had returned to the hotel bar, and began to talk with Genoa about what had occured the prior evening.

"So whats your thoughts on this then Sarge? Are these kids losing their marbles? Or what?" Genoa said as he sipped on a cup of coffee.

"Maybe we were all just tired from the journey. It wouldn't be the first time soldiers had sleep deprived induced hallucinations." Derringer said to Genoa after he had explained last night's strange events.

"Yes, but these seem rather well in sync to be considered hallucinations. People generally don't have the same hallucination at the same time." Genoa lamented. "Besides, we went without sleep for 3-4 days at a time when the war was still on. Now way one little car ride did this to them." Genoa said finishing his coffee. He and Derringer got up walked out of the tavern. It was a sunny yet cool morning outside. A light breeze and the scent of spring swept the air. The others where already outside waiting for him.

"We can talk more about it later Derry, we got to back to business. Fantanski, you're going with me. Derringer, you've got Horowitz, Hightower and McHarrigan." "

Doukas, you Dancer, Broussard and Henry will take the southside and its surrounding areas. We will regroup in the tavern at 2100. There we will debrief and make a plan of action for tomorrow evening. Questions?"

"Sir, what about Garcia and Gadot?" Whined Broussard

"Yea and? What about them?" Derringer smirked. "Don't worry about it."

Broussard seemed a little put off, but nevertheless he put his hand down and stepped back.

"Sir, isn't this a lot of work for just some wolves?" Spc. Henry whined.

"Think of it as just extra training. Our unit is not a traditional one. As we all know. We need to be well trained and sharp for whatever mission we're sent on. Sometimes its disrupting Nazi armor operations, and sometimes its bopping wolves in a forest. Either way. This will be easy." Genoa answered.

Derringer looked at him sideways. Judging by the dossier he had seen, he wasn't entirely sure easy was the correct word. At least, not yet. The group split up. Derringer group headed north, Doukas squad south, and Genoa with Fantanski took to the Tavern and surrounding areas

I.

Doukas and his team headed south into the marketplace. The sun cascaded and bathed across the cobblestone streets as they approached. The smell of freshly baked bread and just newly tomatoes danced in the air.

"Alright men, line up on me. No one talks to anyone without my permission. We're going to get the best intelligence we can. And we are going to bring it back to Lt. Genoa before Derringer has a chance to take shit. You guys fuck this up, and theres gonna be extra cleaning details in places that will leave you fucking confused when we get back to the garrison." Doukas shouted.

Broussard cringed. Doukas was short and fat. He had dark hair, a piglike nose, and a pale pasty skin tone. In short ? He was a dick and his men hated him. Anytime anyone in the unit found themselves in his squad, they groaned silently. The only reason Doukas had been transferred into Lt. Genoa's squad was because the previous man in his position, Cpl. Farragut, had been shell shocked by German artillery during their operations in the ardennes. Farragut had returned to the states for medical treatment and therapy and Doukas had been with them ever since,

"Doukas the doofus rides again." Broussard whispered to Dancer, who in turn snickered. As if hearing something, Doukas snorted like a pig and turned.

"What was that? Over there !" He sprinted off, waddling like an obese seal chasing after a fish. "Oh it's just a dog."

"Cpl, that's a Border Collie." cringed Broussard.

"Uh duh, and were do you think border collies came from? Wolves. Idiot !" Doukas said attempting to sound justified.

Henry rolled his eyes. He desperately wanted to just skate by on this mission. At first he was delighted. But then, tragedy struck. He had been assigned to Doukas for the day, only a mere five minutes ago. His hopes and aspirations for an easy day had all but flown away.

They approached the marketplace. Doukas was attempting to communicate with the locals. He had been speaking slowly, and making grandiose gestures by waving his arms and hands. Many simply laughed at him. It seemed the village had gained a new idiot. Finally Broussard, (after watching Doukas make a fool of himself for a quarter of an hour) decided to offer assistance.

"Ay Douf- er uh Corporal, I can actually speak french you know. Do you want - " Broussard began but Doukas interrupted him.

"What? Why didn't you tell me before? '' Doukas grabbed Broussard by his blouse. Broussard quickly removed his hand and pushed him away. "First off, Don't fucking touch me. I don't know were the fuck you got the idea you was gonna do that. Second, you told us not to speak to anyone unless told to. You never asked."

Doukas shrugged all this off, "Fine, you're my translator now. Let's go." Doukas continued with Broussard into the market. Henry and Dancer followed.

"Bruce, how do you know french?" Dancer asked.

"Man, I'm from Cajun country. We all know a little French down there." Broussard answered. He was aggravated. But, it was important he did not direct his anger towards Dancer. After all he'd done nothing.

Broussard translated several conversations for Doukas. He had to be careful not to translate directly what Doukas was saying. He had a feeling if he did so that this nightfall they would be outside the inn with torches and pitchforks. Truthfully, he couldn't have blamed them. Between wolves and a conversation with Doukas the choice wouldn't have always been obvious to him.

Finally, Broussard noticed a young dark haired woman watching him intently from one of the fruit stands. He made his way over to her.

"Good morning miss, name's Staff Sgt. Broussard with the US Army, this here is my inbred subordinate, Pvt. Doukas." Pvt. Broussard said in french. He jerked his thumb towards Doukas who had just turned his head and let out a big sniff like a pig hot on the trail of truffles.

"Ah, I see ." The woman replied. "Do you prefer to speak in English?"

"Non- non ! It would be an insult to your culture!" Broussard replied nervously looking Doukas to see if he understood "Parle anglais" which (to Broussard's relief) he did not. "We were sent here to assist the village. Do you know anything about the wolf attacks outside of your village?" asked Broussard.

"Wolf attacks ? No wolves here. But several soldiers and villagers say they've seen a large strange animal in the forest. They say it looks more like a large cat than a wolf." The woman answered him, sounding a little confused.

"Really? More cat-like? Have there been any attacks recently?" Broussard went on.

"Maybe, I'm not so sure. You should speak with Gerald. My uncle. He had several livestock go missing last month." the woman pointed to an elderly man standing behind a fruit stand. He was thin, with grey hair and a thick beard.

"Got it. And thank you very much madame." Broussard said. The woman blushed a little and smiled. Broussard explained the information to Doukas, who merely grunted and said "Yea sure, cats. Right." and they moved on to speak with the elderly man unloading frresh fruit from a truck that the woman had pointed out.

"Good morning sir, are you Gerald by chance?" Broussard began.

"Oui, Je suis Gerald. Et toi?" Gerald replied.

Broussard explained the same situation as he had done with the woman before and asked the man if he had any additional information to offer.

"We thought they may have been wolves at first. But we don't hear any howling at night. At least not from many animal. And we have had more attacks. A month ago, my chickens were taken ! Their were feathers, blood and entrails all throughout my garden ! The trail lead into the forest. But I am too old and too feeble to follow them. And just last week, a family lost a young child. The boy was last seen at dusk, and was returning home. But he never made it. All we could find was a bloodied scrap of his neckerchief, and a piece of his white and blue striped shirt on a fence post outside of town." Gerald went on sadly, he took a hankerchief out from his breast pocket and began to dab his face.

"He was only about five years old, a beautiful child with golden blonde hair. We really hope he'll turn up, but as time goes on ... it's not looking good. The family has been inconsolable, they've been praying at the chapel ever since for his safe return. Every day they are there." Gerald folded the hankerchief back up and placed it back into his pocket.

"Thank you sir, I know this is difficult. But every bit helps. Once again, I'm Staff Sgt. Broussard. If anything else comes to mind please find me, or my man servant Doukas at the Taverne Du Renard Sournois. And again thank you." Broussard shook the man's hand. As they were walking away,

Gerald called out "I hope you find what you are looking for ! And thank you Sgt Broussard !"

Broussard waved back and the group proceeded to begin walking back to the hotel.

II.

On the other side of town: Derringer, Horowitz, McHarrigan and Hightower had been canvassing over the area and with little luck. It had been several hours of walking in circles. And several hours of awkward conversations that always seemed to end with "Je ne parle pas anglais".

"I hear "je ne porle pause angleese" one more time I'm gonna cook one of these frogs." McHarrigan spat.

"Easssy eassy. With that attitude none of them will porle zee english." Derringer moaned.

"I thought English was supposed to be pretty commonly spoken?" Hightower said bewildered.

"Yea in cities, not as much in the country. Plus gurantee, most of these people would rather not talk to us anyways. Ya get down to it, the only difference between us and the germans? We were invited." Derringer took out his canteen and took a long swig at this.

Finally, they came to a small stone church on the northside of town. "Horowitz, you speak a shit load of languages. How is French not one of them?" Derringer groaned almost as if pleading for Horowitz to magically learn French on the spot. "Derry, I'm just a Jew from an uppity family outta Brooklyn. I know German, Hebrew and English." Horowitz shrugged. "If we'd have been 10 miles to the east, I'd have been your golden goose for the day." Derringer was looking around. About one hundred yards away, he saw a small stone chapel. It was about two stories tall, with a steeple and bell to top it off. An old wooden double door made of oak marked the entrance.

"Let's check that olde chapel. That might find us something out. Priests and nuns usually have good information on local events." Derringer said. They stood outside of a small stone chapel. The letters "Die Kapelle der Heiligen Gracia" were painted in black on a wooden sign outside. "What's it to say, my precious Jewish-German princess?" Derringer asked in a joking manner. "That's prince ya simpleton. Not that you'd know what a princess looks like either, you haven't seen a pair of tits since you left your mother."

Derringer, McHarrigan, and Hightower roared with laughter. "Alright, alright. You won that one. Now seriously, what's the sign say ?" Derringer said, wiping a tear away. "The Chapel of Saint Gracia'' replied Horowitz. "It looks old, this stone work is from before the first great war. The sign looks newer though." Derringer examined the sign more closely. On the back, he noticed a wood carving that had been engraved with a knife. The carving resembled that of an imp like creature. Derringer rubbed his moustache for a moment. Pondering what this creature was, and why it had been engraved on the back on the chapel sign.

"I see you've met one of our local legends!" Cried a man with a thick German accent behind him. "Local legend eh? What of?" Derringer asked with a slight tone of curiosity in his voice. "The Alp ! Surprised you haven't heard of it. It's a mischievous creature. Said to haunt the dreams of tormented souls. Tis a trickster, and they often shapeshift using the power from their tarnkappe, er forgive me. I mean their cap." The man continued. There was an awkward pause. Derringer looked upon him. He was older, with baggy skin, grey hair and a thick grey beard. He was dressed in a brown robe. Clearly he was a monk. He was smiling ear to ear the entire conversation. "Ackt, forgive me. I hope I haven't bored you. It's been a while since we've gotten visitors. Especially since the war. It's not often I have a chance to tell folk tales anymore. Most of the locals are bored to death of it."

Derringer was amused. "Not at all my good man, we normally wouldn't be here. But we were dispatched from Berlin to handle a nasty pack of wolves in the area. I'm Sgt. Derringer, and you are?" The man crossed his arms and said "goot ! Zere have been many attacks in the forest to the north of here. And lately, zey have been getting out of hand. They took a young boy just recently. Many soldiers gone missing before during the war. And before I forget yes. I am Brother Paul. I am with the zee chapel we stand outside of. Won't you all come in for a cup of coffee und biscuits?"

Derringer looked back at his men. They had not eaten yet, and they were all nodding. "Thank you, that would be nice. Show us the way." Paul led them into the chapel. Inside, there were several stained glass windows depicting numerous legends. The main centrepiece depicted that of St. George slaying a wyvern. Paul led them to the back of the chapel, into a dimly lit cool room. They seated themselves at a large wooden round table in the centre of it.

Paul served each and every one of them. He poured coffee, and he brought out several loaves of fresh baked bread and biscuits. "Zee baker south of the Inn always makes extra for us. And this coffee has been brought from my home in Bavaria. I hope you find it appealing." The coffee's aroma was strong and dark. Surely one whiff of this could have raised the dead Horowitz thought as he sipped his cup. "Brother Paul, you had mentioned about a folklore creature before? Called an Alp? I actually study folklore in my free time. Can you tell me more about it?"

"Ah yes, the alp. It is a creature of mischief from olde folktales. Mostly forgotten these days. Supposedly, it would appear at night, upon zee unsuspecting victim's chest. They feed off dreams, sleep and sanity." Paul went on.

"Interesting, so what do they in general look like?" Horowitz asked, rubbing his chin.

"They have many forms, they are known to shapeshift. Mostly though, they take the forms of a black shadow, or of an imp. But they can also be other things, a butterfly, a dog, a wolf. Anything they want, remember they are tricksters by nature."

"Wow ! Thats intriguing ! I had no idea. They have similar creatures in Arabic mythology, have you ever heard of the -" Horowitz began, but Derringer put his hand up.

"Ay, I don't mean to be rude padre, but we're kinda on a time limit here. You and the kid can finish talkin about the witches and wombats later. Right now, I need to hear about them wolves?" Derringer said as he put a hand on Horowitz's shoulder.

"Ach yes, the reason you are brought here in zee first place. Excuse me, I often gets un distracted. Yes. The wolves." Paul began. "The attacks started around 5 years ago. Mostly at first ve noticed the occasional cow or chicken go missing. And then, they became more brave. Hunting travelers and the lone soldier away from post. The attacks all happen north of here. In the thickest part of the aschten woods." Paul concluded

"And do you have any idea how large of a pack we are dealing with?" Derringer asked. He knew wolf packs could be anywhere in size of three to seventeen on average. "Nobody knows, because nobody has come back," Paul said softly. "Wait. What?" Derringer stammered. "There have been other hunts. But none have been successful. The French Resistance tried multiple times to find the wolves but they were unsuccessful. And the local villagers who occasionally went off …" he paused for a second and took a breath. "They did not return." another awkward pause ensued. "More coffee?" Offered Paul cheerfully. "No thank you, we wouldn't want to overstay our welcome. And it's getting late. We have to regroup back at the hotel." Paul smiled and said "Acht yes. Quite righten then."

The group got up. They were just about to leave when Paul called out to them again.

"Ah ! Not so fast ! I have something that may interest you boy.'' He motioned to Horowitz. Horowitz followed him into an adjacent room. In the room there were many grand bookcases lined all the way to the ceiling.

"Yes, this may give you a good read." Paul pulled a book out from one of the shelves. He blew the dust off of it and rubbed it clean. He handed it to Horowitz. It was an old book, the cover was faded so as the title was difficult for Horowitz to read. He could just make out the words "die mystische Bedrohung unter uns" or as Horowitz understood it to mean "The Mystic Menace Among Us".

Horowitz peered through the book. It was written in German, but he could read it. It had a wide variety of in depth information on various fictional creatures. It was like nothing he had ever read before.

"You seem like the type that would appreciate a good fairy tale. Never let go of zat.". Brother Paul smiled.

Brother Paul and Horowitze rejoined the group. Paul reached into his cloak and pulled out a small stack of prayer cards.

"One for each of you ! Our church emblem, and please give the extras to your friends. They are said to bring good luck ! Saint Michael is our patron. If you find yourself around here in late September please stop in !" Brother Paul smiled and placed a card in each of their hands. They thanked him graciously and set out to return to the inn.

III.

Lt. Genoa and Cpl. Fantanski walked down the stairs and through the lobby of the inn.

"Aight Frank, where do we start ?" Fantanski said in a sing-song voice.

"Lets begin with the bar area. See if we can catch a break there, then we'll check around the surrounding areas, and finally I want a word with that desk girl again." Genoa replied.

"Oh ho ho, your type ? Blondes eh? Definitely my stride." Fantanski chuckled.

"No, not at all. You know I prefer the brunettes. And before you get your hopes up, I saw a ring on that finger. Probably a no go for you too." Genoa lit a cigarette as he finished saying this. He puffed a thin cloud into the air. They were standing outside the front entrance of the Inn.

"Aight Frank, tell me though. Why am I with you today instead of Derry or Doukas?" Fantanski asked all of a sudden.

"Simple, I need Derry to turn up valuable intel and get a lay of the land. And although I don't speak" Genoa answered. He liked Fantanski. He was only a little younger than Genoa. Fantanski had been a mechanic in Pittsburgh before joining the war effort. The guy had a way about himself. Fantanski was quick with wit, his troops liked him, and he could leave the rest of the unit in the dust when on their morning runs. Truthfully, the only reason he didn't send his two corporals out as normal that day was because of the information he had given Derringer during the trip. He expected Derringer to come back with something of

more value given what he knew.

"Ha, well I don't like to talk bad about my peers, but I think I get where you're coming from." Fantanski added. They continued around the bar. They saw several men drinking in by the tables. All were German. Then Genoa saw the bartender. It was the french desk maiden from the night before.

Fantanski nudged Genoa and said "If only Garcia and Dancer were here now eh?" And Genoa could see why. She was wearing a tight, but low cut scant top revealing the cleavage of two perfectly rounded breasts. Fantaski was staring at them as though he were a child looking at a sunset for the first time.

For Genoa, it was a little revealing for his tastes. He averted his to the womans hands and noticed a silver ring with a strange canine like animal skull signet made from a silver and black metal alloy that Genoa seemed familiar to Genoa. He stared at it, trying to think of were it came from. The barkeep noticed him staring at her ring and smiled. She subtly covered her hand, and winked at Genoa.

Genoa looked up at the womans face. He took note of her angelic facial features, her golden blond hair and her deep blue eyes. Fantanski looked as if he had just seen God.

She locked eyes with Genoa and said: "Bonjour Lieutenant, how are you today? Come to try zee local brew?" She pushed forward a wooden mug of beer.

Genoa and Fantanski took seats by the bar. Fantanski lit a cigarette, and the desk maiden turned bartender brought him an ashtray. She pushed forth a second mug of beer. Genoa picked him up by the handle and drank. It was chilled but not cold. Closer to being room temperature, unusual for his tastes but he actually liked it. It gave the beer a different bolder, more well rounded flavour and it was something new. After pondering about it, he preferred it this way.

"Aaaaaah, das gut." Genoa exhaled. He had been needing a good beer for a while now. And finally, as it touched his lips and tickled the back of his throat, he smiled warmly. And he couldn't have smiled even if he'd wanted to. "Gut wirklich schön, dass es dir gefallen hat!" The Bartender smiled. "Sorry, "das gut" is about all I know. That and "mutterficker." Genoa laughed. "Oh! Forgive me, it gets very lonely out here. And not many of the villagers are fluent in German." The woman smiling. Fantanski shot a glance sideways at Genoa.

"What's your name ?" Fantaski asked. "Oh me ? My name is Aimalee. And you?" Aimalee replied.

"My name is Fantanski. And I'm surprised you didn't ask before. That's quite the ring isn't it?" Fantanski said with a wink and a smile as he gestured towards her hand. Aimalee lifted her hand up revealing the beautiful animal skulled ring again. Upon a closer look, it looked as though it was the skull of a wolf or possibly a wolverine and it had two small rubies made the eyes. And around the band had been engraved what appeared to be many thin tree branches. Fantanski kicked Genoa under the table. Genoa saw it too. He was beginning to connect the dots. Something wasn't adding up.

"Oh ho ! I am glad you like it. My brother gave it to me. A Christmas gift. He's a silversmith in Paris."

"I see, quite the brother you must have. Hopefully he wasn't too affected by the war." Fantanski mused. "Hey actually. I need a diamond ring, for my sweetheart back home. I know Paris pretty well. Why don't you tell me what street he's on and I'll give him a ring eh?"

Aimalee turned slightly pale at this. "Oh I am sorry, I do not know zee street he is on. Only that he is somewhere in Paris." She was starting to sound almost a little flustered at this.

Fantanski then spoke "Tu ne parles pas un putain de mot de français n'est-ce pas ? Vous mentez pute nazie." He finished speaking and smiled ear to ear.

Aimalee seemed shocked at this. She abruptly said "Oh you speak so nicely. But excuse me, I must be getting some fresh air. And perhaps a cigarette." She stood up and walked out of the bar and into the alleyway outside.

"What did you say to her? Genoa asked

"I said: 'Youse don't know a word of french do you? You fuckin nazi whore.' I think we need to have a word with "Aimalee" outside." Fantaski said as he finished he beer and stood up.

At the protest of the cook, they ran out the back door, and into the alley. It was a narrow alley, with only ambient light. Aimalee had started to walk to the main street. She looked back and saw Geno and then she started to run, but in the darkness she collided with a solid figure.

"Not so fast lady. I've got a few questions." Fantaski said standing over her.

"Oof mein gott! You've scared zee the christ out of me!"' Aimalee cried as she fell back. She put her hand down her blouse as if she was clutching her chest. Fantanski dropped his guard for half a second and was about to help her up. And that's all it took, from her blouse all in one horizontal motion she drew and cut across his face with a switchblade.

Fortunately Fantanski was quick enough on his feet, he jumped back. The wound was shallow but still he bled profusely.

"Fuck me ! You raggedy bitch" Fantanski cried. But he got up. Just then, he heard the woman wimper and groan, and then Fantanski heard the hammer of a pistol cock.

"Do not move, scream or say anything. Or I'll give you a second asshole to wipe." Genoa said, thrusting a colt .45 into the deranged woman's lower back.

"Why are you hurting me? I am just a woman. What do you waaa faaaack" Fantanski slapped her with his backhand. Blood began flowing from her lip.

"Oh mein gott !" " Du schlägst mich !" She gasped.

"Damn right and I'll do it again if you don't start talkin." Fantanski retorted. He wasn't entirely sure what she had just said. But he understood enough to know she didn't like what he was cooking.

" I have done nothing ! I am mere a barkeep ! A humble inn worker ! Keep your filthy hands to yourself you disgusting pollack ! Leave me alone ! I am but an innocent woman !" the woman demanded.

"Yes. A woman who speaks German but not French, in France whilst wearing a Waffen SS signet ring. Not one of the more common ones. Otherwise I'd have recognized it sooner. But I recognize it now. Thats an okkultesstaffel ring."

"Okkultesstaffel?" Genoa asked.

"Yea, they where those fuckin spooks we always heard rumors about. Supposedly they were looking for a supernatural way to win the war. Sounded like total bullshit. But the guys who said they saw them, always described the same ring. Silver, with an animal skull with black metal inlays." Fantaski murmured wiping his bloody face off on his sleave.

The woman smiled. "Acht. And I thought I was safe 'ere. Bastard Americans. Both you and your whore mothers will know- WHAP" She started to sneer but Fantanski smacked her with the open palm this time.

"Ay, that's enough." Genoa told Fantanski. "What's your name, your real name this time?" Genoa asked as he pressed the barrel of the gun farther into her back.

"Greta Von Hildergard. Wife of zee Count Hans Von Hildergard." She groaned spitting out a mouth full of blood.

"Put a bullet in her. She's nothing but low level Nazi scum." Fantanski encouraged. He loathed nazi's in general. But in particular, he truly despised anyone remotely related to the Schutzstaffel (SS) agents and any of their subdivisions.

"Hans Von Hildergard, 3rd in command to the Alphonse Wafflesturgen is that correct?" Genoa said quickly. He ignored Fantanski's previous suggestion. Genoa didn't want to draw attention in this setting. And two soldiers pluggin an innocent looking girl (although she was far from that in reality) would be difficult to explain no matter what.

"The very same ! And that's Viscount Wafflesturgen to you !" She spat blood and cursed.

"What are you doing here ? And where is your husband?" Pressed on Genoa. Greta turned her head to spit on him, but right as she did Fantaski connected with a nice right hook.

"Uuuurfgghhh, you're not supposed to hit a woman you know, boy !" Greta moaned, and she spat out a tooth.

"Nazi's ain't men, or women. Barely human even. Nazi's a nazi. And I'll fuck a nazi up any given sunday." Fantaski spat back.

"Now tell him what he wants to know before I really get going." Fantanski warned cracking his knuckles.

"I am here to rendezvous with mein husband. He had to be on his way from … " she broke off but Fantanski raised his fist again she continued "Audtria ! He came from Austria. But he had to stop in Bavaria on final business. We where to leave quietly for Brazil when he got here."

"Very well, all valuable information. Are there any more SS units operating in the area? Surely you're not alone." Genoa asked.

"Nein nein, no more of us. The Americans pushed us out of the region years ago when they took back the provinces for France ! And if I wasn't alone, do you really think I'd be a bar hop in some rundown country tavern? Stupid impure pigs, slimey scum, both you dago and and your filthy polish slave, bastards, how did we ever ! Ever ! Ever, lose a war to impure inbreds like yo-" WHAM. Greta did not finish her rant. Fantaski caught her with a left hook that time. She slumped over unconscious.

"I'd had enough at 'filthy polish slave'. Hadn't seen a true believer in a while. Forgot how nasty they could really be. Sorry if I overdid it there Frank." Fantaski exhaled.

It was easy to forget just how nasty, barbaric and fanatical SS officers or associates truly were. The worst part of it all (at least for Fantanski) was that they really believed in the crazy and hate filled rants they so often spouted. That combined with the psychotic ideology that they were destined to create a "perfect" world led by a supreme race had made them not only the greatest threat to the American dream, but the entire world's freedom.

Fantaski took a second to wipe the blood from his face. He held a cloth close until the bleeding had passed.

"Ya did go overboard. But, if it wasn't your fist, it would've been the butt of my pistol." Genoa admitted and he shrugged.

"Right, well you can't change the inevitable I guess. So now, we gotta nazi" Fantanski sighed.

"Nazi Prisoner rather." Geno corrected.

"Right, either way. Allied command certainly wouldn't want us to just release her." Fantaski said. He lit another cigarette under the moonlight of the alleyway.

"Really when you think about it you saved me the trouble. We couldn't carry her back kicking and screaming all the way. The town would have chased from here to Stuttgart. For now, let's take her back to the transport truck. Secure her in ropes, post a watch and turn her over to the local authorities. They in turn can arrange official transport back to Allied HQ. Should be simple enough." Geno said thinking that this was the most logical option.

Otherwise, what were they to do ? Tie the woman up, in the inn at which she worked and potentially kidnap her back to Berlin the next day? Oh and if the papers found out they would have a field day with this. They could have made for Berlin that night, but there was still the primary mission objective the next day to deal with. And knowing Houser, he wanted the primary objective dealt with first, even if it was something trivial. Much better to let the local police handle this. She would be waiting for them once they got back to Berlin. In a much more quiet cozy and controlled jail cell too.

"Alright then, let's move her." Fantaski said, pulling on her arms over his shoulder. Genoa holstered his pistol and did the same.

They moved quickly, but not at a running pace. They gave the impression to those they passed by on the way to the inn, (where they had parked the truck) that their friend had drank too much and became ill.

"It bothers me Frank, one thing." Fantaski said.

What's that?" Genoa asked.

"This ring." Fantaski pulled the ring off Greta Von Hildergards hand. The animal skulls ruby eyes and the tree branch engraving gleamed in the moonlight. "It's different from others. I wonder if it denotes something else ? Ya know, there were many different subdivisions of the SS. We can never be certain we got to them all." Fantaski mused slightly bewildered by the ring's evil aura, as well as its beauty. He tucked it into his pocket.

Just then, with the truck just in view. Greta's eyes opened. She raised her foot, and out from the bottom of her stiletto heel sprang a knife. She slammed her foot down into Fantaski's, causing him to scream in agony.

"OH FUCK ME SIDEWAYS" he shrieked. "HOW MANY BLADES DOES THIS BITCH FUCKING HAVE !" He slumped over and clutched his foot in agony. The blade had gone all the way through. Greta next focused her attention on Genoa. Fantaski was howling in pain.

She ducked low and gave Geno a great kick to the groin. Nothing in life could prepare him for something like that. Genoa hunched over in pain. She pushed him to the ground and quickly broke the knife off from her shoe. She pushed back and ran. Once Greta was about 20 yrds away she pulled out a grenade and pulled the pin.

"FUCK RUN !" Screamed Fantanski. But Greta didn't throw it at them. Instead she slammed it into the ground and it exploded in a plume of blue flames. Then, she was nowhere to be seen.

"What the fuck kind of grenade was that? Did she just incinerate herself ?" Genoa said as collected himself and tried to chase after her. Hunched over himself, he hobbled after her like a newborn doe. But he couldn't catch her. Fantanski came up behind him, limping.

"Do you see her ????" He panted as he gasped for air. That had been a very painful run, for both of them..

"No, she ... gone? What the fuck She could have ran in there?." Genoa pointed a finger into the deep black forest.

"Well ! After her !" Fantaski moved to enter the woods.

"Stop. She just fuckin stabbed you, and I won't be runnin like this anytime soon. Damn, I'm worried about my boys. Hell of a fuckin kick. It's dark, and we have to regroup with the others. Plus who knows what else that nasty woman has planned if we catch her. That forest screams ambush. If we go in after her, she's in control. She won't get far. Especially at night. We'll get her tomorrow. Now let's head back." Genoa wasn't one to walk away from a fight. Unless the fight was rigged against him. And in this scenario, they certainly had no advantage in going after Greta Von Hildergard.

He helped Fantanski walk back with him to the Inn. Supporting him so he wouldn't have to walk on his bad foot. Soon, they were back. And walking up the steps to sit by the fire in the lobby. There as they limped in together, sat the rest of Whiskey Company. They had been waiting for them.