#i dont share my art or writing on here cause im sooo gdmn self conscience

[averagespawn]

Wrote a fanfic...might make more and add to it...there is an oc.

The cold…it was so cold.

  Her first memories were in the bleakest part of the year.

 And it was….so, damn, cold.

 The mattress she woke up on was resting on a wooden floor with dirty stone walls. The only noises reaching her were the brisk footsteps.

Her eyes were still blurry, but she could make out figures standing in front of her. Two hefty figures in grey uniforms and two in white coats.

“They…. were…talking? Mumbling? “What were they saying…?” She thought.

One of the figures in a white coat knelt next to her and shined a bright light into her eye, then moving over to the next one. Then got up, said something to the other white coat, and left the room with the others, but not before locking the metal door behind them.

 Her head was pounding, spinning, and doing everything that it was not supposed to do. She struggled just to roll over and get on all fours before collapsing on her stomach. She felt weak, as if heavy weights were strapped to her arms and legs.

She lied there for some time before trying to bring herself up again, using the dusty stone wall to support herself. It was taking a lot of energy just to get on her feet, leaving her winded and aching all over. She held this position for a while before taking one step away from the wall, allowing her to support herself.

“Ich sehe, Sie wach sind,” said a deep, old voice.

She opened her eyes and looked around, vision still a bit blurry, but able to make out details much better. Towards the door it was a figure in a white coat accompanied by a man in a grey uniform, who was armed with a rifle.

“W-what d-did you sss-say?” It was hard to talk as well…. anything other than laying down was difficult to do.

“Ah! Englisch. Vhat I said vas, I—see—that—you—are—avake,” the deep, old voice said slowly, enunciating every word. “Vhy, don’t you rest, hm?” he gestured to the mattress on the floor.

She slowly began lowering herself, collapsing to the mattress once more.

“Are you…avare? Can you talk?”

She was lying face up, resting her hands on her stomach “y-yea, I--think—so.” Her head was still spinning but her vision was becoming less blurry.

“Very good. Now I am going to ask you some basic questions and I vant you to anshure them as accurately as possible, do you understand?” The man in the white coat grabbed a chair and clip board, settling himself against the metal door across from her.

“Uh, sure.”

“Good. First question, vhat is your name?”

“It’s…. uh….um…uhh…….” She paused and widened her eyes, “I don’t……. I don’t…. know.”

“Next question, vhere are you from?” She kept staring towards the ceiling, eyes wide with her hands wringing. “Are you shtill vith me?”

“Oh, um, yeah…what was the question?”

“Vhere are you from?”

She paused again, shutting her eyes tight hoping it would give her an answer, “I…. don’t…..know…” She began to feel her chest tightening.

“Strange. Vhat is today’s date?”

“I don’t know….”

“Hm, are you sure?”

“Y-yeah,” she was still wringing her hands and shutting her eyes tight, as if that was going to bring her memory vacj.

“Last question. Do you know vhere you are?”

“…..No,” she had no hope for her memory.

“How unfortunate,” the man in the white coat writing down on his clipboard.

“C-can I ask some questions?” She asked, pinching her left temple.

The man looked up, cocking an eyebrow up, “I suppose so.”

“What is *your* name?”

“You can address me as, Dr. Maxis.”

“Ok, where are…*you* from?” She was beginning to try to prop herself up and lean against the wall. She made eye contact with her interviewer, an older man who looked to be in his 50’s, bald, with a thick white beard.

“Germany.”

“We’re in Germany?”

“Yes,” Dr. Maxis remained very direct and stiff, with no fluctuations in his voice and little body movement with exception to the occasional writing on his clipboard.

“What is today’s date?”

“October 19, 1945.”

She could not put her finger on it, but that did not seem right, “a-a-are you sure?”

“Vhy vouldn’t I be?”

She gave a small shrug and began thinking of a retort when another man in a white coat came to Dr. Maxis. They both began speaking German to one another, as she began to stand up once more, using one hand on the wall to balance herself.

“You! Young woman! What is that on your ankle?” The other balding gentleman barked at her in a posh British accent.

“Huh?” The woman responded. Before she could react, the balding man pushed her back into the ground and pulled her right trouser leg up. “What the hell are you—!”

“Tätowierung…letters J.V.” the man looked back at Dr. Maxis who sat calmly in his chair. “Do you think she came from a nearby facility?”

Maxis paused and looked at the woman, who was still being pinned by the other man’s hand. “No…it’s far to decorative. Hm, J.V., and I am assuming you do not know vhat that means, do you?” Asked Dr. Maxis.

“I don’t.”

“Vell, it is much easier zhan a serial number, so…” he wrote on his clipboard before continuing “JV is your label from now on, you vill do vell in answering to it,” Maxis said as he placed the chair back out in the hallway along with coaxing the other gentleman out, “it is best you do try to remember, ja?”  Before she could retort, the metal door closed followed by the sound of a heavy lock.

JV felt some relief with them gone, but the noises around her were nerve wracking.

If she listened hard enough, she heard talking, shouting, vehicles, electrical arcs, and the occasional sound of gunfire. It could not have been a prison; it would have been far quieter and more confined. Maybe, it is a laboratory? A factory? A small town of workers? Whatever it was, the environment dealt with electricity, people, and mechanics, and it certainly was not home.

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“What a goddamn hell hole…heh…” muttered Tank. A large, violent, and intense American marine who breathed rage and patriotism. “I’ve been in worse, much worse….,” this is the 101st time he repeated this sentence to himself today. Given the chance there would be no doubt that he would kill every guard in this building, make it to the northern shore of Germany and swim across the channel to England. No doubt in his iron-clad head he could do it, but until the bars the walls were made from something softer than concrete and the door was not metal, he would have to bide his tim---

           “Halt den Mund!” Shouted the German guard outside of his door.

           “I don’t know what the fuck you just said but……fuck you,” Tank snapped back. He was laying down on his wire bedframe mattress waiting for the next event in his capture to take place. Be it injection, interrogation, or whatever trouble he could stir up with his personal guard. None of it bothered him as it all his escape plan depended on timing, just like his time with the Japanese, though the enemy was more organized here, there certainly were weaknesses.

           “Eez-vahn-nee-*hic*-tihye….Amerikan….helllLLlooOooO, I have …*hic* idea….. do you want to get out of here…heHehH *hic* Heeeh,” the drunk Russian slurred from his adjoined cell room. Tank had the ‘fortune’ of being in a cell connected with a drunk through a ceiling high, barred window.

           “Jesus Christ, for the ump-teenth FUCKING TIME! SHUT IT!!” Tank yelled back, “you wouldn’t even know how to walk down the hallway! Let alone use a rifle!”

“HALT! DEN! MUND! HUND!” the German soldier shouted through the opened viewing window of Tank’s cell door.

           “HeEeEEeeEEEY, t-th-dis-this Russian knows Siberia like back of h-hand,” he said as he stared in his palm “hallway is easy! As for rifle….eh….vwhat was I saying? Eh…fuck it” The Russian began to

           “Riiight,” Tank began throwing small pebbles at the wall from his bed. He found it funny that when he talked to himself the guard would yell, but when someone else started a conversation the guard would not say shit. Go figure. Favorite-having-kraut bastards.  

           “—und zhis is vhere our current speshimens are,” a shrill voice said from down the hall, catching Tank’s attention. “Here ve have a Russian who has been injected vith a modified compound, which SO HAPPENS to be similar to vodka…. complete coincidence, I promise.”

“Showing us off to another gullible group of yours Rich-y-tick? Alright….I’ll play along….” Tank muttered as he got up from his metal cot.

“Zhis is our Japanese man, he does not shpeak much, exshecpt some muttering, but he has proven most USEFUL in our research…shilence is golden after all.”

When the shrill voice reached Tank’s cell, he hid directly underneath the cell door’s viewing window. “Now zhis speshimen is something of a ‘challenge’ so to shpeak. He has a verrry shtrong vill! But zhat is zha best of him.” the shrill German doctor opened the viewing window “Now gentleman if you so like to view the shpeci--.” The doctor paused, whispering a soft, “vhat?”

“Is there a problem Dr. Richtofen?” A man dressed in a grey SS uniform asked.

“Oh, no no, of course not Offizier!” Richtofen was playing it cool but not seeing the American in there was more than a little worrying. “Just one moment, if you please, I vill meet vith you back in zee atrium. Wachen[1], if you could escort zhem please?” As the group began to walk up the stairs, Richtofen ripped open the cell door.

“Gotchya…” Tank breathed. The minute he saw the doctor’s white coat Tank pulled him in, slamming the door behind, leaving only him and the man that has been torturing him for a month in the same room. “A LITTLE TASTE OF YOUR OWN MEDICINE YOU FUCK!!” Tank grabbed the thin doctor’s throat pinning him to the wall with one hand, while landing a solid punch to his stomach.

Richtofen began gagging and wheezing, but not without a wide smile on his face. “You fool!” He began to cackle like a madman, but it was silenced with Tank’s fist to his face, sending him to the ground with a bloody nose. Richtofen remained unmoving but breathing.

“Alright! It’s been some time since I worked out, now…where are the keys?” Tank bent down and began searching the doctor’s pockets, as he moved on from the coat pockets to pants pockets, he felt a sharp, stinging sensation in his arm. Looking back towards Richtofen’s face there was an almost unnaturally large grin.

“Hehehe, nice try American, I appreciate zhat tumble, but it’s time for bed, schweinhund,” with a loud thud Tank fell forward followed by his raucous snoring.

           Richtofen got up, dusted himself off, licking the blood off his lips and using a handkerchief for the rest if his face.

“Just a little bit more time, heh heh, zhen….zhis vill all be vorth it.”

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[1] German: guard