Velvet Waltz [An Inglourious Basterds fic]

Surrender

"Right over there."

It was the first intelligible voice she'd heard since they'd covered her head with that suffocating black hood, pinned her to the bathroom floor, bound her wrists with rope, thrown her into a van to who knows where. Now those same rough hands pushed her into a seated position, and pulled off the hood.

Blinding lights. Sylvia recoiled. What was this, an interrogation?

"There she is."

Edward.

"Here I am," she grumbled.

When she forced her eyes open, there was Hans. Also bound, squinting in the glare. From the state of his hair he'd had the same treatment.

Their eyes met, hers fearful, his tired.

If this was the end, at least they were together.

A throat clearing to her right.

"Oh, yes, sorry. Two-hundred each, was it?" Edward walked to the door, dragging one leg slightly as he clipped the edge of the light. He counted out bills into the waiting soldiers' hands. With a gruff nod, they departed...upstairs. So they were in a basement.

"Enjoy the film," Edward called out after them.

Oh yeah, Sylvia thought with a smirk. Enjoy the film.

Her eyes began to adjust. Was that looming shadow just beyond the lights a movie camera? Along the back wall, watching with palpable horror, were Aldo, identifiable by his white tuxedo, as well as Alain, and Utivich. Several feet away, their guns and daggers lay haphazardly on a card table.

"What are you doing, Edward?" Her voice sounded much smaller than she would've liked.

"We're making our own little movie. Isn't that every American girl's dream? To be a movie star?"

She was rapidly coming to a boil. If she were going to die overseas, it should at least be at the hands of a real Nazi, not some brown-nosing British traitor.

"Careful," Hans whispered. "Don't push him."

"Quiet!" Edward snapped, and with a lurch, the camera whirred to life. "We're rolling. Now, state your name and rank."

"Standartenführer Hans Landa, SS. Sicherheitsdienst, to be exact."

How he managed such dignity under the circumstances was beyond her.

"Austrian?"

"Correct."

Edward gestured to his right. "Herr Becker, can you step forward, please?"

Sylvia nearly fell off her chair as the gawky young soldier shuffled into the light. He looked back at her, grinning.

His leering eyes in the rearview that day. Transporting a prisoner? You chose a pretty one.

It took every ounce of self-control not to spit on him.

"Name and rank?"

"Private Rolf Becker."

"What happened on February 28th, Private?"

"Well, I had some paperwork to deliver to 84 Avenue Foch, and I happened to encounter Standartenführer Landa," Rolf bleated, enjoying the attention. "I mentioned it was nearly an hour until my train, you see, my family lives outside of the city. He very graciously offered me a ride."

"After twisting my arm until it nearly snapped," Hans muttered.

"He was transporting a prisoner in the back seat. I mentioned she was pretty. He didn't seem to like that comment. She was, though. You can see for yourself, she's right here!" Rolf pointed at Sylvia, reminding her of a salesman. "She cleans up well, I think!"