1944

The village of Nadine France.

Col. Hans Landa slowly walked around the aftermath of what once was the small tavern of La Louisiane. The massacre had been discovered earlier this morning when one of the delivery men came down and discovered the scene. Racing to the authorities, they summoned Landa to investigate since all wasn't as it seemed.

Staring down at one of the slumped over corpses, he couldn't help but smile.

"Ah, Hugo. You've moved up in the world I see. Lieutenant, and with your record of insubordination...truly remarkable."

Nudging the corpse with his boot, he turned and stared at two corpses that laid underneath the stairs. One was a man who had fallen back, several large bullet wounds sprayed across his gray uniform as his head was slightly cocked to the side, almost as if he had fallen asleep.

Pointing, he informed the other officer.

"That one is Weilheim Wicki...Austrian born Jew who immigrated to the United States when things began turning sour for the Israelites. They are the two German born members of The Basterds. They've been known to don German uniforms, to ambush squads."

Glancing down he saw that Wicki's right arm was extended out, a piece of fabric torn off in his hand. Tracing his eyes downward, he saw the source of the torn cloth. Laying turned slightly over was a woman.

In fact, she looked more like a girl.

She was in a black dress, it's material shimmery and beaded. Part of her sleeves was torn, which explained the fabric that was clutched in Wicki's stiffening hand. Looking down he saw the woman had torn nylons on and a pair of black high heels. Her face was slightly hidden since her dark pinned up hair had fallen over.

Raising an eyebrow he was about to bend over when something caught his eye next to the table. Looking, he saw it was another high heel.

It didn't belong to the girl near Wicki, nor the other two women who had been shot down. Squatting, he picked it up and closely studied it.

"It appears somebody is missing...somebody fashionable..."

Most of the officers began marching up the stairs, all but one remaining.

Looking past the other shot down officer he didn't recognize, he believed that he more than likely was one of the unidentifiable Bastards he had heard about, or simply a spy. Most of his lower stomach and crotch had been blown away by a pistol.

Laying beside him among all the broken glass and bullet shells was a napkin.

A napkin with an autograph.

Raising an eyebrow, Hans reached down and read the message and eyed the lipstick mark left on it. Smirking, everything clicked together as he kissed the napkin.

Getting up, he turned tucking the napkin in his pocket. Tonight's events were going to be very interesting indeed.

Then...he stopped.

Glancing down he looked at the girl who was laying underneath the stairs beside Wicki. Frowning, he squatted down again and very carefully brushed back her hair.

She was gorgeous.

Her face was flecked with blood, and she looked as if she was sleeping. He saw the side of her neck had been clipped, and her shoulder had been shot as well, the blood drying and soaked into the right shoulder of her dress.

Reaching down, he gently swept his fingers across her face when suddenly she jerked away from his touch, causing him to jump back. Nearly loosing his balanced footing, he snapped back his hand as one of the officers spun around and stared down.

The girl gasped before her eyelids fluttered open. Looking dazed, she coughed violently before turning over again.

"She's still alive!"

The officer said in German, his eyes wide with surprise.

Landa simply shook his head before glancing down reaching out, touching her arm. The girl bowed her hand and tried to sit up before crying out in pain. Hans silently watched her before he she lifted her head and stared across at Wicki's dead corpse.

Blinking, she stared in utter disbelief.

"Wicki?"

She said, her voice uncertain and her French accent very strong. She seemed so scared, so young. Hans noticed how bloodshot one of her eyes were and that her neck wound was bleeding again. Half raised, she reached out and shook Wicki's leg.

"Wicki!"

Hans stared at her.

"Do you speak English?"

The girl froze before glancing over. Right away her good arm shot to her leg and began to pull up the side of her dress when Landa snatched her wrist with lighting speed. Grasping it tightly, he stopped her from grabbing the small pistol that had been strapped to her upper thigh. Leaning over, he reached up himself, his fingers brushing against her skin before tossing the gun away. Still holding onto her, he stared down.

"Do speak English?"

He asked again, his time his voice finding a bit of an edge to it.

Staring up at him with wide frightened eyes, the girl simply nodded. In the dim light of the tavern, he saw that her eyes were a gorgeous shade of violet.

"Explain what happened here and now."

The girl looked around, frightened before gulping. Softly under her breath Hans heard her say...

"They left me..."

Grinning, Landa smiled.

"Abandoned by your people huh? Well my darling, if you explain to me what happened and then tell me where they are we won't have any trouble will we?"

The girl glared at Landa before swearing at him in French.

"Vissez-vous !"

With that she spit straight in his face. Snapping his eyes shut, Landa felt her spittle run down her face before calmly using his hand to wipe it away. Opening his eyes he saw her sitting there, bleeding and wounded, breathing harsh shallow breaths. Smiling, Landa shook his head.

"Today is your lucky day my dear. I luckily don't need you for information. You see I'm a detective, it's my job to figure out things. Now I'm sure you really thought your people wouldn't have left you like this. I'm sure your thinking they must have believed you were dead...well I'm sorry to break it to you, but they probably saw you were wounded and left you behind. Left you all alone in this mess with your dead boyfriend..."

He slapped Wicki's boot before smiling causing the girl to glare and bear her teeth at him.

"Don't you touch him!"

Landa was amused, this young girl seemed feisty and with plenty of life in her. He was very interested in her, very interested indeed.

"How old are you?"

"Vas te faire foutre!"

Hans smiled tightening his grip on her wrist.

"How old?"

The girl huffed while staring at him, a silent tear rolling down her face.

"Four...Fourteen..."

Hans smiled.

"Younger than I thought. Now I'm sure I'll be getting a story out of you shortly...but I do believe I will find some use for you."

Glancing up at the officer he nodded and motioned away.

"Head upstairs and get the trucks ready...bring out the gas cans and burn the outside."

The girl's eyes widened in fear as she tried to shoot up.

"NO!"

Hans squeezed her wrist before the officer nodded and quickly hurried up the stairs. Once they were alone, Hans smiled looking at her.

"I have very important business tonight, as does your people I suppose. I have a strong feeling it's going to be a very eventful evening and much will be changed by morning. Now as much as I would love you to be my date for the evening..."

As he spoke, the girl glanced back at Wicki's body, her head aching. Hans continued to speak.

"I'm planning on retirement, and I think I may need myself a pretty young wife."

These words caused the girl to freeze, looking at Hans she tried to fight back when he lashed out and punched her straight in the face. Right away her body fell down like an old rag doll. Letting go of her wrist and shaking his hand which throbbed from hitting her, he straightened himself up.

Smirking, he stood himself up before reaching down and scooping her up. She didn't weigh much, and her head hung back nearly lifeless. Smiling, he looked around at the tavern once more before slowly carrying the girl up the stairs. Smiling to himself he had to laugh.

He had no idea a bitch was with the bastards.

11 hours earlier.

Bridget had shot the young officer dead, sitting up with a stunned expression of both surprise and shock. Aldo, Hirschberg, and Donny nearly fan into each other as they raced down the spiral stairs. All three of them knocked into each other as Aldo stood there completely speechless.

Donny's eyes widened.

He scanned the room, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. He knew it was a mistake to let her go down here. How could he have been so stupid? Right away Hirschberg and Aldo approached Bridget who held onto her bleeding leg.

"Jesus woman what the fuck happened?!"

Aldo yelled.

Donny ignored all of this, his pulse sounded in his ears as he searched for her. To the side of the wall was Hugo, there were officers dead all over the place. One sitting up with Hugo's large knife sticking out of the back of his skull.

Hirschberg and Aldo were attempting to lift Bridget up as she screamed at the top of her lungs. Taking a final step down, he looked around before slowly turning.

Wicki and Anabel were there.

Donny froze as he looked down. Large machine gun holes were all over the woodwork and stones. It appeared that Wicki had been blown backwards, knocking over some boxes before slumping against the wall.

Anabel was laying beside him, a small pool of blood forming underneath her. He saw what had happened just by looking at them and the chairs that had been knocked over. Once the shooting stared Wicki had tried to either pull her backwards or pull her down.

Staring down at her, he couldn't believe it.

That's when Aldo knocked into him.

"Come on Donny! Give us a hand! We gotta haul ass!"

He didn't want to leave her, that was the last thing he wanted to do. Looking down at her body, a horrible wave of anger pulsed through him as he turned and without even saying a word grabbed Bridget right out of Ado and Hirschberg's arms. Throwing her over his shoulder, she screamed before he stormed up the tin stairs, skipping two at a time.

Aldo and Hirschberg exchanged a look before both looking down at Wicki and Anabel. Sighing, Aldo rubbed his chin before shaking his head.

"Dammit to hell..."

Without another word they hurried up the stairs, not noticing that Anabel was still breathing.