This is my rewrite of Huntress, which is now very different as the other one was crappy…
1940-Cranwell, Lincolnshire, England
'Oh Archie, you are a fool' Ida laughed at her stupid cousin; 'You are just annoyed because I am a higher rank than you' she stuck out her tongue like a child.
'Yes, but you are in the WAAF' he took a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke near her as he knew she was trying to quit.
'A very good WAAF officer actually' she coughed, and Archie chuckled slightly under his breath. 'Well anyway 2nd Lieutenant Hicox' she raised an eyebrow at the man who was more like a brother than a cousin to her, 'What I needed to talk to you about'
'Ah yes, ma'am' he frowned.
'I am going to be away for a while, I have a special assignment' she emphasized the special.
'Does this have anything to do with your London trip the other week?'
'Maybe' she took a cigarette from his pack, smiling he lit it for her, and she gave him a look that said; 'I hate you'
'I would assume you are going to be dropped into occupied territory?' he raised an eyebrow, grinning.
She took a long drag, 'France, about five miles outside Paris' she flicked ash from the end of it, he just sat there and nodded.
'When do you fly?'
'Tonight' she smiled sadly and he looked her in the eyes, concern all over his face. 'Oh don't worry about me you soft old sod' she took another drag.
'Of course I'm not worried' he sat back, taking a swig from his whiskey.
She rolled her eyes, stubbed out her cigarette and got up, 'Anyway, I must got,' she pulled his arm and checked the time; 'Shit' she downed her whiskey as he got up, she looked him in the eyes, 'I love you, big brother' and kissed him full on the forehead and he held her tightly.
'I love you too little sister, stay safe and give those Gerry's a run for their money' She nodded, grabbed her jacket and ran out of the pub, a whirl of blue in her lovely RAF uniform.
France- 4am, 5miles outside Paris
Ida got up from the damp, dewy grass, pulling on the strings of her parachute, rolling it up, and shoving it in the large rucksack that she had just taken from her front.
She rolled up the sleeves of her jumpsuit, walking in the direction of the woods. She untied her hair from the bun, the chestnut brown soft curls falling around her shoulders, her arms swinging as she walked through the grass about ankle length.
Once she reached the woods she went to a small stream to wash her face and grimy hands from the aircraft. The water was very cold, and refreshing, and she spent some time by the stream, gathering her bearings when she heard some frantic rustling of leaves and branches.
Ida pulled out her pistol, and went to see, there was a young woman, stumbling around, covered in blood, her clothes rags and her hair matted with now brown blood.
Ida rushed over, cautiously though, trying not to startle the girl.
It didn't work however, she looked as if she was about to bolt.
'No! Wait!' she put her weapon away, raising her hands. 'Do you speak English?'
'Some' she looked across to Ida, her blue eyes full of fear.
'I can help you' Ida smiled, putting a hand on her arm, 'Can I assume that you are Jewish?' she asked, getting no answer, 'I am a British spy and I can get you in touch with the French resistance- they will help you' the girl looked up, wanting to believe her. 'I'm Ida, Ida Hicox' she held out her hand, the teenager's blue eyes looking deep into her own and smiled slightly, the corners of her mouth turning upwards.
'Shosanna' she said in a lovely French accent.
'Lovely to meet you Shosanna' Ida smiled warmly, holding her arm to steady her frantic shaking, 'Come and get washed off, you can tell me all about what happened to you' she looked up 'If you can, or want to' she smiled again warmly.
'Merci' Shosanna sat down on a small rock next to the stream, and Ida rummaged through her rucksack and brought out a small flannel/rag.
As Ida helped clean Shosanna, the shy but feisty girl proceeded to tell her about what happened to her family, and about the man who came to the house they were hiding in, Ida stated that she thought she knew who he was, Major Hans Landa of the SS.
She finished by helping her into a change of clothes that Ida had spare, and picked out some of the splinters in her arms and face, and they continued on their way to Paris.
3 months later- February 1941
Ida navigated the tables in the café swiftly and elegantly feeling his eyes on her constantly, his pale blue eyes watching her, he did it every day, and had been for the past three months. She smiled at the customers serving them and taking away their dishes.
He was watching her, his icy blue eyes following the lovely sway of her hips, she had reasonably large breasts, they would look very large on a thin person, she was muscular and her face was very beautiful. She had chestnut brown hair that curled very softly around her face, it set off her green eyes that were framed by thick black lashes. He kept looking at her, her curvy figure and couldn't help but think of what it would be like to touch her, kiss her.
Ida sat down at the only remaining bar stool, next to the creepy guy that constantly stared at her, at the end of her shift. She had grabbed her cardigan and wrapped it around herself, she got a book out and Seán had poured her a whiskey. She sat there for a moment, feeling the familiar feeling of his eyes on her again.
'Bonjour Madame' he lent into her
'Bonjour' she replied frostily, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.
'Do you speak German?' he had obviously exercised the extent of his French.
'Ahh, so will you speak it to me?' He looked hopeful
She downed her whiskey and walked away from the Gestapo captain, quickly.
She ran across the cobbled street, up to her apartment, waving at Shoshanna as she did. She pulled a cupboard away from the wall, reached into the hole in the wall at the back and pulled out a machine gun. She slipped out of her dress quickly, pulling a vest on and a pair of tight trousers, she slid a pistol into her waistband and hid her machine gun under the long woollen trench coat she had put on. She put her boots on, and rushed out.
Checking her watch she cursed under her breath, she was going to be late.
As she was on the edge of Paris it didn't take long for her to get into the forest on the outskirts of the city. She swiftly moved between the trees, jumped over a large fallen tree and crouched behind it. Ida brushed the moss off the tree, and placed the gun onto it meaning it had more grip.
She waited for two minutes or so, until a small patrol truck rumbled alone the dirt road. Ida tightened the grip on her weapon, she took a deep breath and waited until it got into position, then fired. The Nazis in the truck had no idea, she shot until the belt was empty, she slung it aside and went to inspect her handy work.
She went over to it, and was startled, one of the three men, heavily blooded stumbled out of the truck, knife in hand. He slashed at her cutting her arm; she quickly recovered from her shock with the sharp pain in her arm. She put her forearm up to block the next blow, she pulled his arm round and then pushed it up to make him lose his grip on the knife. It dropped to the floor and she knelt to retrieve it, he pushed past her trying to flee, but she was faster and pulled him to the ground slitting his throat so that he couldn't escape again.
Ida pulled off her vest, it was soaked in blood and put some water on her chest to get the blood off when she heard a twig snap. She spun around and cocked her weapon, pointed in the direction of the noise, and what turned out to be a group of rugged looking men, heavily armed and very muscular.
'Woah lady, chill, we were just admiring your handy work' a tall man, with a Southern American drawl and a little moustache said, smiling cheekily at her.