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Post by Heinrich Zöhler on Jun 14, 2006 14:23:51 GMT -5
The mist parted down the quiet southern end of Main Street for a stranger walking, the tendrils of fog that were already being burnt away by the sunrise curling curiously around the steadily pacing feet. The morning light was soft and nearly made the scene surreal in its gentle glow, blurring the edges of one's vision if you were to glance quickly at something to your side. The wanderer on the sidewalk glanced left and right without turning his head, merely giving the possibility of an oncoming car a brief glance before stepping onto the concrete and making his way across the street. He stepped over the yellow line without pause, ignoring the mist that continued to dog his ankles, and turned to continue down the street in the middle of the road. There was no danger in it: no one was driving around on a Saturday morning at seven o'clock. No gangs about, either: they were kids who liked to sleep in, both sides.
Heinrich Zöhler kicked an empty soda bottle out of his way almost unconsciously, sending it skitting into the gutter with the familiar tap of cheap glass on the hard surface of the road. His goal, the gas station just barely visible on the corner by now, was already lit up and open as he had expected. Ever since the tiny auto shop on the northern end of town had abruptly closed, Heinrich had been looking for a new job, preferably one closer to the small, cramped apartment he called home. Cars was the easiest job around here besides working at the local pharmacy, which probably paid more, but despite all he'd been through he still had his pride. Motors or nothing. Planes, which he knew best, were in rather short supply anywhere within fifty miles of this town.
What would Fritz have said? Heinrich wondered idly as he approached the station. Well, Fritz Reihmann would have said many things about his friend working at a cheap American gas station, most of them snide, but even if they were things one wanted to hear Fritz couldn't say them. He was dead now, dead over six years, and Heinrich would have given anything to even hear what he would have said about this situation be it bad or good. Still, he was used to the pain of the loss of his friends, which was what he dwelled upon most of the time, so it didn't hurt as much as it had six years ago when Fritz's Messerschmitt-109 had plunged out of the sky with flames erupting from both engines and its trapped pilot's screams of agony had come over the radio for a brief but horrible moment. No. Now failure hurt first and foremost, because that wasn't over.
Removing his hands from the pockets of his battered jeans to briefly brush off his collared T-shirt, Heinrich wiped his feet on the mat outside the door and knocked. About a minute passed, and no one answered, but that was to be expected if someone was working. Trying the doorknob and finding it unlocked, the dark-haired man slipped inside the garage, which appeared to be deserted. Dark blue eyes flicked around the interior briefly before Heinrich leaned on the doorframe and called, "Hello?"
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Post by Ponyboy/Dallas on Jun 14, 2006 17:11:34 GMT -5
Slowly soft foot steps where heard as a girl wondered through the inside fo the Gas Station. She looked up as she heard a knock. She wondered who it was. But when she was about to go see, her big brother had grabbed her arm. Grabe a piece of candy and lets go. Mom and dad are looking for you.... He muttered, raising a eye brow. She growled and tryed to punch him in the face. But he had grabbed her hand and slowly pull her hand back to her side.
Three men walked out of the garage and stared at her and her big brother. Come on.... Why are you even a Greaser, Kora? Where Socs and you're- He was cut off by the girl who had throw a beer bottle at him. He dodged it and stared at her with cold eyes. Kora turned around and started to walk away. Her brother wuick ran after her. Kora come on. He growled, grabbing her hand again. Kora bit his ahnd making him cry out in pain. She punched him in the face knocking him away from her.
I said I don't want to see them.... Those drunks... They only care about you. She said, her voise rising with anger. She turned around and unlocked he door, slowly walking out. You're coming with me and that is finel! He growled, his voice almost a scream. He grabbed the back of her neck and quickly pushed her to the side walk, waiting for a friend to get the car. Kora screamed in pain as he pushed ahrder on her neck.
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Post by ~Steve~ on Jun 14, 2006 17:13:51 GMT -5
Steve was sitting on a car's hood with a rag. He heard someone shout and he looked up and did not move from where he was. He saw him and he wondered what he would do. He did nt know if he was a fellow Greaser or a SOC. He put his right hand in his pocket just in case he had to guard himself. He looked back at the car and scrubbed it harder and ignored the new comer. He was trying to hide that he was here. He was in a black tank top and his old wripped jeans. His jean jacket was hanging over a chiar. He looked around it was quiet and he felt uncumfterble mostly because there was an unknown person near him and there was no Soda. He mounded to himself. H took a drag of his ciggerette and then he went back to work.
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Post by Heinrich Zöhler on Jun 14, 2006 17:16:49 GMT -5
[OOC] Er...I think you guys posted at the same time...who should I reply to?
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Post by Ponyboy/Dallas on Jun 14, 2006 19:35:17 GMT -5
OOC: Ummm.... It's up to you. Don't mind.
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Post by Heinrich Zöhler on Jun 15, 2006 5:51:53 GMT -5
[OOC] K then, I guess I'll go with Steve's. If you want to maybe even move that post down, Pony, that'll work with the thread.
[BIC] A slight squeak of cloth on the metallic paint of a car's hood caught Heinrich's attention, and he padded quietly around a parked car to reveal the sight of a teenage boy of perhaps seventeen or eighteen wearing jeans as beat-up as his own and a black tanktop. He was perched atop the hood of an old car and was quietly polishing its surface with a rag. Clearly, the kid had heard him--one would have to be deaf not to in this echoing garage--but was either ignoring his presence or waiting for him to announce himself. Well, two could play that way, but Heinrich was not going to take the bait. It had been a long time since he had gotten in an argument about something so petty.
"Hey, kid." The German's native accent was almost nonexistent after six years living in the United States--he had always been good at picking up local slang and accent ever since his two-month stint as a British POW back in '40--but this time it was a matter of survival. If you spoke too loud with a real German accent, that was real attention, attention Heinrich didn't want. You got followed in the street, yelled names like "Kraut" and "Nazi" after you: perhaps that was more true for Heinrich than a real German American who hadn't anything to do with the war, but in the first few months after running away from the American POW camp, such knowledge of his background was inherently dangerous. Thus, he had picked up American slang and a decent accent as quickly as possible. There was still a slight roughening of a v around his w's, a tendency to skip over a soft h and mispronounce a j, but that was hardly noticeable by anyone not looking for the accent.
"Who's in charge around here?" Heinrich asked quietly, expressionlessly, moving around the car so he was facing the boy. "I'm looking for a job. Maybe you could help me out, huh?"
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Post by ~Steve~ on Jun 15, 2006 10:21:50 GMT -5
Steve looked up at the german guy and said "well my name is not kid and my name is Steve...." he was about to fume. He looked him up and down. He was kinda mad that he would just storm in and ask for a job. Steve shrugged and ignored him and went back to work. He looked up when he said "HELP" he riased his eyebrows and said "well it is actaully not that hard it says SHOP you go in and ask for a job from the clerk well you ask the clerk to see the boss and then you go in and ask for a job...." he jumped of and draped the wrag over his shoulder and started to walk back to the shop. He glanced back to see if he was folowing him.
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Post by Ponyboy/Dallas on Jun 15, 2006 12:35:41 GMT -5
OOC: Ok The Soc growled and let go of the girl. She wipped her lip with the back of her hand and stared at the Soc in the eyes. Go tell dad and mom... I'm not coming back.... Ever again. Kora snorted, her breathing becoming heaviy. She then turned around and started to walk back to the store. The Socs got back in there car and slowly began to drive away. Kora opened the door, past Steve and walked in. She pushed her brown hair out of her eyes and sighed sadly. She looked up at the Clerk and gave him 2 bucks for a piece of candy and a drink. She looked out the window and looked at Heinrich Zí¹¢í¼¥r and Steve, wondering what they where doing here. She then walked to get her drink. She grabbed a piece of candy and got hot CoCo. She then sat down at a table and wrapped her jacket around her to keep warm.
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Post by ~Steve~ on Jun 15, 2006 13:55:59 GMT -5
Steve looked as Kora stormed by him and asked "you okay?" it was obviouse she was not. He looked back at the geran guy and rolled his eyes when he turned away from him. He went to the counter were the nice lady was like always and then sighedWhat was he doing? helping a SOC or a Greaser. He did not know. He knew Kora was one of his kind a Greaser.
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Post by Heinrich Zöhler on Jun 15, 2006 14:35:01 GMT -5
When he was finished speaking, the kid--Steve, Heinrich reminded himself with a slight roll of his eyes--put down his tools and crossed the garage, glancing back once as an indication that the newcomer should be following, which he was. The sarcastic boy reminded him a bit of Erich Schneider, shot down over the English Channel during the Battle of Britain, who had never missed the chance to make a smart remark as Steve was doing now. Not that Heinrich much cared--if he wanted to fall into that typical American stereotype of a tough guy, he could do just that. Just because Heinrich hadn't known how to ask for a job at this particular gas station, he seemed to take it as a personal insult.
Steve led him into a small office that was presumably the front of the building. A bored-looking clerk sat at the desk, barely even looking up as the door swung open and a flushed girl blew past them both, snatched a candy bar from the cooler in the corner, and ordered a hot chocolate. Heinrich nodded to her as his upbringing and officer training had taught him and waited behind Steve, guessing he would make an introduction to the clerk for him.
While he waited, he glanced back at the girl--a local? She seemed rather upset about something, and her hands were trembling slightly with the air of one who had just experienced some extreme emotion. Heinrich watched her from under hooded lids, wondering idly if she belonged to one of the two town gangs. Had it been them who had caused her upset?
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Post by ~Steve~ on Jun 15, 2006 14:45:52 GMT -5
The clerk and the girl both looked up at both of them. Steve looked back at him and wispered "say something to them...ask to see the Boss...." he cleared his throat and then turned back around. The girl gave him a questoning look and then she glanced at the other boy and nodded she understood. She wispered into the clerks ear, He yawned and then a frown came on his face. The clerk looked up Heinrich Zöhler and said in a dry vioce "do you need something kid?" he was grouchy. Steve could not help it but he smirked.
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KoraForgot to login
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Post by KoraForgot to login on Jun 15, 2006 14:54:05 GMT -5
Kora slowly grabbed the handle of the cup and took a sip. She gently placed the cup down and glancedup at the two boys. He stared up at Steve as he asked her the question. I'm fine....She said, her voice low but also shaky. She then looked down at her hot chocolate and sighed sadly. She then looked up at Steve and shrugged. Steve? Do you have any place I can stay? She asked, looking at Heinrich slightly.
She grinned a hello to him and watched as Steve smirked at him. She rolled her eyes at Steve and slowly stood. She walked up to Heinrich Zí¹¢í¼¥r and held out her hand, her hot chocolate in the other. Hi. I'm Kora. What's you're name? She asked, giving a kind grin. She then looked to the side to see if Steve was going to do something. And plus he didn't look like he was around here, so adlease she could do was say hi.
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Post by ~Steve~ on Jun 15, 2006 15:02:07 GMT -5
Steve said "sorry i dont....ut you can sleep in the vacant lot...." he looked over his shoulder at him and he tured away. This guy was freakin him out. He then felt koras eyes on him he looked over and riased his eye brows. He then wispered to her "this guy is freakin me out...." he pointed to him with his thumb.
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Post by Heinrich Zöhler on Jun 16, 2006 5:21:51 GMT -5
Catching the tail end of Steve's whisper to the girl, who clearly knew him by the familiar way in which they conversed, Heinrich couldn't help but grin slightly. "I don't mean to--Steve, is it? I am not around other people often: perhaps that's why. Sorry." It was true enough, after all. Few people lived in his apartment complex that were hospitable, and even fewer had come to the old auto-shop where he had worked until very recently. The fact that Steve found him unnerving was a little upsetting, but that, like all the things he had faced recently, was not difficult to accept considering the circumstances.
Turning to Kora, who seemed to have recovered and had addressed him kindly enough--the first earnest kindness he'd heard in a while aside from the sarcastic variety--he returned the smile. At first, the expression felt strange and awkward, but after a few moments his face remembered how to smile and he did so honestly enough.
His name, she wanted to know?
Heinrich paused briefly, wondering if he should use his real name with these people. After all, for his first few months living in America he had used more of an American one for two reasons: to avoid the attention he had reflected upon earlier and to avoid being located by the police. Nowadays he was more lax about it, revealing his name to those he felt could be trusted, but these two...well, he was having a hard time getting a sense for their character. The girl, Kora, maybe--she was a good one, he could tell--but Steve...he was another matter.
Throwing caution to the winds in an abrupt lack of concern, Heinrich recklessly decided it really didn't matter any more. These kids, after all, didn't work for the government, and they would keep their mouths shut to the authorities. Maybe they were people he could trust. "I'm Heinrich Zöhler, formerly from north of town," he told Kora. "Maybe that is why we haven't met."
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Post by Ponyboy/Dallas on Jun 16, 2006 10:39:10 GMT -5
Kora smirked as she heard Steve. She smacked him hard on the back of the head to shut up, she then looked up at Heinrich. She knew that he was not about here, by the way he was dressed, but hey he seemed nice. Her dark brown shifting to Steve as she waited for him to reply. She quickly reached her hand to the table and placed her cup down, before facing Heinrich again. Alot of question where racing through her head as she looked at Heinrich.
When he finely reply, she grinned and noded. Nice to meet you. SHe said, her voice sweet and kind. Oh, mabey that's why. But just forgive my friend over there.....Steve.... He can be really mean sometimes. She said, her eyes glaring at Steve. Oh but it's going to can't some time for the boss to come, since he had left for a meeting. But you wanna sit down? She asked, offering him a sit. She then sat down on a chair next to her cup and could a sip before looking up at him.
OOC: Yay! My muse is back. Kinda....
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