Reg Carter: Deep Cover Chapt. 1 (Strong Language)

Thankyou for reviewing, I'm constantly editing so I'll look over this chapter when I can and try and incorporate some of your suggestions. I know I need to start working in a lot more desciption, which I'll hopefully achieve after reading these Greg Iles thrillers as they're kind of modelling what I might use for this Novel.

Thanks again AAAM,
Ben

“People of Britain. On this day of 3rd September 1939, Britain and France are at war with Germany, following the invasion of Poland two days ago.” The radio crackled and breathed out a fuzz of noise into the small room. In the room a man and a woman, their mouths gaping wide, listened like a hawk. The woman squinted to try and hear the speech above the buzzing. The man glanced up to his wife before quickly looking back and imitating his wife’s actions. Before he could make the right face the woman changed her expression and began to seem angry.

“Roger, you bloody blitherin’ idiot! Fix the radio!” She cried and began whaling her arms hopelessly murmuring about anything that came to mind, “Well Roger? Have you done it? Come on! Chambers is tryin’ to tell us somethin’ that might be important!”

The man simply carried on pondering over the electronics and didn’t say a word.

He realised there was no point in continuing as she had obviously decided to take him on a guilt trip. Roger advanced into the kitchen and put some water over the stove to boil.

The man was speaking with a heavy German accent. He was of medium build and stood in gray Nazi overalls, his eyes were a deep blue and his wispy gray hair was covered by an officer’s hat that crowed over the man’s dark gray eyebrows. A pair of gold, thin-framed spectacles sat on his perky nose. He was pacing back and forth in a the Assuming he is in the same room as the protagonist. black room; the only light was the illumination of the moon outside that had weaved its way through the barred slit windows near the ceiling. Momentarily the Nazi’s gloves were lit to reveal a coating of dark red blood. It was clearly from the other man’s face, a man who appeared to be more of a corpse, his face hanging to the ground and he sat with a crippled, arch back. His face was covered in blood and bruises from where he’d been hit. It looked yellow, red and purple all at the same time and it was very disfigured – probably a fractured jaw and a broken nose. The Nazi turned to the sweating disfigured man one more time and peered deep into his eyes. His gaze was cold.

The Obersturmführer interrupted, “Yah, this is my ID…” he reached for his pocket with his left hand, but with his right he quickly delved into his holster and ripped out a Luger pistol shooting Von Schlick three times in the chest. He was thrown back and the tray of tools was knocked to the ground, his body was left to lie in a pool of his own blood.

“Don’t worry Von Schlick, you’ll rest in peace yet. This room is sound proof.” Groaned the Obersturmführer in bad English. The prisoner was watching wide eyed, but you couldn’t tell because his disfigured face made it look like he was squinting. He laughed.

“We best hope these Nazis are fuckin’ retarded.” Reg laughed.

“No worries, Joshua. They are.” Carter grinned.

They both laughed and Reg nodded in acceptance. He scrambled over to the body with a crippled back. He put on the German overalls like a whining child. Slowly pulling the boots onto his feet, replacing his shirt, putting on a grey jacket and smirking at the medals it was decorated with as if they were his. Carter watched out through the door for any activity, but peered at Reg with one eye, amusing himself with what he saw.

Two uniformed Nazi privates approached from the corridor outside. Carter turned to Reg and his eyes burned at him, “Hurry up, before one of these half wits decides to wander on in ‘ere!”

Chapter 4 is up.

Thanks for the review ranger.

Okay, here I finally am for a review!

First off, your story is interesting, and I'd definitely read more. Haven't gotten me so hooked that I'd want to buy it from the bookstore, but then again, I usually only buy fantasy novels, so for the genre it's quite good.

Now, onto the nitpicks! I didn't bother reading anyone else's comments, so if I'm repeating what they've already said then don't mind me!

Critique
“People of Britain. On this day of 3rd September 1939, Britain and France are at war with Germany, following the invasion of Poland two days ago.” The radio crackled and breathed out a fuzz of noise into the small room. In the room a man and a woman, their mouths gaping wide, listened like a hawk. The woman squinted to try and hear the speech above the buzzing. The man glanced up to at his wife before quickly looking back and imitating his wife’s actions. Before he could make the right face the woman changed her expression and began to seem angry.

“Roger, you bloody blitherin’ idiot! Fix the radio!” Sshe cried and began whaling Hm, I don't know about this word; maybe it's the British spelling and my dictionary doesn't have it, but I'm not sure... her arms, hopelessly murmuring "murmuring" refers more to a softer, quieter tone, which is not the impression I get here. about anything that came to mind, “Well Roger? Have you done it? Come on! Chambers is tryin’ to tell us somethin’ that might be important!”

The man simply carried on pondering over the electronics and didn’t say a word.

“Roger!” His wife cried.

“Oh for God’s sake, woman! I’m bloody doing it aren’t I?” Hhe shouted and towered over his wife. His outbreak had happened so quickly, she was genuinely frightened and shocked. Probably shocked he had the nerve more than anything. As soon as she noticed his confusion she took her stand.

“You listen ‘ere, Roger! No-one, no matter who you are, takes a tone like that to a woman!” She desperately tried to scramble into a position that made her look superior; “I’m naturally annoyed that you’re takin’ so darn long to fiddle with that radio when we’re tryin’ to listen to Chambers! Do you not know a war has broken out?”

“Marie, I am sorry – but I do insist you be more patient,” Roger replied before returning to the radio. He picked it up and shook it around a little.

Marie had thrown herself backward into the armchair that stood in the small front room. Her face was wrinkled and her neck hung saggy under her eyes. This doesn't quite sound right. She wore a simple, black sweater and a grey skirt. Her expression was blank and irritated but at least she was quiet. Roger, on the other hand, was her opposite. His body was rounded and plump, his head sat on him like an egg in quick sand and he wore simple, blue work overalls. He was losing his hair on his head and what was left of it was gray and stringy.

“Buzz… zzz… and as of September the 5th operations in Belgium will begin to secure Britain and Western Europe’s national safety. Do not panic, Britain will triumph against the Axis and against Hitler! With the help of the Allies, the Axis don’t have…” the broadcast continued to fill the room as Roger returned to his own seat. He looked over to his wife. She scowled at him, and he drew his gaze back. He felt the need to make it up to her and stood up, began walking to the kitchen and stopped mid trip turning to his wife and saying, This whole sentence seems rather run-on and hurried. You're trying to cram a bunch of actions into one sentence; try wording it like this: He felt the need to make it up to her and stood, starting to walk to the kitchen. He suddenly stopped midstride and, turning to his wife, asked, "Can I get you a cuppa, Marie?" You see how that's easier and not so rushed? “Can I get you a cuppa Marie?”

“I could bloody well do with one!” Sshe exclaimed, staring at the ground.

Roger looked at her, pondered in thought momentarily, and then said gallantly, “Well, my dear, in that case – get off your backside and get one yourself!”

Marie just laughed.

“What’s funny?” Roger said in disgust, worrying his comment had backfired on him.

“Oh, nothing dear.” She continued to chuckle.

“Marie, don’t be childish.”

“How dare you! You’re the one being childish. You tell your own woman to get her own cuppa? That’s disgusting Roger!” She stood out of her armchair Sorry, I don't know how someone can "stand out" of their chair. and told him off like she was his mother. “We both know perfectly well you’re going to get me a cuppa because you’re a naturally born gentlemen. So my dear, it is you who is being childish!”

“Marie, I am tired of this. May I insist that you’re not going to be my woman for much longer if you don’t realise your place!” He decided his best bet would be to fight back and he continued, “Don’t think that because you're my wife, you can talk to me as if you were my senior!” Roger was in panic of where his argument was heading. He knew for one that he was too passive to not make her a cup of tea, but at the same time knew he was threatening their marraige over it.

“Roger my dear, please stop! Don’t make your woman feel so bad about herself!” She cried. “Just go make us both a cuppa and we can sit and listen to the radio together.” Her mood had clearly altered. Roger huffed like a child who couldn’t get his own way.

“I will Marie.”

“Thank you,” she said smiling fruitfully. Never heard of someone smiling like that.

He realised there was no point in continuing as she had obviously decided to take him on a guilt trip. Roger advanced into the kitchen and put some water over the stove to boil.

***********************************************************************

Chapter One



Three years later - 1942
Belgium

“I want your name.”

“F-fuck you…”

“No, your name.”

“And… I said… fuck you!”

“Well, Mr. Fuck you, if you don’t give me your real name, I shall be forced to put you under a lot of pain.”

The man was speaking with a heavy German accent. He was of medium build and stood in gray Nazi overalls, You need a semicolon here, a regular comma makes it too much of a run-on. his eyes were a deep blue and his wispy gray hair was covered by an officer’s hat that crowed over the man’s dark gray eyebrows. A pair of gold, thin-framed spectacles sat on his perky nose. He was pacing back and forth in a black room; the only light was the illumination of the moon outside that had weaved its way through the barred slit windows near the ceiling. Momentarily the Nazi’s gloves were lit to reveal a coating of dark red blood. It was clearly from the other man’s face, a man who appeared to be more of a corpse, his face hanging to the ground and he sat with a crippled, arch back. You've started with one mode of describing (his face was hanging) so keep with it (and his crippled back sagging, for example). His face was covered in blood and bruises from where he’d been hit. It looked yellow, red and purple all at the same time and it was very disfigured – probably a fractured jaw and a broken nose. The Nazi turned to the sweating disfigured man one more time and peered deep into his eyes. His gaze was cold.

“I will ask you one more time.,” Hhe said without blinking, his arms steady on his prisoner’s weak shoulders, “what is your name?”

The prisoner managed to look up and give him an ugly grin,. “And… I’ll tell you one more time… fuck… you!” the prisoner spat at the Nazi’s face.

The Nazi blinked and slapped the man with the back of his hand. He walked a couple of steps away and pulled out a handkerchief. He wiped the lenses of his saliva-covered spectacles. If he was angry he didn’t show it, he appeared to be relaxed and he was breathing steadily. He walked towards a small, lit tray of tools and smiled to himself. “Now this shall be very hard for you.”

Suddenly before he could pick up a tool another Nazi, this time dressed in all-black overalls but with a single, red Nazi flag band, which was strapped round his arm, stepped into the room. He saluted to the interrogator. This new man was extremely well built. His jaw was muscular and his hair was a thick blonde, he had dirty brown eyes and a layer of unshaven bristle on his cheeks, chin and neck. He was far taller than the grey haired Nazi and clearly had more authority as the smaller Nazi backed away when he’d entered. He had realised that the new guest was SS.

“Mr. Von Schlick, I require a word with the prisoner.” Said the SS Officer in German. Von Schlick nodded slowly and his face became emotionless. The SS Officer turned to him and growled, “alone Von Schlick.”

“Obersturmführer, may I see your ID? The Führer told me to make sure I get information… and well if you’re not who you say you are-”

The Obersturmführer interrupted, “Yah, this is my ID…” he reached for his pocket with his left hand, but with his right he quickly delved into his holster and ripped out a Luger pistol shooting Von Schlick three times in the chest. He Not too clear who "he" is here (though I know it's Von Schlick); probably going to want to clear it up. was thrown back and the tray of tools was knocked to the ground, his body was left to lie in a pool of his own blood.

“Don’t worry Von Schlick, you’ll rest in peace yet. This room is sound proof.” Groaned That's more of a "I'm-in-pain" word. "Grunted" would work just fine in this case. the Obersturmführer in bad English. The prisoner was watching wide eyed, but you couldn’t tell because his disfigured face made it look like he was squinting. He laughed.

“Ha! All you fucking Nazis are the same! Shootin’ your own people. You disgust me you bastard!” The prisoner dramatically tried to scramble free of his imprisonment but couldn’t wriggle through the rope. His wrists began to bleed.

“Shut your mouth Corporal.” His Again, whom are you referring to specifically? English was better now.

“What… I’m no corporal you ass! You rotten German scum!” He cried as he pushed again to get threw the rope. Blood trickled from his hung face and his burning wrists.

“I am no German, corporal. Now stop moaning, this may be a sound proof room but if you carry on they’ll hear your fuckin’ moaning in Berlin!”

The SS Officer drew a knife from his holster and cut the rope that was tied around the corporal’s wrists, and then cut the rope round his legs. The corporal reacted by quickly kicking at the Officer’s legs to bring him down, then pulling up his face and intended to then repeatedly punch him until his face became a pulp of blood and fragmented bones. His attack failed and after the first punch he broke his knuckles on the Officer’s square jaw. This was enough time. The officer grabbed his knife and hit the corporal with the butt of it, not hard enough to knock him out, but to give him enough time to bring his mind to the reality of the past few minutes’ events. The man grunted as he lay on the cold stone floor twisting back and forth.

“Corporal, I’m with British intelligence. I’m on your blitherin’ side!” said the officer and gave him a kick in the lungs for bruising his jaw. “You’re not as tough as I thought.”

“Well Mr. British intelligence, firstly I’ve had my face battered in by some old tart in leather gloves and then a fancy undercover SS officer hits me with the butt of his blade.” He groaned and got to his feet, “Secondly, what the bloody hell is a British intelligence officer doing rescuing a bloody Corporal? Especially when he could be snipin’ that Hitler’s fucking brains out of his skull.”

“Ah, trust me, if I had no debts to repay or no friends, I’d happily leave you here and go to shoot some fella’s brains out. Unfortunately your old man, Roger Testing and your lovely Mother, Marie, happen to be part of a division of the British Intelligence. Well, when they found out we knew you were being imprisoned, well, it felt morale that I’d go and get you out. As well as your old man being quite insistent we do something.”

“Fuck me. Even the British are bastards. You saying that you rescued me because I’m the blood of two old knockers who like to earwig German radio communication? Christ! I miss the days when they’d rescue people simply because of their service to their country.”

“This is war, not paradise. Going to tell me your name Corporal? It’ll save me a few syllables.” The officer laughed.

“Like I told the Nazi here, fuck you.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll just call you Reg and you’ll go along with it. You can call me Carter.”

“How about I just call you an immoral shit?”

“Because Reg, that would be a waste of fucking syllables.” Hahaha great dialogue here!

The two of them laughed, however Reg seemed more sarcastically, and then Carter changed his mood; the authoritive man was coming through again.

“Right, Reg. Put on that Nazi’s uniform. We can’t fight our way out, so we’ll do it the old fashioned way. From a distance they won’t look twice at you, but up close you’ll have to keep your head down. Any trouble, you take after me. Got that Reg?”

“Yeah, I got that. Besides the facts that if I keep my head down, it might be a bit of a fuckin’ give away if my face is hanging off and bleeding.”

“Well, take that dead lad’s handkerchief and give your face a good wipe over, eh?” he gestured towards the corpse that had been sprinkled with silver tools.

Reg crowed a groan again, not too familiar with this type of phrasing you've got. and ripped the handkerchief from the body. He wiped his face painfully and squirmed when he felt his saliva from it. Carter was busy stripping the interrogator’s clothes, and Reg mumbled at the thought of having to wear them.

“How’s my face look now?” snarled Reg.

“Blimmin’ beautiful, now get off that blood soaked prisoner overall and stick on this fella’s clothes.”

“Carter, what about the bloody holes in the shirt. Three of ‘em as well! Couldn’t you have just shot him between the eyes?”

“Stop moaning. They won’t be noticed. Besides, the cover story is that the prisoner attacked you, I killed the prisoner, and I need to get you out to find out what you’ve learnt. Genius, eh?”

“We best hope these Nazis are fuckin’ retarded.” Reg laughed.

“No worries, Joshua. They are.” Carter grinned.

“Joshua? Oh for fuck’s sake. If you knew my real name why didn’t you just use it?”

“It’s no longer your name. You’re Reg. You need an alias, and you’ve now got one. Besides, Joshua is a waste of syllables.”

They both laughed and Reg nodded in acceptance. He scrambled over to the body with a crippled back. He put on the German overalls like a whining child. Slowly pulling the boots onto his feet, replacing his shirt, putting on a grey jacket and smirking at the medals it was decorated with as if they were his. Carter watched out through the door for any activity, but peered at Reg with one eye, amusing himself with what he saw.

Two uniformed Nazi privates approached from the corridor outside. Carter turned to Reg and his eyes burned at him, “Hurry up, before one of these half wits decides to wander on in ‘ere!”
End critique


Okay, closer to the end I stopped pointing out every little dialogue error I noticed, but you seem to get the punctuation and capitalization mixed up quite a bit, so I'd suggest checking out this link, it's soooo great: topic44898.html

Your descriptions get a bit confusing at times, too, so I'd keep an eye on those, and make sure it's blazingly clear to the reader who's getting shot and who's being rescued, etc. The last thing you want is a confused, and therefore frustrated, reader.

Aside from that, your writing is well-paced and your dialogue especially is great; I love the settings you're depicting through the conversations and interactions of the characters. I'm really able to get the feel for each one's personality, which is great.

Keep up the good work!

Thankyou for clearing this up.

Very interesting.

Just to clear up the "strong language" bit, there is a mandatory rating on works that have the f-word. You can have absolutely nothing else that requires an 18+ rating, but if the f-word shows up then your work will get rated 18+.

I checked here to be sure.

18+: A topic should be rated R if it has any of the following elements:
- Graphic content
- It is sexually explicit
- Has strong language

Oh dear, lol. I had a debate about the rating when I first put this up It started out as 18+, but someone said that was wrong so I went to 16+, now we're back to 18.

A little confusing

*Wow Ben, that is a big rating. Well, I'm about to write my very first story that would deserve that same rating *

*changed to 18+ for strong language*

Thanks for the feedback
and

I'm no good at history, so I can't tell which information is entirely true, but I like how you've put so much thought into the research. It adds a lot to the piece.

This is amazing. Historical fiction can be a bore to people outside the genre, but this kept me reading all the way through. It seems most of the little things have already been picked out, so I'll not go into that.

Your introduction to these two people listening to a radio was a little vague, maybe you could describe the setting a bit more, like, rather than saying a small room, add a little description of what kind of room it was.

I'm no good at history, so I can't tell which information is entirely true, but I like how you've put so much thought into the research. It adds a lot to the piece.

Just watch out for repeated words, that happens a few times. Try not to repeat words too much in the same sentence or paragraph, especially verbs or nouns. Finding alternatives will also help to boost your vocabulary.

Bumped for further feedback.

Thanks a million BeautifulDoom!

Packs of positive feedback, really makes me feel good about writing! Love it!

Cheers again.
Ben

(P.S ~ Pro review method )

Hey, Ben! :] Here I am to review your story. I'm gonna do a really thorough review, because you've always done the same for me! xD By the way, I really appreciate it. Okay, enough rambling. Here I go! (In a very pretty color.)

“People of Britain. On this day of 3rd September 1939, Britain and France are at war with Germany, following the invasion of Poland two days ago.” The radio crackled and breathed out a fuzz of noise into the small room. Good description, and great way to start the chapter. I like the quote, it makes the setting seem more authentic. Great! In the room a man and a woman, their mouths gaping wide, listened like a hawk. I like this line. The woman squinted to try and hear the speech above the buzzing. The man glanced up to his wife before quickly looking back and imitating his wife’s actions. Before he could make the right face the woman changed her expression and began to seem angry. Hmm. I like this line, but I suggest you make it flow better. Maybe put something like: "He couldn't make the proper face in time, and the woman changed her expression so that she looked angry." Just a suggestion, though. It's totally up to you!



“Roger, you bloody blitherin’ idiot! Fix the radio!”I love how you can tell they're British, with the slang and everything. She cried and began whaling her arms hopelessly murmuring about anything that came to mind, “Well Roger? Have you done it? Come on! Chambers is tryin’ to tell us somethin’ that might be important!” This makes the reader wonder what they're trying to hear, and wants to read more. Excellent.



The man simply carried on pondering over the electronics and didn’t say a word. Haha, I love the word "pondering". Sorry. XD



“Roger!” His wife cried.



“Oh for God’s sake, woman! I’m bloody doing it aren’t I?” He shouted and towered over his wife.Great imagery. His outbreak had happened so quickly, she was genuinely frightened and shocked. Probably shocked he had the nerve more than anything. As soon as she noticed his confusion she took her stand.



“You listen ‘ere, Roger! No-one, no matter who you are, takes a tone like that to a woman!”Haha, I like her. She desperately tried to scramble into a position that made her look superior; “I’m naturally annoyed that you’re takin’ so darn long to fiddle with that radio when we’re tryin’ to listen to Chambers! Do you not know a war has broken out?” This is really good for character development. It shows that the woman is not someone who is going to be messed with.



“Marie, I am sorry – but I do insist you be more patient,” Roger replied before returning to the radio. He picked it up and shook it around a little.



Marie had thrown herself backward into the armchair that stood in the small front room. Her face was wrinkled and her neck hung saggy under her eyes. She wore a simple, black sweater and a grey skirt. Her expression was blank and irritated but at least she was quiet.Paints a picture in the mind of Marie. Good description. I especially like how you said what she was wearing, it kind of hints that the people you are talking about are not rich. Roger, on the other hand, was her opposite. His body was rounded and plump, his head sat on him like an egg in quick sand and he wore simple, blue work overalls. He was losing his hair on his head and what was left of it was gray and stringy. Again, same thing with Roger. xD



“Buzz… zzz… and as of September the 5th operations in Belgium will begin to secure Britain and Western Europe’s national safety. Do not panic, Britain will triumph against the Axis and against Hitler! With the help of the Allies, the Axis don’t have…” the broadcast continued to fill the room as Roger returned to his own seat.Sets the scene again and reminds the reader of what is happening. Good job! He looked over to his wife. She scowled at him, and he drew his gaze back. He felt the need to make it up to her and stood up, began walking to the kitchen and stopped mid trip turning to his wife and saying, “Can I get you a cuppa Marie?” Shows who the more dominant one is!



“I could bloody well do with one!” She exclaimed staring at the ground.



Roger looked at her, pondered in thought momentarily, and then said gallantly, “Well, my dear, in that case – get off your backside and get one yourself!” Oh SNAP.



Marie just laughed.



“What’s funny?” Roger said in disgust, worrying his comment had backfired on him.



“Oh, nothing dear.” She continued to chuckle.



“Marie, don’t be childish.”



“How dare you! You’re the one being childish. You tell your own woman to get her own cuppa? That’s disgusting Roger!” She stood out of her armchair and told him off like she was his mother. “We both know perfectly well you’re going to get me a cuppa because you’re a naturally born gentlemen. So my dear, it is you who is being childish!” Your character development is great. This paragraph shows what kind of personality both of them have. It makes the reader get an opinion about these two characters.



“Marie, I am tired of this. May I insist that you’re not going to be my woman for much longer if you don’t realize your place!” He decided his best bet would be to fight back and he continued, “Don’t think that because you're my wife, you can talk to me as if you were my senior!” Roger was in panic of where his argument was heading. He knew for one that he was too passive to not make her a cup of tea, but at the same time knew he was threatening their marraige over it.



“Roger my dear, please stop! Don’t make your woman feel so bad about herself!” She cried. “Just go make us both a cuppa and we can sit and listen to the radio together.” Her mood had clearly altered. Roger huffed like a child who couldn’t get his own way.



“I will Marie.”



“Thank you,” she said smiling fruitfully.Hmm. Not entirely sure about this word.



He realised there was no point in continuing as she had obviously decided to take him on a guilt trip. Roger advanced into the kitchen and put some water over the stove to boil.



***********************************************************************



Chapter One







Three years later - 1942

Belgium



“I want your name.”



“F-fuck you…”



“No, your name.”



“And… I said… fuck you!”



“Well, Mr. Fuck you, if you don’t give me your real name, I shall be forced to put you under a lot of pain.” I like this line a lot because it transforms the setting from peaceful to violent. It makes the reader want to keep reading. Great!



The man was speaking with a heavy German accent. He was of medium build and stood in gray Nazi overalls, his eyes were a deep blue and his wispy gray hair was covered by an officer’s hat that crowed over the man’s dark gray eyebrows. A pair of gold, thin-framed spectacles sat on his perky nose.Good description. He was pacing back and forth in a black room; the only light was the illumination of the moon outside that had weaved its way through the barred slit windows near the ceiling. Momentarily the Nazi’s gloves were lit to reveal a coating of dark red blood. It was clearly from the other man’s face, a man who appeared to be more of a corpse, his face hanging to the ground and he sat with a crippled, arch back. His face was covered in blood and bruises from where he’d been hit. It looked yellow, red and purple all at the same time and it was very disfigured – probably a fractured jaw and a broken nose.Wow. REALLY good description here. I like how you told what his injuries were. The Nazi turned to the sweating disfigured man one more time and peered deep into his eyes. His gaze was cold.



“I will ask you one more time.” He said without blinking, his arms steady on his prisoner’s weak shoulders, “what is your name?”



The prisoner managed to look up and give him an ugly grin, “And… I’ll tell you one more time… fuck… you!” the prisoner spat at the Nazi’s face. Nice!



The Nazi blinked and slapped the man with the back of his hand. He walked a couple of steps away and pulled out a handkerchief. He wiped the lenses of his saliva-covered spectacles. If he was angry he didn’t show it, he appeared to be relaxed and he was breathing steadily. He walked towards a small, lit tray of tools and smiled to himself. “Now this shall be very hard for you.” Suspensful. I like it.



Suddenly before he could pick up a tool another Nazi, this time dressed in all-black overalls but with a single, red Nazi flag band, which was strapped round his arm, stepped into the room. He saluted to the interrogator. This new man was extremely well built. His jaw was muscular and his hair was a thick blonde, he had dirty brown eyes and a layer of unshaven bristle on his cheeks, chin and neck. He was far taller than the grey haired Nazi and clearly had more authority as the smaller Nazi backed away when he’d entered. He had realised that the new guest was SS.



“Mr. Von Schlick, I require a word with the prisoner.” Said the SS Officer in German. Von Schlick nodded slowly and his face became emotionless. The SS Officer turned to him and growled, “alone Von Schlick.” This kind of puts wonder in about the new Nazi. It makes the reader wonder what's going to happen.



“Obersturmführer, may I see your ID? The Führer told me to make sure I get information… and well if you’re not who you say you are-”



The Obersturmführer interrupted, “Yah, this is my ID…” he reached for his pocket with his left hand, but with his right he quickly delved into his holster and ripped out a Luger pistol shooting Von Schlick three times in the chest. He was thrown back and the tray of tools was knocked to the ground, his body was left to lie in a pool of his own blood. Intense. Good description, and well-written too.



“Don’t worry Von Schlick, you’ll rest in peace yet. This room is sound proof.” Groaned the Obersturmführer in bad English. The prisoner was watching wide eyed, but you couldn’t tell because his disfigured face made it look like he was squinting. He laughed.



“Ha! All you fucking Nazis are the same! Shootin’ your own people. You disgust me you bastard!” The prisoner dramatically tried to scramble free of his imprisonment but couldn’t wriggle through the rope. His wrists began to bleed.



“Shut your mouth Corporal.” His English was better now.



“What… I’m no corporal you ass! You rotten German scum!” He cried as he pushed again to get threw the rope. Blood trickled from his hung face and his burning wrists. This definitely shows the prisoner's opinion on Nazis.



“I am no German, corporal. Now stop moaning, this may be a sound proof room but if you carry on they’ll hear your fuckin’ moaning in Berlin!”



The SS Officer drew a knife from his holster and cut the rope that was tied around the corporal’s wrists, and then cut the rope round his legs. The corporal reacted by quickly kicking at the Officer’s legs to bring him down, then pulling up his face and intended to then repeatedly punch him until his face became a pulp of blood and fragmented bones. His attack failed and after the first punch he broke his knuckles on the Officer’s square jaw. This was enough time. The officer grabbed his knife and hit the corporal with the butt of it, not hard enough to knock him out, but to give him enough time to bring his mind to the reality of the past few minutes’ events. The man grunted as he lay on the cold stone floor twisting back and forth. Shows that the newer character is very strong and could probably beat up other men. Good description of events, by the way.



“Corporal, I’m with British intelligence. I’m on your blitherin’ side!” said the officer and gave him a kick in the lungs for bruising his jaw. “You’re not as tough as I thought.”



“Well Mr. British intelligence, firstly I’ve had my face battered in by some old tart in leather gloves and then a fancy undercover SS officer hits me with the butt of his blade.” He groaned and got to his feet, “Secondly, what the bloody hell is a British intelligence officer doing rescuing a bloody Corporal? Especially when he could be snipin’ that Hitler’s fucking brains out of his skull.” Haha, I love this.



“Ah, trust me, if I had no debts to repay or no friends, I’d happily leave you here and go to shoot some fella’s brains out. Unfortunately your old man, Roger Testing and your lovely Mother, Marie, happen to be part of a division of the British Intelligence. Well, when they found out we knew you were being imprisoned, well, it felt morale that I’d go and get you out. As well as your old man being quite insistent we do something.” This explains a lot. It kind of clears up who the two people are and their relation to the couple in the beginning of the chapter.



“Fuck me. Even the British are bastards. You saying that you rescued me because I’m the blood of two old knockers who like to earwig German radio communication? Christ! I miss the days when they’d rescue people simply because of their service to their country.”



“This is war, not paradise. Going to tell me your name Corporal? It’ll save me a few syllables.” The officer laughed.



“Like I told the Nazi here, fuck you.”



“Well, in that case, I’ll just call you Reg and you’ll go along with it. You can call me Carter.”



“How about I just call you an immoral shit?”



“Because Reg, that would be a waste of fucking syllables.”



The two of them laughed, however Reg seemed more sarcastically, and then Carter changed his mood; the authoritive man was coming through again. Hmm. What do you mean by "coming through"?



“Right, Reg. Put on that Nazi’s uniform. We can’t fight our way out, so we’ll do it the old fashioned way. From a distance they won’t look twice at you, but up close you’ll have to keep your head down. Any trouble, you take after me. Got that Reg?” It shows that Carter is a very assertive person.



“Yeah, I got that. Besides the facts that if I keep my head down, it might be a bit of a fuckin’ give away if my face is hanging off and bleeding.”



“Well, take that dead lad’s handkerchief and give your face a good wipe over, eh?” he gestured towards the corpse that had been sprinkled with silver tools.



Reg crowed a groan and ripped the handkerchief from the body. He wiped his face painfully and squirmed when he felt his saliva from it. Carter was busy stripping the interrogator’s clothes, and Reg mumbled at the thought of having to wear them.



“How’s my face look now?” snarled Reg.I love it when writers use different words than "said". I like that you used "snarled". It's more creative.



“Blimmin’ beautiful, now get off that blood soaked prisoner overall and stick on this fella’s clothes.”



“Carter, what about the bloody holes in the shirt. Three of ‘em as well! Couldn’t you have just shot him between the eyes?”



“Stop moaning. They won’t be noticed. Besides, the cover story is that the prisoner attacked you, I killed the prisoner, and I need to get you out to find out what you’ve learnt. Genius, eh?”



“We best hope these Nazis are fuckin’ retarded.” Reg laughed.



“No worries, Joshua. They are.” Carter grinned.



“Joshua? Oh for fuck’s sake. If you knew my real name why didn’t you just use it?”



“It’s no longer your name. You’re Reg. You need an alias, and you’ve now got one. Besides, Joshua is a waste of syllables.”



They both laughed and Reg nodded in acceptance. He scrambled over to the body with a crippled back. He put on the German overalls like a whining child.I love the comparison. Paints a picture, once again. Slowly pulling the boots onto his feet, replacing his shirt, putting on a grey jacket and smirking at the medals it was decorated with as if they were his. Carter watched out through the door for any activity, but peered at Reg with one eye, amusing himself with what he saw. I think instead of saying "amusing himself with what he saw", you should put ",very amused by what he said". I think that reads better.



Two uniformed Nazi privates approached from the corridor outside. Carter turned to Reg and his eyes burned at him, “Hurry up, before one of these half wits decides to wander on in ‘ere!”Hmm. I feel that you could make this ending a bit better by putting in more suspense, to make the reader excited for the next chapter.

Thanks Karsten.

Hi Ben,

Just a few quick comments on the opening.

I'm slightly confused by the level of historical accuracy here. I love the fact that you're using the original German terminology, complete with umlauts - but I'm less in love with the fact that you didn't use Chamberlain's famous and instantly recognisable declaration of war. It's this, by the way:

"This morning, the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final note, stating that unless we heard from them by 11 O'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received and that consequently this country is at war with Germany."

Thankyou so much for the feedback.

Okay, I thought I reviewed this but.. I guess not. :/ I read it, at any rate.
Random Nitpicks/ Things that annoy me

BenFranks wrote:“Well, Mr. Fuck you, if you don’t give me your real name, I shall be forced to put you under a lot of pain.”

BenFranks wrote:Obersturmführer

BenFranks wrote:The SS Officer drew a knife from his holster and cut the rope that was tied around the corporal’s wrists, and then cut the rope round his legs. The corporal reacted by quickly kicking at the Officer’s legs to bring him down, then pulling up his face and intended to then repeatedly punch him until his face became a pulp of blood and fragmented bones. His attack failed and after the first punch he broke his knuckles on the Officer’s square jaw. This was enough time.

BenFranks wrote:“This is war, not paradise. Going to tell me your name Corporal? It’ll save me a few syllables.”

Thankyou for your review!

Wow. Okay, I am surprised you have only one other review. This story was so well written and such a pleasure to read!

Okay, so I don't have any nit-picks, I believe Stella got them all anyways.

Characters
Should I call him Reg? Yes I should.
So I do this thing when I review most peoples works. I judge their characters good or bad by how well I can remember their names. And good for you, I do. It means to me that the characters are meaningful enough for me to get to know.

Reg
So we first encounter a man named Roger and a woman named Marie.
Then we later find out that Marie is Reg's mother, right? I love how you did that. It gives us a sense of where he comes from. So that now, even though we have only heard a few words from him, and don't even know what he looks like, we have a sense of where he came from. I feel like I have been reading about Reg for a few chapters. He is a wonderful character. I love his fu's. They make sense, though I have a sense that he's an idiot for the simple fact that he attacks the person who is trying to save him.

Carter
All I want to say about him is that I can tell he is a character I am going to fall in love with. Whether he turns out evil or good, I just love him already.

Setting
I am not completely sure where they are. Have you ever seen Hostile? Well at the end a boy is being killed by someone else blah blah blah, but it is in this creepy room. The walls are vertical boards and light seeps through them. I have a feeling that the room is not like this, because it is soundproof, but since you didn't give n explanation, I don't know what it looks like. Please tell us, I would love to know.

Plot
Hmm, well you left me with a big mystery I would love to know: Why were they interrogating Reg. If carter doesn't find him important enough to save, then why did the Nazi's keep him prisoner?

I really like this, on to the next installment.

~Classy

Thankyou, I found your review very helpful . It's only rated 18+ until I get confirmation of the language! I find your dialogue tips very useful and I'm making changes as we speak! Thanks again
Ben

Hey Ben! I don't believe we've met. Hello and welcome to YWS! You can call me Stella and I will be your reviewer today.

You know what I always find funny? How under eighteens rate their work eighteen. It's hilarious. But since you wrote it, I feel justified in reading it. *rubs hands together in historical fiction -related glee*

I. NITPICKS

following the invasion of Poland 2 days ago.”

into the small crowded room.

“Oh for God’s sake woman!

“Marie, I am sorry – but I do insist you be more patient.” Roger replied

She wore a simple, black v-neck and a gray skirt.

“Don’t think that because you were born with authority and I’m naturally well mannered and passive, that you can talk to me as if you were my senior!”

Mr. Fuck you,

The man was speaking with a heavy German accent. He was of medium build and stood in gray Nazi overalls, his eyes were a deep blue and his wispy gray hair was covered by an officer’s hat that crowed over the man’s dark gray eyebrows.

a single, red Nazi flag band,

and your lovely Mother, Marie,

P.S: The reason for the amount of dialogue is that I use dialogue as a motor to my story, as opposed to narrative. However, not in the sense that I'd rather it were a play, but in a conversational narrative.