A Walk in the Park [Ludwig]

It was one of those days, those mid summer days that were nothing more than boring. The sun was high, making it somewhat uncomfortably hot in their thick clothes, there was no work to be done and most of the prisoners were being social. Arthur didn't like being social. It didn't help that they were also between shipments of guards, so they were rather thin on the ground, so he really didn't have anyone to play mind games with. He couldn't mess with Vargas, he didn't really have the heart, the kid was too innocent, and he didn't know enough about many of the other guards. There was a new kid he hadn't seen around much yet, but he was young and seemed headstrong, probably as frustrated as Arthur was to be kept her. Until he properly knew his boundries, he didn't want to play his usual tricks.

He sighed, playing with his fingers. He would catch his death of boredome here. No tea, no cigarettes, no chocolate. Nothing to distract himself apart from the games the Americans were playing. He didn't want to play with the Americans, besides, he had no cigarettes to wager with them. He didn't want to play poker anyway.

He stood up and yawned, sighing. He could try to escape, he supposed, but they'd taken away all his escape things, such as the trusty spade/spoon that he had lovingly crafted. They had agreed not to, but then they were leaving and they didn't want him trying to escape when there was only a pitiful handful of guards in here, because god forbid he actually escape.

Do you know what? He was just going to walk out the front gate. At least he could take a nice walk, even if he didn't get very far. He stood up and started to walk briskly towards the front gate, with purpose. He unlatched it and pushed it open, it was surpisingly light, he could at least open it. He strode through and took a deep breath. Ah... fresh air, how wonderful. It was nice being able to walk out this door without a guard having a tight grip on his arm. He swore they would put him on a lead eventually.

Ludwig was on edge. Nothing was happening; all the prisoners were behaving well, doing nothing that could be considered remotely suspicious, and that made him all the more suspicious. They were trying to relax the guards, make them lazy and unobservant, so they could get away with escape. His superiors had briefed him about one inmate in particular- a Brit named Kirkland, who had already made countless escape attempts since his arrival two years ago. Though clearly none of them had been that successful, it was still important to keep tabs on him- he was a troublemaker and likely up to no good.

He patrolled the camp, eyes keen, looking out for anything out of the ordinary, anything he could call a prisoner out on. He reached the gate and was about to walk back in the other direction when he did a double take- the gate was wide open... How the hell had this happened? Surely there should be someone manning the gate? Guards in the watch towers to shoot people attempting to open the gate? Speaking of which, who was opening it? A scruffy looking blond man with a nonchalant expression and intimidating looking eyebrows.

"You there!" He shouted, taking his gun from his holster. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He asked, not really caring about the answer, and pointed his gun at the prisoner. He'd seen this one around before, he was sure, but he'd never stuck out as someone particularly troublesome- just another prisoner. That he would try something so bold as walking out of the camp like this in broad daylight astounded him.

Ah, there we go, that hadn't taken long. He contemplated what to do for a moment. He could run, but that would likely get him shot and besides, he didn't feel like it. He didn't even look back, just gave a small smile and continued on his stroll. There was a gun pointed at him, he could just see from his peripheral vision.

The silly boy was speaking German, as if he would understand. Half the prisoners here didn't speak a word of it, and even his knowledge was shaky. He would just pretend he hadn't heard anything, for now. Just for a few more moments, he wanted to be a truly free man, (and piss off the guard).

The prisoner was ignoring him. "Hey!" he shouted, more irritated than before. Perhaps he didn't understand German? Ludwig knew a little English from school and from training, but he was reluctant to use it, as it was just another thing for the prisoners to mock. "Excuse me!" he started in English. "Th-that is not allowed." His accent was embarrassingly thick, he knew, but at least the prisoner couldn't pretend not to understand him. "Get back here now or I will shoot." That was the extent of his English- a few phrases picked up from his superiors. He knew he had the right to shoot him now, but he didn't want to cause any kind of big trouble, considering it was only his second month here.

It was almost adorable hearing him speak English, he was terrible, but better than some of the guards. His English was by no means as good as Arthur's German, but he was hardly going to make it easy on the guard by speaking German. "Come on, old chap," he said briskly, but trying to be clear, "It's a fine day, can't a man take a walk?"

He knew, or at least, hoped, that he wouldn't shoot. He was calling his bluff, and it was a big bluff to call. He didn't recognise this guard, so he didn't know how he'd react, he'd only seen him around. If it was Drescher or Cole, he would be sorted, but they were off to the front. Arthur envied them, really. They may have been nazis, but at least nazis who were able to fight.

"Do come and join me." He grinned a little manically. He wouldn't run, not at all, he'd just keep walking. He probably wouldn't get any further than this.

'Old chap?' Who did he think he was? A friend? He glared at the prisoner, who seemed to think this was all some kind of joke. "No, you cannot." he said flatly, not lowering the gun for a second. He could shoot him. He could kill him for trying to escape, set an example to any other cheeky prisoners who thought it might be fun to make an obvious attempt at escape and taunt the guards. He could do it if he wanted. But he was reluctant to pull the trigger. The man wasn't exactly making a serious go of escaping- if anything, it felt like he was trying to get in trouble. It wasn't worth shooting him over. All the same, the prisoner didn't know that, and the gun provided good leverage.

That said, no matter how unwavering he was in pointing his gun straight at him, aimed perfectly for the bullet to pierce his chest and rip through his heart, the guard still did not seem to take him seriously. It was infuriating.

The unsettling smile on the inmate's face as he invited him to join him left Ludwig wondering whether he was truly mad, that he'd perhaps taken a blow to the head or one too many bouts in solitary. No matter. He wouldn't spare him his punishment, mad or not. "No, thank you." he replied, voice cold and little more than a growl. If the prisoner moved an inch further out of the camp, running or otherwise, he would pursue him.

He saw the gun pointed at him but he didn't waiver at all. The boy could barely be 20, he'd likely never shot anything before. He continued to smile innocently and slightly madly. After all, he had nothing really to live for, and he doubted the man would shoot him anyway, not for walking slowly out of the camp. He hadn't been shot for running out of the camp, even. He didn't know this guard, true, but still, chances he would shoot were low.

He sighed. "You don't want to come? What a shame. I suppose I'll have to go by myself. Back in an hour or so." And he turned back, continuing to walk towards the forest.

He was being mocked, he knew it. The prisoner thought he had some kind of superiority, as if Ludwig's uniform and his gun didn't exert any sort of control over him.

"You'll do no such thing!" He barked, reverting back to German. His finger was curled around the trigger, waiting for the prisoner's next move. He wouldn't shoot him, no, too much hassle. He could scare him though. Shoot near enough to him to give him a fright. He had startling accuracy. "Do not move another inch!" He ordered in English this time. He wanted to make it perfectly clear to the prisoner what his intentions were. He could calmly return to the camp without a fuss, or he could be shot, pursued, caught, locked in solitary confinement. It was his choice.

Arthur knew he should be intimidated. This guard was a good few inches, nearly a head above him, tall, young and relatively muscular. What they were doing wasting him here, Arthur didn't know. However, despite the gun and the angry German, Arthur found he couldn't care. Perhaps he was desensitised; after two years of being stuck here, he had grown accustomed to big strong German men pointing guns at him.

Slowly, the guard was becoming more and more frustrated. Arthur was surprised he hadn't been shot yet or at least grabbed. He wasn't far enough away from the camp that he could not easily caught by a mere moment of sprinting. He wasn't going to run. "Don't move only an inch? Fine, I'll move more than that." And he proceeded to take a rather large, rebellious stride forward. "So, do you have a name?" He asked, continuing to walk.

The prisoner proceeded to calmly walk out of the camp with an exaggerated stride. He'd brought this on himself, Ludwig thought, he knew what was in store for him if he disobeyed a guard, and yet he seemed not to give a damn. He hadn't wanted to waste bullets like this, but he knew if he ran after him it would only end badly for him, so he aimed his gun, eyes narrowed, ignoring the prisoner's question, and pulled the trigger. Of course, he had no intention of actually shooting or hurting the prisoner, not yet at least, so he aimed for the bullet to hit the ground just where the prisoner was about to step. Hopefully it would give him a start or at least shut him up.

Arthur knew he had visibly jumped when he'd heard the gun go off, and the surprise left a bitter taste in his mouth. But he couldn't show how much it had scared him. Arthur snorted, "You missed." He said, but he knew he could have easily been hit if the guard had wanted to hit him, "You shouldn't waste bullets, they don't grow on trees." He reminded him. He wondered if the guard understood the idiom, his English didn't seem that good. Worse than Arthur's German, though.

Arthur turned around. He should really go back now, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to yet, he was finding this quite amuusing. He could at least play a little longer, the guard was young and cute. Arthur could mess with him easily, he already had.

Ludwig smiled slightly as he saw the prisoner jump, but his victory was short-lived as he snorted in derision and continued to mock him. He frowned at his comment regarding wasting bullets. "Well I will put the next one to better use then." Actually, he was quite pleased with that; he wasn't normally very good at comebacks.

He felt relieved as the prisoner turned around, thinking maybe he was finally relenting, but he seemed to hesitate. Ludwig didn't lower his gun. He didn't want to waste any more bullets, but perhaps a shot through the foot might slow the impudent Briton down a bit.