ATannie- this is the end chapter 9/9

    >She closes the heavy door behind her and walks towards you
    >you don't really manage to analyze her very well
    >partly because you are scared and partly because you're tired
    >You hold the rifle pointing left in front of you, hanging from straight arms, since it looked unthreatening and your arms were pretty tired at this point
    >Her dark brown eyes narrow as she gets closer to you
    >You were a little scared already, and her rather menacing look didn't help much

    “Traveler. What are you doing here”
    >”She got h-hubris i think”

    >Your tired arms lift the rifle up so she can see it properly
    >It looked really, really bad with all the damage it had endured
    >As if it was about to fall apart if you set it down
    >The mother almost cringes at the sight

    “And you fired her”
    >”Th-that was her last words. “it's my time to protect you. One clip, make it count””

    >Annie did say “I love you” after that, but it felt wrong to say that now. Boasting almost

    “So you say. I assume you came here for me to help her?”
    >”For anything at all you can do for… Her”
    “Her name?”
    >”Annie. Her name is Annie”
    “So it is. You will stay outside, and I will take her inside to my workshop. There is clean water in the fountain. Anyone who has gone this far has deserved that at least”

    >The mother takes Annie from you
    >You would like to have held it a little, showing her you loved Annie
    >But you were genuinely scared at this point, and you let the rifle be taken from your hands

    >She turns around without a word and heads into the Villa, which was really a castle
    >And so, you had let your beloved PTRS-41 go
>It so gives you an opportunity to look at the mother somewhat
>She had long, dark brown hair
>Her uniform was distinctively WWI or something like that, but it was actually hard to tell where exactly it came from
>It definitely had Germanic touches to it, but it wasn't quite there either
>within a minute she is back through the door
>you're left standing outside
>A line of tanks on one side and a row of artillery and antitank pieces on the other

>That water fountain did look very appealing, and you stumble over to it
>you lower your hands into the cold, crystal clear water and lean in to drink a little
>it tastes almost indescribably good, clear cool and oh so refreshing after a very long night
>After slaking your thirst and gathering a little more strength, you walk over to a nothing short of gigantic gun, an artillery piece running on stubby looking tracks
>You thump down on the gravel and rest your tired legs for a moment
>In some surreal way the ancient track seems soft against your back
>Just as the calm air lulls you into a state of safety

>It was all so tranquil
>The big castle, the neverending green alps, the light breeze, the warming sun
>it seemed so lasting. Like it had looked like this for a hundred years and will keep doing it for another hundred years
>Despite resting on what actually was a Soviet 203mm siege howitzer, you got a feeling of safety
>you were almost lulled into it, listening to the soft, warm wind and the clouds passing by
>your eyelids started feeling heavy
>it was probably inappropriate to fall asleep on sacred grounds
>was this sacred grounds?
>to a Geist, probably. To you? You were unsure

>After 10 minutes of being worried about Annie, you thoughts wandered to home. Wonder what the others were doing?
>sleeping, probably. It was 2 am or something there

“Okaaay~ that's that!”
    >Amanda shuffled around a little in her seat, reading the chat log on the computer screen
    >Next to her, Lala was tied up in a rather restricting and very revealing position
    >Overlooking the two, a little webcam

    “Now for the next of our Tip-requests!”

    >Amanda's voice was lined with excitement and lust

    “Wow, fifty dollars! Thank you soooo much for the super generous gift! Now, let's see what you want…”

    >Lala clicks a few buttons on the computer before getting the message up

    “Ohh, more ears! They seem to be popular tonight? Right, my little kitty?”
    “Mmmpf!”

    >whatever Lala tried to say, it was greatly muffled

    “Let’s make you purr, little kitty!”

    >Amanda’s hand found its way towards Lala’s Head and started stitching the eyes, provoking very interesting reactions from her
    >Amanda was biting her lower lip, seeing Lala shiver at the attention she is given
    >minutes pass by and Lala starts making a low, vibrating, rumbling noise
    >The chat messages were flying past at an amazing speed

    “That's more ears, you guys happy?”

    >the chat explodes once again, and much of it was in all caps

    “Wooow, ok at that viewer count!”

    >Amanda is beyond amazed at the number in Red at the bottom right of the screen

    “Tell your friends, people, we get another zero on the viewer count there and I'm gonna give the kitty her toys!”

    >Half an hour later, Doll tosses her 6th cigarette butt for tonight on the ground
    >The infernal noise from upstairs hasn’t ended when she thought she would
    >it was almost 3 in the goddamn morning and the Amanda and Lala still were making noises so she couldn’t sleep
    >...
    >They done now? doll thought to herself. They had been quiet a few minutes now
    >And then, a long, bone piercing… sound which could have been a howl just as much as a moan
    >Doll slams her face in the table, walks out to the garage and heads for somewhere else
    >literally anywhere else that wasn’t here would be good

    >Meanwhile, on a swiss alp-top you figured they would behave well at home
    >you are in a state of proper exhaustion
    >the jetlag, lack of sleep on the flight, lack of sleep during the night, not eating properly and the long walk was really taking its toll on you
    >you were tired
    >oh so tired
    >and the Serenity of the place, even while resting on a siege howitzer was incredible

    >and just as you were about to surrender to the sandman, gravel crunches under boots towards the castle
    >The same uniformed figure is walking towards you
    >And thank God, with that big rifle in her hands
    >You stand up as she approaches, to show respect
    >anything to help Annie

    “Your name is Anon, is it not?”
    >”Yes, yes it is”
    “I heard so. I listened a little to Annie”
    >”She's out?”

    >You said that with way more excitedness than you would have wanted

    “No. Just a friendly look through her thoughts”

    >She lifts the rifle up, almost without effort and puts it down on the track of the artillery piece you had been resting on

    “This, Anon, is a destroyed rifle. It's a miracle the bolt didn't seize up inside it and got stuck. But due to my experience, and probably a lot of resilience from her, I managed to get the bolt out”

    >She takes it up from a pocket in her jacket and hands it over to you
    >it is in a very, very bad condition
    >cracks, scratches, rust and discolored metal all over it
    >The bolt handle wasn't far of being snapped off completely

    >”Th-that’s…”
    “Yes. Her soul is still in there, but as you might have guessed, it is extremely painful for her to be in that”

    >It was very hard to look tough right now

    >”Is… Is th-there anything-”
    “Shh. Now comes the part where you listen to me and not say a word. Understood?”

    >Doing your very best to hold back tears, with limited success, you simply nod to her
“Annie is stuck in the bolt, and she can't stay in there because of how painful it is. There is three ways to fix it. First way is to set her free. Most hammers, my vassals, so to say, can do this. You met Angela. She gave you directions here. They will shatter the bolt against a special anvil, and her soul will return to the… Let's call it a well”
>”Well?”
“Say a well of souls. Every time a new firearm needs a Waffengeist, the bolt gets infused with a soul from the well”
>”She… Wouldn't be the same, would she?”
“That's the least of your concerns. First off, even I would have extreme difficulties finding her specific soul in the well. And even if you out of blind luck found her new gun, as near as makes no difference all of her personality is gone. Memories, feelings, ideas, gone. However, you made the journey to me. I could help you further, in two ways”
>”Whatever you can do for her, anything, please…”
“The second method, is that I can bypass the well. I Shatter the old bolt, but keep her soul close long enough to get a new bolt to put her in. However, all new metal means lots of her memories will be lost”

>Somehow, that didn't feel much better at all
>Would you be able to see her in her eyes
>and know she can't remember you?

>”Will she remember…?”
“You? I can't promise anything”

>You can't really say anything in response to that
>You pick the bolt up and hold it in your hands for a moment
>she was in there somewhere
>could she feel you being lifting her?
>would she hear you if you spoke?

>“Annie, I'm…”

>what were you going to say?
>was there a point of saying it?

>”I'm-”
“Stop! Argh…”

>She turned around, her fists clenched and eyes narrowed

“Ich hasse diesen Teil von mir”

>She mumbles that before turning back to you
“You. You're in a bit of a special place right now. Not only because you helped those of my kind but because Annie had a few good things to say about you, I'm going to offer you a third option, for the bolt itself. This requires a deed and a sacrifice. You've done the deed already. Can you do a sacrifice?”
>”Will I get her back?”
“I will repair the old bolt. It will take time and some very precious resources. But she won't forget anything”
>”I'll do it”
“I haven't told you what has to be done”
>”So tell me. I'll still do it”

>She nods at the rifle, hinting you to pick it up
>you take it, and she takes the bolt and walks towards the castle
>However, she doesn't enter through the front door, but walks around to a smaller door near a little patio
>she opens a door and you follow, trying to get the 7 foot rifle through some doorways and passages
>And then, the workshop


===================



    >The workshop itself was situated below the sleeping quarters
    >This way, the fire from the furnace kept the rooms above warm in the biting cold winter through clever use of waste heat

    >you were led down by the massive main staircase
    >this were probably where the raw materials were delivered

    >on the far wall was a smelter and a sizeable furnace, being fed by a unending, ethereal flame

    >a little closer were the heavy machinery
    >Grinders, lathes, mills, a massive cold hammer forging machine and a few stamp presses with their dies

    >Closer still were the fine machinery
    >rifling machines, several of them
    >There were polishers, and machines for deburring and inspection tools

    >and in the corner just to the right of the big staircase was equipment for parkerizing and bluing

    >a little path to the left led to a narrow staircase and the carpentry
    >There were a few big saws, grinding stones and sharpening tools, but more importantly, all manner of hand tools, far more than most even knew existed
    >An entire wall in this room was filled with oils for wood treatment, and the opposing wall has blocks of raw wood, of at least three dozen different sorts, all waiting for a metal tool and a masters touch

    >in the corner of the carpentry were a few injection molding machines, for making polymer components. Rarely used, but still there

    >on the opposing side from the carpentry, to the right from the main staircase was another door
    >But what happened in there was not for human eyes

    >The entire workshop was breathing in a hot, heavy atmosphere breathing of iron, oil and fire
    >the floor was limestone, once polished and shining but now it had scars from the test of time
    >The wall over the furnace was black with soot
    >everywhere else there was just a light coating, but that could have been metal flakes as well
>It felt like nothing else you had ever been
>It was equally difficult to put your finger on what it actually was
>Too large to be a workshop, too small to be a factory
>There was a lot of machines, but most, if not all, required skilled hands to operate
>The machines themselves were clearly old, very old, but they all had an aura of quality
>that lasting feeling really old buildings has
>When they were made by a heavy material, dug up from deep within the earth by large men in chequered shirts and hardhats and not made in a laboratory by people in white coats and slim spectacles
>Everything here was rock and steel, and a little wood

>She steps down the stairs and fills her lungs with the heavy air inside
>as if she was returning to where she belonged

>She puts down the rifle on a workbench with something like forty drawers for tools underneath, all neatly marked
>and then turn around to look at you

“This is where the craftsmanship happens. Magic is over there. But before all that, the sacrifice”
>”I'm ready for whatever”

>She leaves, and comes back
>in her hands is a bowl and a little wooden box

“I need iron. A special kind of iron. Not much, but it's hard to get”
>”How much?”
“About half a gram should be enough”

>She nods at the little box, wanting you to open it
>inside, a long, thin metal object.
>It was hollow at closer inspection
>And incredibly sharp in one end

“A liter of blood”
>”What?”
“I need the iron from blood to fix the bolt. And I imagine you don't want anyone else's blood in her. Fill the bowl to the brim”

>The metal object was a needle
>You get incredibly cold all of a sudden

“One liter is about the upper limit of what a healthy adult can lose. You wanted to save her, didn't you?”
>”Y-yeah i did. So to fix the bolt...”
“Yes. I will get something from the armory. Get to work”
    >And so you were alone with a stool, a big needle and a bowl
    >you pull the sleeve up, revealing your left arm
    >you've always had quite prominent veins, so finding somewhere to get it from wouldn't be difficult
    >was the arm even the right place to do it?
    >leg was better?
    >you had absolutely no idea

    >and so, with zero medical knowledge, the needle slowly gets pushed into your arm, letting the red, clear liquid pour into the bowl
    >it's just a little stream, and it pours slowly slowly
    >watching the blood pour out of you was surreal
    >this was your flowing force of life, and it was leaving you

    >It was so agonizingly slow
    >but what could you do?
    >This was for Annie
    >She would have done the same for you
    >...right?

    >A could of heavy, dark thought approaches you
    >It clings to you like a warm, sticky fog
    >it was a seed of doubt
    >Lots of very very bad thoughts start filling your head
    >questioning
    >if it all was worth it
    >This could kill you after all

    >no
    >This was about Annie
    >for Annie
    >The one you loved
    >the best god damned girl in the world
    >And while things undeniably looked pretty right now, you would spend a lot of time regretting things if you pussied out now

    >so you simply returned to watching the blood flow out of you
    >it felt like hours
    >As the bolt got closer and closer to being filled
    >Your eyelids were heavy
    >There was a feeling of almost feeling out of breath from just sitting down
    >That was the effect of blood loss
    >exhaustion, light headedness, drowsiness and being thirsty

    >What feels like another few hours pass by as the bowl fills up
    >At long last, you can get the damned needle out of you, and put some pressure on the little cut to stop the bleeding
    >It was only a little hole, and you could quickly stop the leak
    >Sitting in front of you was almost 20% of the blood you had in you an hour ago
    >And as if she had been watching you, she returns a moment later
    >She looks at you, probably looking very weak after the ordeal, and then the bowl

    “I’ve seen many complain less, but few with your determination”
    >”Th-thanks…”

    >She sighs a little and looks you straight in your eyes

    “Regrettable as it is to say, I've withheld information from you”
    >”Wh-”
    “Shh. You have done a deed and a sacrifice for her soul. But, you cannot put the repaired into the old gun. Not only would it be incredibly painful, but the bolt is in risk of seizing up again. And I will not help you a second time”
    >”I have to… find another rifle”
    “Yes. Sadly, it was in remarkably good condition before you ruined it, so if you do get your hand on another one in the US, which I very much doubt, she will sadly be far from the beauty she was”

    >She was right. Anti tank rifles back home were not only as rare as rocking horse shit, but also soul-crushingly expensive, especially one in good condition
    >further thoughts were interrupted by her voice again

    “Don't look crushed. I'm going to offer you something. For her now body…”

    >She heaves up another PTRS on the workbench

    >This example was nothing short of perfect
    >Beautiful black steel all over, well polished
    >And it didn't show the crude workmanship or machining marks that the old one did
    >All little parts were perfectly machined and fit with precision rivaling match grade target rifles
    >Not one single scratch or mark anywhere on the vast gun
    >And it was so clean
    >So perfectly clean you doubted it had ever been fired
    >The wood was much lighter in colour than on any other PTRS you had seen
    >probably made from beech or birch
    >And gazing over the receiver, it had a serial number consisting of nothing but zeroes

    >You probably had your mouth open a little
“What do you think?”
>”Hand on my heart, gun to my temple, it's the most beautiful rifle I've ever seen”
“Of course it is. I made it with my own hands, in this very workshop”
>”Practice makes perfect. And that is as far as my untrained can see, just that”
“A deed and a sacrifice for the soul. What about trial for the body?”

>The ordeal wasn’t over

>”What…”

>Even speaking proved difficult in your weakened state
>You take a deep breath and try again

>”What do I have to do”
“Prove you can discard the old for the new. And make sure no one ever ends up in the old rifle. Cut it up”
“Wh-”
“Shh. Barrel in 10 centimeter pieces, 12 in total, there are metal saws in the appropriate drawer. Same for the receiver. I want any and all of the moving parts in the weapon to be cut up in 3 pieces for the small parts, for the bigger ones, 10 centimeter rule applies. I'll leave you to that while I care for the bolt”

>before anything could be asked she had taken the bowl and the bolt and headed of
>You were left with the once gorgeous looking PTRS you found in someone else's garage quite a while ago
>How pretty Annie was…
>But then again, Annie was pretty before. What kind of beauty would she be if she was worked by the hands of the mother herself?
>Annie deserved this
>Sadly you were as weak as you've ever been
>You had through a transatlantic flight, a whole night of driving, the fight in the tunnel, a very bad lack of sleep and you were now feeling the effects of quite heavy blood loss

>The second drawer from the top and the third one from the left contained saws for cutting iron
>they all looked well taken care of. But not new
>they beautifully crafted wooden handles you rarely saw on anything nowadays
>you pick up one of the larger ones, and gently rest it on the barrel

>”S-sorry”
    >And with a single draw, the saw's teeth cut in and start digging deeper into the steel
    >It was an almost physical pain to see the rifle with little metal flakes pouring out of the cut in the barrel
    >You had done a little bit of woodworking, but cutting steel took a lot more time and t effort
    >All idea of time was gone
    >By the time the muzzle brake hits the workbench with a dull thud, you had no idea if it had taken five minutes or an hour
    >But there was no time to waste
    >And you put the saw up on the barrel again
    >Just as before, the saw dug into the barrel with that godawful, hoarse metallic sound

    >The entire barrel was cut to bits, eventually
    >Your arm was tired, and hurt, but it wasn't anything to the lump in your throat or whatever you felt in your stomach
    >That hurt more
    >way more

    >You took off the furniture, and cut that up
    >the wood prover rather soft after sawing through steel

    >And then opened it up
    >The internals were very, very badly worn, and there was residue everywhere

    >There was nothing to do but to keep going

    >more time passes by. More sawing, even more. Endless sawing
    >Most light in the workshop was artificial, but the sky probably had a touch of red to it
    >You sat on your knees inside a steaming hot, oily workshop far from pretty much everything
    >many hours had passed since the saw first met steel
    >all that remained was almost 50 lbs of jigsaw puzzle
    >all cuts were rough, and badly done due to your fatigue
    >Your whole right hand was a mess after all the sawing and repeatedly hitting it into things
    >before you lay a rifle broken into a hundred pieces
    >before it kneeled a man broken into a hundred pieces
    >You were only less broken than Annie in a physical sense
    >And that was diminishing quickly
“That took a while”

>What must have been pretty dead eyes look back up at her

“But so, there is a bit to cut”

>You nod a little and stand up, didn’t feel dignified for anyone to have a discussion when you were kneeling
>But the ordeal finally took its toll on you
>The grip you had on the table leg wasn’t as strong as you thought
>Your hand slip, and you fall
>Tumbling down, your head hits the stone floor and everything goes black for a second

“You’re not sleeping on the workshop floor”

>A half irritated voice tells you
>The other half had something softer feeling behind it, but you couldn’t really tell what it was

>”S-sorry”

>She hands you an old metal bottle

“Drink. Most of what you have lost is just liquid, and you will have it back by tomorrow if you drink properly. The red blood cells, however will take months to get back”

>You flail around a little, reaching for the bottle
>It contained that godlike fresh water
>you gulped it down like it was nothing, your body was practically screaming for water

>”Not making a good impression, am I?”
“Had it been normal circumstances, you would have looked pretty bad, yes. But it isn't. Stand up, Traveler”
>”Yeah, sorry”

>You manage to to get up, legs parley carrying you

“Come with me”

>She leads you out of the workshop, outside and then in again, through a much smaller door and up a winding staircase
>There is a corridor upstairs with a few rooms
>She points at a rather small wooden door

“Wash, drink and sleep”
>”Sorry i don-”
“Shush. You’re a mess. Rest”

>This was really not someone to argue with
>So you stumbled into the little room, and fell face first into the bed
>And slept
>And slept


===================


    >You hear something
    >Wait, where are you?
    >where is this?
    >And Annie?

    >It takes you a few moments to regain your sense of direction
    >Up is… that way

    >You’re in a little room
    >A window overlooking mountains
    >Right, the alps
    >Switzerland
    >Rifle mother

    >There was another series of knocks on the door

    >”Wha..?”
    “Annon?”
    >”Yeah”
    “Are you decent?”

    >You never took your clothes off… whenever you went to bed

    >”Ye-”

    >You’re wearing neither boots, jeans or a shirt
    >It’s quickly fixed by pulling up the blanket up to your neck

    >”Yeah, i’m decent”

    >The door opens and a woman steps in
    >Her skin is cocoa brown, as are her eyes
    >Her hair is neatly tied up in a bun
    >She’s dressed in a long, black dress with a white apron covering up most of the front

    “I am Yvonne”

    >She says as enters the room with a little tray

    “The madame insists you eat”

    >Yvonne storms into the room and sets the tray down on the nightstand

    “I have washed your clothes since you failed to do so on your own”

    >Just as she said, the clothes you’ve had… for a little too long were neatly folded and put on a chair

    >“I thought she was alone here” you say, fighting the blood loss induced headache
    “Tsk tsk. This is a castle and there are many things to do”
    >”Do you work here?”
    “For the moment. I don’t think anyone apart from the madame works here permanently. But many work here for shorter periods of time”
    >”Why?”
    “Several different reasons”

    >She has a rather thick french accent

    “Sometimes a shooter cannot give what the mother demands, or an agreement is made to stay here and work a debt off”

    >”So someone is coming to pick you up?”
    “No”
    >”Oh. So why are you here”

    >You take and eat a piece of the food she has brought you as you await her reply
“It is a great honor to work on sacred grounds. It is something many of us wants to do, to assist the madame once in our life”
>”Ah. I see. And, are-”
“Nono, enough chatter. Madame is waiting. Eat, was and get dressed. I will take you to her when you are ready”

>Yvonne bows politely and walks out of the room with a brisk pace
>You’re left with your food and clothes
>Figuring these are people that shouldn't be kept waiting, you ate the little collection of foods quickly and washed yourself as best you could, considering the lack of a shower
>There was a bathtub and a tap, but it was a little late now
>the clothes were warm
>had they been ironed?

>You're out less than ten minutes later, looking for something you recognize
>Yvonne makes an appearance soon after
>She looks at you, nods a little and asks you to follow her
>her steps are brisk, elegant and somehow dignified at the same time
>You descend the same you ascended yesterday
>The pathways, the winding stairs
>Eventually, you stand in front of the black workshop door
>Yvonne knocks three times, with quite some power
>Some voice is heard from inside, but it wasn’t Annie, you could tell that much
>Yvonne opens the door for you, and follows you down into the workshop

>The mother stands by a table but doesn't look up to you until you’ve gotten a bit closer
>Yvonne curtsies politely and then leaves the workshop

>The mother looked a little worn
>But not a bad worn, as after a long march or a battle
>But a comfortable worn
>Like after long hours at the gym
>And she was riding a wall of endorphins, a light coating of sweat on her forehead
>She was for the first time since you arrived, smiling
    >“Uhm…”
    “Your Annie-”
    >“Is she okay?!”
    “-is not a pushover, i’ll tell you that much”
    >”Oh. I’m well aware”
    “She resisted and fought. A lot”
    >”Sh-she fought you?”
    “Not physically. I’m not mad”
    >”Phew”
    “A bit of resisting is hardly unreasonable considering what i did. But as much as she did...”
    >”P-please, is she…”

    >The mother snickers a little

    “Yes. She is”

    ~ ~ ~

    >Back home, Gnevny ran around the house
    >The one she trusted most, after Annie of course, was Doll
    >Gnevny puts all of her almost 65 pounds of body weight behind her shoulder and slams into Dolls bedroom door

    “Doll wake up you have to come right now!!”

    >Gnevny runs up and leaps into Doll with considerable force for a 14 year old girl

    “Wake up! wake up! wake up!

    >Gnevny pushes her head, pulls her hair
    >To no good at all
    >Doll had a vibrator in one hand and a bottle of Absolut in the other
    >She wasn’t going to get up for at least another hour
    >Gnevny runs out of the room, heading towards Lala and Amanda's room
    >She’s running as fast as her legs carry her
    >Sliding down the rails of the flights of stairs, her red hair flowing in the wind
    >She flies is to the loving couple’s room
    “Lala! Amanda! Wake Up, th-AAAHHHHH I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING SORRY”
    >Gnevny’s third pick was Cassie, the PTRD
    >She once again ran into the door, but bounced harmlessly off it
    >She was a small girl, and not a battering ram after all
    >Gnevny fell back at the floor

    >It kinda hurt....

    >Gnevny pouts, and whimpers a little
    >she blinks rapidly, her lower lip trembles
    >her inhalations become irregular and her exhalations became faster and faster
    >Water was building up in the bottom of her eyes
    >She was shaking slightly
    >Cassie opens the door having just stepped out of bed, and looks at the sobbing little thing in front of her

    “What’s happening?”
    “w-wake up…”

    >Cassie bends down and picks up the sobbing little thing in front of her

    “You scream like there are gooks in the wire, do i have to get the pig?”
    “n-no”
    “That what is it, little one?”

    >Gnevny lowers her voice to almost inaudible

    “It’s sunday…”
    “As much as i like you, little one, if you mention John Cena i will throw you out the window”

    >Gnevny looks confused

    “It's monster trucks on TV and I can't reach the remote”

    >Cassie laughs a little to herself and carries the little one to the living room and sets her down in a pile of pillows
    >The remote is taken down from the tall shelf and put into Gnevny’s hands
    >Within 20 seconds, the screen is filled with big trucks jumping, sliding and roaring
    >Cassie also makes sure to make the little one a cup of chocolate, and afterwards fall asleep on the couch
    >Sunday mornings are pointless and should be slept away anyway

    ~ ~ ~

    >You sat in the workshop, all alone
    >the mother had gone up the stairs opposite to the carpentry
    >That was the only place she had outright forbade you to enter
    >She was in there, with Annie
    >the two of them probably needed a little time alone before you got mixed in

    >you had gone up to the door several times to see if you could hear her voice, but to no avail
    >it was silent as a grave in there
    >You looked up the stairs
    >looking for any movement at all
    >any sound at all
    >anything

    >to your disappointment, the steps approached from behind when you finally heard them

    “I will take you to the nursery”

    >Yvonne was smiling
    >The next few minutes were a blur
    >halls, stairs, corridors
    >Yvonne stops outside a room marked “1-4”
    >She points at the door, smirks and heads away
    >you knock on the door lightly, and get an immediate response from inside

    “Come in”

    >It still wasn't Annie
    >Not that it stopped you going in
    >Another geist (presumably) dressed the same way Yvonne was dressed stood in a little little room that led onto a short corridor

    “The mother is inside with her now. You can see her when the mother leaves the room. Until then, please be patient”

    >She leaves as well
    >which leaves you on the stone floor in the little room
    >at least it was heated
    >a few eternal minutes later the mother exits and you fly up to your feet, filled to the brim with excitement

    “You will be careful, and you will be very easy with her. She's been through a lot of unpleasant things, and if you ruin everything now-”
    >”I'll never be able to see myself in the mirror again, I know”

    >She scoffs and slowly shakes her head, but with a smile

    “Room 4, first on the right. Go”

    >And from that moment on, the rest of the world was irrelevant
    >whatever they did, you didn't care
    >It was just this door now
    >The handle falls and the door opens an inch

    Da?

    >That was Annie
    >You push the door open all the way
    >You have no idea what the room looks like, apart from a bed in front of you and a little stool

    >”Hey Annie”

    >you tried really hard to control yourself and it mostly ended up with smiling like the fat kid riding the short bus to school, just after gulping down the last of the cherry flavored crayon

    >Her calm face lit up
    >First shock, surprise

    >”Remember me?”
    A-anon…

    >tears are becoming increasingly troublesome to hold back, so you push the door closed, and sit down on the bed
    >Annie couldn't speak
    >Her eyes were wet
    >you lean down onto her and wrap your arms tight around her
    >slowly afterwards you feel hers closing around your back
    >It was really her
    >You had Annie in your arms
    >everything in the world was good

    You…
    >”It's okay Annie, don't worry. You're okay
    You s-saved me
    >”A few hours behind the wheel is nothing for the best girl in the world. Nothing”

    >Her grip around you tightens

    Again

    >You simply hold each other a little while, before you carefully ease her back down on the bed again
    >but you still held her right hand with both your hands

    I owe you-
    >”Nope. You don't. I could have stopped at any point on the way if I didn't think you were worth it. But you are. So I didn't. Just don't run off?”

    >Her warm blue eyes look back up at you

    Never. I will never go. I will never-
    >Her voice was breaking up more and more
    >And this from someone who really didn’t cry

    >”Shhh. It’s okay”

    >You didn’t notice it all, but all worries about everything got washed away as her arms reached around you
    >You didn’t feel sore in your legs anymore
    >Was it even there?
    >it doesn't matter much
    >she was here
    >That was all

    >”Hey Annie?”
    Mhm…
    >”My sweet, lovely, beautiful Annie?”

    >Her breathing flutters a little

    Yes, Anon?
    >”Are you feeling well?”
    Yes

    >her reply comes immediately, she didn’t even give the answer a second of thought

    I think…? The mother gave me a new body
    >”She did, after a bit of persuasion. A rifle she made with her own hands”
    I… know

    >She takes another breath and creates some distance

    You’ve said i was pretty before

    >She’s worried now, looking back up at you
    >She just covered up chest with the blanket she had been lying under

    >”First off, that doesn’t matter at all, and second…”
    >You take a calm moment to just look at her
    >The biggest and most obvious change to her was her hair
    >Away was the magic pearlescent black hair
    >Annie now had very light blonde, almost white hair
    >Still as long as it was earlier, though

    >Her eyes were the same deep, warm blue
    >But they had the life back, something they didn't have a few days ago
    >Physically, she was not the shrunken down, weakened and starving Annie she had been
    >No, this is what she was like when you met
    >She was strong and well fed
    >All in all…

    >”Ehem, and second of all, you are eye wateringly beautiful, and i’ve only seen your face and shoulders

    >She embraces you again, with force this time

    That will be all for now, because you might get those hungry eyes, and then… it's not proper here
    >”Dirty, dirty girl… but did they not give you any clothes?”
    My old body came with clothes. This one didn't. But they said they would make me something to get home in.
    >”Doesn't it feel a little strange, a new body?”
    It feels like normal. Maybe something tiny I can't put my finger on.

    >You take one finger and slowly poke it on a breast, just above where she held the blanket to cover herself up

    Hey!
    >”Sorry, couldn't resist. Jokes aside, this is a lot better than when you were starving. You looked so fragile…”
    No more
    >”No more. Oh, and excuse me. I almost forgot to say i love you”

    >Her grip around you tightens even more

    >”Actually, that didn’t feel right”

    >You break yourself free from her embrace

    w-what, Anon?

    >You clear your throat

    >”That wasn’t quite right”

    >You get off the stool you were sitting on, get up on the bed
    >Straddling her, sitting just by her hips
    >You get a firm grip on her shoulders, making sure she isn’t going anywhere
    >She’s looking up at you with worried eyes
    >You look down into two deep blue wells, smiling

    >”Annie”

    >”My sweet, sweet, beautiful Annie. I love you”


========


>You spend the rest of the day with her
>Annie was well, if a little confused
>You told all what happened to her, and she held your hand very tightly during all of it
>Later in the afternoon, Annie is provided with clothes
>an elegantly simple blue and white sundress sown by one of the other Geists working in the castle
>She also needed a shoulder to hold onto for about half an hour when she learned how to walk again
>Not like you had any objections to helping her with that
>It just felt so good to have her with you again
>Evening fell, and despite Annie's sulking objections, the mother insisted she slept in a room of her own
>For a good reason, most likely
>The three of you met for breakfast the next morning, and soon found yourself standing outside the main gate, ready to go back down the mountain

I can't thank you enough, mom. For everything
>”You have my deepest, most sincere gratitude as well”
“It's quite okay. I'll probably speak to you again, rather soon. But I still have to make my mind up”
As much time as you need
“Yes. And I'd like to say, I don't want you to do this ag-”

>She stopped herself mid sentence, sighed heavily and then looked straight into you

”I've made a stunning rifle, and you would do best in appreciating it, as well as her”
>”I swear I will”

“So that's it. Goodbye”
>”Goodbye. And once again, thank you so much”

Wait… Mom, one more thing?
“It's amusing how everyone else says Mother, Madame, Mam and so on. No one calls me mom”
Oh, sor-
“Shh. It's not a problem. But you had something to say?”
Yes. Would you know where Dasjenka is?
“I couldn't tell straight away. But I will speak to you again. Sooner rather than later. Good bye”
>Annie nods, takes your hand and walks away from the castle
>It would take a few hours to get back to the car, if it was there after 3 days later
>It was also technically a stolen car, even if the owners might be dead
>so it would be driven to Zurich, where you would spend the night before finding a plane home
>You left the car at a big parking lot quite a bit from the center of the city and walked the rest of the way
>Annie had a firm grip on your right left hand, intertwining her fingers with yours, while happily humming as you walk through the city
>You looked at the buildings, the cars, Annie, the people, the parks, the trams, and Annie again
>Her new hair really draw attention to it
>It wasn’t quite white
>But it wasn’t very far off either, with just a touch of yellow

>”It has to be the new furniture that does that”

>You said that out loud

Hmm?
>”On the rifle. Your new furniture is birch… or was it beech? Unusually light color actually”
You will have to show me, i can’t see those things
>”Of course. But for now, your hair…”

>Annie smikred a little

What about it~
>”It’s beautiful. Who’d have thought”

>She wore a big smile
>But it somehow wasn’t a “pure” smile, one of happines
>it was a smirk
>Something telling you her intentions weren’t quite pure

>”So, we will find a hotel, i’ll treat you to a nice dinner out, and-”

>She doesn’t look entirely happy

>”No?”
Uhm… think we can find some half shabby hole in the wall with cheap and greasy food of questionable quality?
>”Sure, we could do that if you want to”
It’s for the best. And find a flight tomorrow
>”We might have to catch a train first”
That’s okay
    >you spend another hour walking around in the city before finding a hotel
    >Annie made sure to get a room with a “big, soft bed”, because she had “a sore back”
    >You just had a rucksacks worth of stuff with you, so it wasn't more to it that tossing that in the room, washing up, and then hurrying out as Annie’s eyes got hungry by just seeing the vast bed
    >So much so you got in your new clothes before leaving the bathroom
    >Annie didn't seem to mind too much however, but she claimed she had found a place to eat among the information brochures
    >It was a bit of a walk, again
    >Not that you mind much, it was all time spent with Annie
    >Good time

    >She stops before what is apparently a hole in the wall

    >”Here?”

    >Annie nods

    >It wasn’t much more than a little window with a rather slim looking guy

    “Guten abend”
    >”Uhh, english?”

    >The man shakes his head
    >Annie tries russian as well, to no avail
    >But it wasn’t that hard to figure things out
    >Money goes in one direction, greasy food goes the other
    >A 10 euro note goes into the window, and a few minutes later, some food comes back the other way
    >You had a burger, and Annie has something that looked vaguely like a kebab but had a name starting with “G”
    >It was a little disturbing how Annie managed to consume the entirety of it at a pace that would make a starved hyena lift its eyebrows and frown
    >Annie looked very slightly down at you and attempted puppy eyes
    >She tried her best, but she really didn’t do cute very well
    >But she did get a second “gyros” as they were called
    >the second one disappears at the same incredible speed
    >As does the third
    >The man in the counter was visibly uncomfortable at this point
    >Annie orders a fourth one and doesn’t break eye contact with him once as the fourth one is consumed
    >She neatly wiped of a little smudge of Tzatziki from her cheek, still not breaking eye contact and demanding a drink by simply saying “cola”
    >It was clear that dominance had been asserted over the slim man in the window, and he handed out a little can of bully, sugary drink and handed it to Annie

    >The two of you shared the drink on the way back to the hotel
    >You laughed, sang and skipped
    >Just being happy with each other
    >Following the streets and alleys to the hotel
    >up three stairs
    >along the corridor
    >fidget back and forth with a troublesome key
    >And then you were alone

    Anon sweetie, could you check if there is anything for us in the fridge?
    >”Oh, sure”

    >You wander over to the little mini fridge
    >It wasn’t to exciting
    >Some candy bars, snacks, some soda cans and… a small bottle of wine
    >You stand up, trying to get the bottle open while pushing the door shut with your foot
    >Naturally, since it had been here for a while the damn cap wouldn’t come of
    >The irritating little shit of a cap absorbed all you attention for a good 30 seconds
    >Probably the 30 seconds you really shouldn’t have looked elsewhere

    >”I can’t get this ca-”
    >You look up and see Annie by the door, making sure it is properly shut
    >her dress lies on the floor
    >Her beautiful pale skin is lit up by the reddish hue of setting late-summer sun
    >She turned around with that devious grin she had had earlier today
    >Then again, it was a little hard to look at her face
    >Physically she was pretty much the same
    >But due to the impeccable condition of the rifle, her complexion was nothing short of perfect
    >No marks, scars, moles
    >You couldn't even tell if there was a strand of hair anywhere that wasn’t her head
    >Sure, she had a little broad shoulder for a woman, but it led down down to a delightfully slim waist and wide, sturdy hips
    >Not to forget two sizeable mounds, that seemed to defy gravity, both topped by a little patch of (apparently excited) crown
    >From there, two pale, strong and absolutely gorgeous legs
    >And between that…

    I love it when you look at me like that~

    >Annie takes a step forwards and gives you firm push, making you stumble towards the bed

    The two last things you will forget, my love, is me and this night

    >She grinned
    >A lot

    >Many, many hours later you wake up
    >The sun is already high in the sky
    >your everything hurts
    >very much like having spent a night in a tumble dryer at 1200 rpm
    >But a love tumble dryer
    >And even more like something that had spend the in a tumble drying, you were drained of most liquids
    >Annie peacefully rested on your shoulder, with the most innocent of smiles and the messiest of hairs
    >It was a long, long time ago since you laughed and she giggled as much as that morning
    >All mixed with groaning from some some or another sore part of the body
    >Neither of you could keep a straight face when checking out
    >Especially when you let out a little yelp to fish out the wallet in your back pocket, since your arm was not happy at all with that angle
    >Annie was wheezing for air, all while making the situation from anyone in the room incredibly awkward

    >An hour later, Annie whimpered as she sat down on the train taking you off, sending you into uncontrollable chuckling
    >A favor she returned tenfold as you picked up the bag at the airport que and groaned heavily
    >She had to put her hands on her knees not to fall over from laughing
    >That all calmed down on the flight home
    >You cuddled up at the side, Annie resting on you
    >Sleep came quickly

    >Until two hours later when Annie’s attack sense all went to defcon 1
    >She pokes her head above the row of seats
    >Looking and listening
    >And there, three rows ahead of her is the soccermom that terrorized her with the reclining chairs on the way over
    >A flame sparks in her
    >Annie quietly leaves her chair, following the woman
    >Just as she opens the bathroom door, Annie pushes her in, locks the door and has one hand over her mouth and other on her throat, ready to restrict airflow at any second

    Listen here you little shit. You almost killed with me with your endless cuntery on the flight here Not because you had to, just because you are an asshole

    >She squirms a little, trying to shake Annie off
    >But as she soon tried that, a knee and more pressure on her throat very clearly signals

    No, going after you will be a bad idea, but if i put enough effort into it, i can ruin your children to the point where they call me “mommy” and have forgotten about you

    >the woman had tears pouring from her eyes
Or you can admit to being the little bitch you are

>The woman nods

Good. It’s not anything you are not used to though. On your knees

>this means Annie has to let go of her throat
>But a closed fist was held low, ready to meet any resistance with my force

We’re switching seats. Did you bitch for the flight attendant that you needed the bulkhead seats with more space?

>the woman nods

Good. And a deal is solved with a handshake. Well, you are filthy, meaning it’s not our hands, but more like your lips and my boot
“w-what”
Kiss. My. Boots

~ ~ ~

>half an hour later you sit with an emergency exits worth of legroom, and a happy Annie resting on your shoulder
>You never really did figure out why someone would trade these seats with you
>Not that you complained much
>somehow, at 35000 feet, and at 550 mph there was a certain serenity
>right here, right now it felt as if things would slow down from here
>Settle down
>no more weird stuff
>No more close to death scenarios

>Just as Neville chamberlain believed in “peace in our time”