paradisalogs | (no subject)

Who: Hans Von Hammer and OPEN
What: A fighter pilot arrives in the castle...
When: Now and when you arrive
Where: A corridor somewhere
Rating: PG, probably

"I am no longer your enemy..."

Those had been his words to the American soldiers, as the Messerschmitt jets exploded behind him. His last act of duty to a dying land, under a tyrant he despised. Then there had been...light. He had thought that death had finally caught up with him, that his turn had finally come.

Then he landed. And it hurt, landing on stone. He rolled on the ground for a moment, gritting his teeth, then sat up suddenly. No, this was neither heaven nor hell - frankly, it had the air of some of the aristocratic homes he had seen over the decades. Interesting, but he was alert - wary for traps.

He stood up, blue eyes surveying the immediate terrain. Anyone seeing him would see a man in a WWII Luftwaffe uniform - but the Pour Le Merite medal hanging at his throat pointed to an older, and very different, origin.

He whipped off the cap, with its hated symbol, and tossed it aside. Time to get to the bottom of this.

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"It appears so," he said, calmly.

He looked the man over, and out of respect, saluted.

The surprise on Geary's face is evident, but he still salutes back crisply.

"I'm Captain John Geary, Commander of the Alliance Fleet." He pauses. "Probably not any Alliance you know of."

He looks around the corridor. "And this place is Paradisa."

"Oberst Hans Von Hammer."

He thought for a moment.

"Former Luftwaffe, former Luftstreitkräfte - Imperial Air Service. And Paradisa? I would have thought 'paradise' to have more gardens and less cold stone."

Geary frowns, as he can remember ancient historical documents he was forced to look at when on school field trips to the Sol System mentioning stuff like that. He nods. "Impressive service record, Oberst." He says, assuming the latter is a rank.

"Paradisa isn't so much paradise, though."

"I had assumed. The word that most immediately comes to mind,"

He looked around, slowly.

"...is 'prison'".

"I would agree with you there." Geary says, nodding. "But most prisons don't let people wander about, nor have whatever they want apart from an escape."

A pause. "Better word would be 'hostages'" Though he's not happy with that, either.

"Hostages against what?"

He doesn't much like the sound of that either.

"It's the castle that's keeping us here. So, I'm assuming that's what's keeping us hostage."

Geary motions at the walls. "Some people think magic, others think advanced technology." He's a believer of the latter.

"I see," he said, watching the other man carefully.

"What happens if we attempt to leave?"