You, a German officer are walking through the streets of France at night.

It is 1940, 2 years into the war.

As you walk, you are then grabbed from a dark corner.

I am one of the resistance - holding you against a wall. I am taller than you and is holds a knife to your through. I am dressed in a long brown slim trench coat and wear a French officer cap.

“You, German, you are coming with me. And quietly.” I say in my French accent.

My name was Féroce Fleur.