OPERATION OVERCAST (Nerves of Steel mission)

Sergio stared in shock.
Blood? he thought. He slowly reached up and touched one of his horns. His fingers came away red. Blood? he thought again. Sergio had hoped his horns were not sharp enough the actually piece human flesh. They were curled back, framing his ears and skull more than anything. He was vaguely aware of someone shouting. When he looked up again, all he could see was the barrel of a gun.
He thought about bringing his own gun to bear, as well, but decided that would only exacerbate the situation. He could step forward and snarl at the man, but that might cause the gun to go off. He did what he decided would get him both out of the firing range and temporarily stun the ringleader:
Sergio sidestepped as quickly as his cloven hooves would allow, then swung his horned head once more, but this time in a quick arc aimed at the side of the paratrooper's body. This would hopefully to tip the big man off balance. If he could get both the gun away from the soldier and the soldier on the ground, he might be able to neutralize the situation...

((Just gonna clarify this, guys - if you're trying to do something in future (like tackle a guy, grab his gun, heal someone, gore a person etc.) post that you ATTEMPT to do the thing. That way, I get a say in what happens and can do the appropriate stat rolls and such. I'll let it slide for now, but in future, make sure you attempt things and don't just do them.))

As Akira yanked the Sten gun from the trooper's hand and squeezed the trigger, Sergio burst into action. The satyr was fast, but not quite fast enough - as he sidestepped, the paratrooper squeezed the trigger, the bullet slamming into Sergio's side. Grunting, the satyr stumbled back, clutching at the wound. The paratrooper adjusted his aim even as Thorsten scrabbled forward towards the satyr.

"Carter! Drop that weapon!" A voice rang out from the back, and the paratrooper paused. Pushing through the crowd, a man dressed in the uniform of a paratrooper wrests the pistol from the paratrooper's hands. Frowning, the man - wearing the insignia of a Major - turned to the assembled troopers. "You men call yourselves soldiers? Move along, all of you! We have a mission to prepare for!" The troopers quickly separated, leaving just the three attackers and the OPI operatives.

The man pointed to Thorsten, then gestured to the satyr. "Fix your friend up, there's a good chap." Turning to the three paratroopers, his expression hardened. "You three - barracks. We will talk more later." Shooting a glare at the satyr and his companions, the ringleader, Carter, bent down and lifted the wounded trooper to his feet. As the three strode off towards the barracks, the Major turned to the five OPI operatives. "You chaps have some explaining to do. Attacking your allies is hardly the best way to make new friends."

Sergio snapped to attention as best he could when the Major addressed him.
"Sir," he said, his voice a little strained. Bullet wounds really hurt. "I believe you may place the blame on me, sir. I was inspecting the glider," Sergio nodded his horned head at the plane behind him, "and I suppose I overstepped my boundaries. I apologize. However, I did find that the cable connection attaching the glider to the tow plane was loose." He paused here and drew in a breath. "I believe that we should tighten it before we take off, or the glider may release itself too soon, before the designated drop point." His face had turned pale as he addressed the major, but the satyr attempted to remain standing and at attention.

Sighing, Thorsten walked over to Sergio. "Hold still," he commanded. Thorsten then waved his hand over him like he had before and waited for the bullet to pop back out and into his hand as it had a couple times before with similar wounds he had witnessed.

Siegfried scowled as the last three paratroopers dispersed, then he turned to the major, whom he towered over. "Of course, ve started it, and the first thing ve'd do would be to assault your men in the middle of the runway where everyone could see it." Siegfried rolls his eyes at the moronic accusation, and continues.
"From vhat I saw, your men had surrounded Mr Clarke, and Sergio was doubled over. Such a situation suggests that 'VE' did nothing to start this."

It had all happened just a bit too fast. One moment everything was still under control and there were preparations for a serious brawl, the next moment there was blood, then a gun, then more blood. Jonathan was, to say the least, a bit perplexed. Turned out the only way to stop troopers with a grudge was authority, which had luckily appeared before anyone died.

"You chaps have some explaining to do. Attacking your allies is hardly the best way to make new friends."

"Well, tell that to your troopers, who seem every bit as judgmental toward people of other origins as the guys they're supposed to be killing. I see a lot of wrong things right there and then." Jonathan replied as he picked up his bag from the ground and more or less ignored the Major's authority. "And besides, we might've all been killed if our horned friend hadn't noticed that something was off about our transport." He patted the wounded satyr on the back as he said so.




((Crap, missed EVERYTHING... Now I just look silly... Damn you timezones!))

As Thorsten healed the wound, colour returned to the satyr's face and the bullet wound covered over as if by magic - which, in a way, it was. Rutherford's eyes widened slightly, but he quickly regained his composure and listened to Sergio's story. Frowning at Siegfried's outburst and Jonathan's thinly-veiled insults, the Major clasped his hands in front of him. "I'll have a word to those boys. You can't blame them entirely; they did watch their friends die at Arnhem at the hands of a rather, ahem, unusual group of enemies." Striding around to the front of the glider, the man clicked his tongue as he caught sight of the loose cable. Moving back to the group, he patted Sergio on the shoulder. "You're entirely right about this cable, old boy. Would be quite a blow to land short of the target, after all." 
Doffing his beret, the Major performed a short bow. "Major Henry Rutherford, at your service. First Airborne Division. I'll be commanding the chaps on this mission. Not my first time working with the Office, but you never really know what to expect." He chuckled at his own joke, replacing the beret upon his head. "I'm sure the boys won't hold a grudge. Well, the three that attacked you might, but the rest will follow my lead." He paused for a moment, glancing over at the barracks, then shook his head and muttered something to himself.
Before the group could reply, two men dashed out from the barracks towards the Horsa. Both were wearing the leather jackets and headgear of pilots; the first, an African-American man, dashed up to Rutherford, while the other headed for the plane the Horsa was hooked up to. The pilot looked surprised for a moment when he caught sight of Sergio, but quickly rallied, turning to address Rutherford. "Sorry t' interrupt, sir, but the crew says we're ready an' it's gettin' dark. Might wanna lift off soon." Rutherford nodded, then turned back to the operatives.
"You heard the man, chaps. Assemble your team and prepare for liftoff. Your equipment is already aboard."prised for a moment when he caught sight of Sergio, but quickly rallied, turning to address Rutherford. "Sorry t' interrupt, sir, but the crew says we're ready an' it's gettin' dark. Might wanna lift off soon." Rutherford nodded, then turned back to the operatives.
"You heard the man, chaps. Assemble your team and prepare for liftoff. Your equipment is already aboard."

((This was going to be longer, but I'll just do the rest when I get home. All you're doing is heading over to the plane. You can say you start looking for your equipment, but let me post saying what you find. All your stuff for the mission is inside a labelled duffelbag onboard the glider.))

Sergio nodded.
"Sir." He then turned to the man who had healed him. "Thank you, sir. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to go on the mission if you hadn't ... done whatever it was you did." He looked at the man quizzically. Not suspiciously, just curiously. "What," he began, "was that, exactly?" He motioned for the man to follow him around the glider so that they could climb in and take their seats. "Not that I don't appreciate it," the satyr said as he turned to the entrance and began to climb in. "It's just ... I've never felt anything like it. I think you will be invaluable as an OPI Operative if you can do that magic over again."

Nothing happened. The trigger never activated the hammer. Akira released the trigger and lowered the gun. "You chaps have some explaining to do. Attacking your allies is hardly the best way to make new friends." This spurred a torrent of conversation from the other operatives. From what Akira could hear, the paratroopers started the fight. Akira could do nothing but stand there andwonder what happened. Then the Major spoke. "I'll have a word to those boys. You can't blame them entirely; they did watch their friends die at Arnhem at the hands of a rather, ahem, unusual group of enemies." Striding around to the front of the glider, the man clicked his tongue as he caught sight of the loose cable. Moving back to the group, he patted Sergio on the shoulder. "You're entirely right about this cable, old boy. Would be quite a blow to land short of the target, after all."  This surprised Akira. "A loose cable?", he thought. "I thought they double checked that kind of stuff.". Then he heard the Major say the plane was ready. Eager to hold his katana again, Akira quickly moved off towards the plane. First at a slow walk, then he quickly moved into a sprint. He felt so eager to hold his katana. As he approached the plane, he slowed and looked inside the plane for the rest of his gear and his weapon. As he reached into the plane something poked him in the leg. Curious he saw the handle of a pistol. The pistol he grabbed from that paratrooper. He thought about returning it but tuen fought it would come in handy. He checked the bullets in the magazine and then proceeded to find his remaining gear and weapons.

(I assume Grom, you will want to dictate how many shots the pistol has or if I even get to keep it.)

"I've had zis power for a vhile now," Thorsten said quietly as he sat down next to the satyr in the glider, "I practiced using it on my patients in Leipzig, but I always made sure to hide it. I didn't want to attract attention from ze Nazi Party. Ze OPI told me zat my staff can amplify the healing powers. I could bring one of you back from ze dead if I needed to." Thorsten reached under his seat and found his equipment bag. He began to open it as the satyr replied.

Siegfried stifled a snort at Rutherford's comment about not being able to blame the paratroopers, but stayed silent afterward.
After Rutherford finished speaking, Siegfried turned to collect his shirt, jacket and gear from the runway, he put his shirt back on, but decided that his leather jacket was less than appropriate and put his M40 field jacket on over the shirt, he shouldered the leather jacket and hoisted his magazine pouches and pistol holster as he headed toward the glider.

Siegfried clambered into the glider, he passed some of the other operatives, looking for the bag that had his name on it, after locating it, he opened it.

Upon entering the glider, Jon instantly spotted his nametag on a bag placed under a seat, his seat he presumed. He sat down, positioned his backpack securely beside him, strapped himself in and took the new bag on his lap. He opened it and noticed several items upon looking inside.

Upon inspecting their equipment, the operatives found their weapons
stored neatly away. To their delight, they'd been cleaned and loaded
and were fully ready for battle. Akita was just settling down when the
paratrooper he'd taken the pistol from approached, snatching the
weapon back. Strapping themselves in, the team waited for the plane to
lift off.

The pilot called back from the cockpit, shouting safety instructions
the operatives quickly followed. The airborne infantry watched,
chuckling at the inexperience of the OPI team. A short burst of radio
chatter echoed through the glider, and the pilot yelled that they had
liftoff. The glider jerked forward as the powerful bomber taxied down
the runway, before the glider lurched upwards into the open air...

The men inside the glider were quiet. Some of the airborne infantry
checked their weapons, while others murmured to each other. The OPI
operatives exchanged soft words, but for the most part the atmosphere
was that of a nervous silence. The silence was shattered when the
glider was rocked by an explosion, sending bags of equipment flying.
The boom of anti-aircraft fire filled the cabin, and the pilot yelled
out something about a crash landing. The glider gradually tipped
downwards, its tow cables jettisoned. The glider silently descended,
the bomber banking for home. After minutes of freefall, the grinding
crunch of wood smashing into earth filled the cabin as the glider
touched down.

The airborne troopers snapped into action, grabbing their packs and weapons and moving to the exit. The operatives took a little longer, and by the time they vacated the vehicle, the airborne infantry were formed up, weapons in hand. The glider had set down in a large clearing, surrounded by trees. Rutherford stood out front, delivering orders to the men who promptly vanished into the forest. Rutherford turned to the squad, squaring his shoulders.

“Right. You’ve all read your orders by now, so you should know what to do. The rendezvous is practically due west. My men and I will reconnoitre the enemy position, then meet you at the rendezvous point. Remaining undetected should be your top priority. Good luck, chaps.” The officer smiled and offered a nod, then turned and followed his men. The OPI were left standing in the clearing alone, only the sound of the night creatures to disturb them…

((So we’ve landed in the clearing on the map (which you all have, by the way). You’ve all got your guns and equipment. It’s dark by now, and you’ve got to get to the rendezvous point. I’ll let you all gather your thoughts for a bit, then we’ll dash off. Take the time to check equipment, talk, plan and figure out which way you’re going.))

Akira was feeling extremely anxious and nervous. Like the time when he was on the list of kamikaze candidates, during his service in Japan. This was almost as worse. At least here he had a chance of surviving. What that chance was , he figured, beyond anything he could calculate. Getting in the mindset, Akira checked and loaded his rifle and slung his backpack on his shoulders. Then he carefully examined every inch of his precious katana, looking for any imperfections or scratches that might have occurred on the bumpy plane ride. Upon his examination, he noticed that it was not only perfect, but it was polished as well. Finishing the examination, he strapped the katana to his waist and practiced the quick-draw a few times. Satisfied, he reached into his backpack and pulled out the map, hoping to find some way to circumvent as much of the enemy forces as possible and to remain as covert as possible.

Sergio drew a few shaky breaths. He hadn't ridden in a plane before, and if they all ended like that, he wasn't sure he ever would again.
"Well," he said, finding his voice once more, "do you think we should head out? I'm sure one of us has a compass or something. If we head west quietly, we might be able to get to the rendezvous point in good time."
The satyr pulled out his map, hoping he could read it in the night. He looked up at the moon, wondering if it was full tonight, or, at least, full enough to be able to see by.

"God forbid somevun should be shot again," muttered Thorsten under his breath. Even with the staff of Moses, he had some doubts about his healing powers. He had only gotten lucky with Sergio. Other patients of his whom he had used his powers on had only seemed like they were healed at the outset, but had only gotten much worse as the days dragged on. He grabbed his pack and fitted the Luger and its holster around his waist before turning to talk to the rest of the squad.

Siegfried was pleased to discover that the StG46 he'd requested was inside the duffel bag. He pulled the modified M1911A1 out of the bag and put it into the holster he'd refastened around his waist, six StG46 mags went into the mag pouches on his belt, a seventh he set on his thigh while he pulled the StG46 out and leaned it against his leg.
Extra M1911A1 mags went into the pouches next to the holster for his pistol, Siegfried also attached the thick canvas sling that had been tucked into the bag to his assault rifle. He also ensured his gasmask tin was firmly attached at the back of his belt, as a second thought, Siegfried stuffed his leather jacket into the mostly empty duffel which only held a few more magazines, he rolled the bag up and put the strap over his neck and left shoulder, leaving the bag slanted across his back.

*

Siegfried sat in his seat as ridged as possible with the German flak fire buffeted the glider, his teeth clenched invisibly, he had been a Panzergrenadiere, not a damned Fallschirmjäger, he found the thought of falling to his death from an aircraft less than pleasant.

*
Thankfully, the landing had been 'safe' with no one being killed by flak fire or by the landing itself, Siegfried exited the glider in time to hear Rutherford's parting words. The big German slapped the magazine he'd put aside into his StG46 and racked the bolt, he paused to take a deep breath.
France.
It was good to be back on mainland Europe, and not in some godforsaken cell in England, the temptation to escape to fight the Nazis on his own terms and not as a 'slave' of the British was very high, but Siegfried didn't know if Rutherford had left any of his troops to follow him and the other operatives.

Siegfried turned to his fellows and leaned over someone's shoulder to get a look at the map they were holding, his was packed away in his duffel bag.
"The barn looks like it is two miles northwest, I can scout ahead and keep Wehrmacht patrols from finding us, ja?"

Jonathan smiled as he retrieved his trusty M1911 A1 from the bag, feeling whole again as he now had all his possessions in two places again. All vital things with him in the backpack and the rest safely stored at his New York workshop, protected by heavy, metal doors and window-shutters, as well as several protective systems which could most certainly be called 'booby-traps' by any other person.
He checked the gun thoroughly, and it appeared to be untouched, loaded and with the safety on, just as he had left it when boarding the train. He smiled once again before slipping the gun into his more or less concealed holster in the right side of his jacket. He then stuffed the tagged bag back under his seat.

-

After they head been decoupled from the bomber, Jon had already started preparing, he'd taken out three of the 10 magazines from his backpack and stuffed them in his right pant-pocket. He hadn't let go of his pack since then either, securing it, as to not lose anything as soon as they would touch down. Meanwhile he was really hoping not to get shredded by flak fire.

-

Arriving on the ground and managing to get out of the glider, Jon was happy to notice that he, nor any of the others had been shredded by the dreaded flak. Gliders have the advantage of not drawing so much attention, being dark and silent and all, of course, you can't exactly flee when things go south...

"The barn looks like it is two miles northwest, I can scout ahead and keep Wehrmacht patrols from finding us, ja?" The big German guy said after looking on someone else's map. "Ok, I got your back, four eyes see more than two." Jon replied after turning around from observing the nightly horizon while calmly pulling his pistol, his finger resting on the trigger-casing and the gun pointed toward the ground as he switched off the safety.

While letting his mind wander just a bit on the mission at hand, Jon realized that it was too bad that this wasn't Germany, if they were caught and outnumbered, he and the big German guy could just have posed as German campers who'd run across a downed Ally plane or something. No civilians in France though. So they'd have no excuse and not much use for their accent-less German.


((Lots of random thoughts and such, but I can't really focus right now, so it'll have to do.))

There seemed to be no objections to Siegfried acting as a scout, and so the German hefted his rifle and headed for the tree line. "An' 'ow d'you think you're gonna find the road, big guy?" a voice called out, the British soldier from the airfield stepping out into the open. A compass on a string dangled from one finger, and a smirk covered his face. "Bet you'd end up lost without one of these," he continued, striding over to the German. The soldier had Sten gun slung over one shoulder, and wore a 'tin-pot' helmet on a jaunty angle. He checked the compass casually and headed into the forest. "Call me Doug, by the way. You can tag along if you like. Don't bother me either way. Just don't shoot me, right?" Siegfried growled, and headed off after the soldier. Jonathan followed after the trio, pistol clutched in his hands.

It quickly became obvious that, of the trio, Jonathan was the least stealthy. Several times, he stepped on branches, the snaps echoing loudly in the night air. Compared to the stealthy movements of Siegfried and the British soldier, the American sounded like a bull in a china store. Continuing on with him following could have disastrous consequences…


Meanwhile, the group checked over their equipment, nervously awaiting the return of the three scouts. The clearing was dead silent, the dark outlines of the trees seeming to close in on the crashed glider and its passengers. The pilot of the glider had joined them, a service revolver clutched in his hand.

"So... you boys ain't regular infantry, right?" the pilot asked, eyeing Sergio oddly. Of the group, Sergio certainly stood out the most. As the group chatted, Akira became aware of a feeling of intense heat on his hip. Resting a hand on the hilt of the katana, he immediately felt a sense of great unease, and found himself readying his rifle. Thorsten, more attuned to his surroundings than the rest, heard a twig snap and likewise managed to draw his Luger - not a moment too soon. A flurry of bullets sent the team scrabbling for cover; Conrad cried out as a bullet tore through his side, sending him sprawling. Akira managed to squeeze off a shot, and another cry rang out as one of the attackers fell to the ground. Thorsten managed to fire off three shots, drawing another cry as a second enemy fell. Seven figures were barely visible in the darkness, and the rate of fire suggested they were armed with automatic weapons - these were no ordinary guards…


Doug, Siegfried and Jonathan paused as the echo of automatic arms fire cut through the night air. The British trooper cocked his head for a moment, then nodded. “Guess the glider got found. Shame. We’d better keep moving. Don‘t fancy a fight right now.” Unslinging his rifle, the soldier turned and started heading off, seemingly content to abandon his comrades…

((The way I’m gonna handle combat is you post what you intend to do and I’ll do my rolly-thing. Bear in mind you guys are under attack; finding cover should be your first priority (there’s a big glider still lying there, so that might help). Beyond that, post saying you shoot or whatever. Guys on the stealth patrol, you can either turn back or carry on. Also, Nird, you might want to head back - a character with a fairly low Agility score on a stealth patrol is probably a bad idea.))

Akira ran to the cover of the glider. As bullets flew above his head Akira reveled and felt disgusted about his first kill. He felt the thrill of the kill and yet felt disgusted that he had killed another human. Then he looked at Conrad and saw the pain his comrade was in. This overtook his feeling of regret and filled him with wartime anger. So enraged at those Nazi bastards he popped up from under his cover behind the glider and fired frantically into the woods towards the enemy. After emptying a clip, he ducked back down behind cover and reloaded his rifle. He thought he heard someone cry out in pain but he wasn't sure if he had hit someone or if it was Conrad. After reloading, Akira leveled his rifle above the glider and shot a couple of rounds off in the general direction of the enemy without exposing his head or upper torso. A little trick he learned in the Japanese military. As he finished firing, Akira waited a bit to see where his allies hid and hoping to come up with a makeshift plan. He also wondered what the scout group would do. No doubt they could hear the gunfire as they didn't leave too long ago.

Thorsten grabbed Conrad under the shoulders and began dragging him to cover. "Everyvun behind ze glider!" he barked. Thorsten followed Akira behind the wreckage with Conrad in tow and looked over his shoulder to see that the others followed. "Continue ze cover fire," Thorsten said as he glanced quickly at his Japanese comrade. He then laid Conrad down and, while grasping his staff, waved his hand over the wound. He prayed silently in his mind that it would heal.

Siegfried ground his teeth together and turned to Jonathan.
"You go back, und help others, you are loud like panzer column with engine trouble, I vill try to persuade this Scheiße gehirn to help. Go!" Siegfried said, aiding his last statement with a pointing finger toward the echoing gunfire, he turned away from the American and crept after the idiot Englishman.

When he caught up with Douglas, Siegfried placed himself in front of Douglas, blocking his way. "For a soldier who claims to hate Nazis, you have strange way of fighting them, by leaving allies to get killed" Siegfried snarled, his voice raised, but not loud enough to carry very far.

"You seem perfectly at ease letting your countrymen die, who are probably either dead already, or soon will be. Which means either you've fought enough not to care, or you really don't care if Hitler," Siegfried paused to spit to one side in distaste, "and his 'master race', win this war."

"You go back, und help others, you are loud like panzer column with engine trouble, I vill try to persuade this Scheiße gehirn to help. Go!"

Jonathan nodded in agreement. He himself had even be surprised by the unsilence his footsteps had produced. Fucking branches. As he saw the large German, whom he was almost certain was called Siegfried disappear into the bushes, he looked back at the 'crash-site' of the glider and toward where he heard the automatic gunfire, he then looked at his pistol and back at the glider. He uttered only a single word once he slowly started to make his way back, right after letting out a big sigh. "Shit."

As he came closer, he moved himself lower to the ground with every step he took, tall grass wasn't that good a cover, but the attackers would at least not see him that easily and gunshots are very loud, so at least they wouldn't hear him here...

((Just a note, Cuidado - most of Japan's rifles were bolt-action, with five or ten round magazines, so just remember you won't be pumping out crazy amounts of lead. . Wilbur, I'm trying to limit the amount of healing the good doctor can do with his abilities by adding negative modifiers when I roll to see if it works, just to add a bit of risk. Bear in mind that by healing lots of small wounds, you may wear him out for when you need to treat a serious wound.))

Akira's firing, while inaccurate, did have the effect of keeping the enemy's heads down. The automatic gunfire died down for a moment while the Japanese scientist fired blindly into the woods, but soon started again. Akira's distraction did buy time for Thorsten to drag Conrad into the meager cover provided by the glider, however, as well as providing cover for the rest of the retreating party. As the operatives clutched their weapons, shouting from the woods indicated the enemy were advancing...

Thorsten cursed as he tried to focus his thoughts. Battles had a habit of proving distracting, and this one was no exception. With great concentration, the doctor smiled as a light glow emanated from his hand, the wound quickly healing over. This time, however, the wound wasn't completely erased - a nasty bruise quickly formed on Conrad's side. Though little more than an inconvenience, the bruising indicated Thorsten's powers were perhaps growing weaker from constant use...


Douglas eyed Siegfried for a moment, his face unreadable. For a moment, he looked almost sad, before his expression hardened. "Look, you Jerry bastard, you don't know arse about me!" he said, trying to push past. The action was futile, given Siegfried's size, and Douglas was forced to back off in the face of the huge German. The British man balled his fists, raising his voice in anger. "You weren't at the Somme. You weren't there when we rushed past the Albert-Bapaume road. You weren't there when Kaiser and his merry lads tried to shell us to hell! You weren't there at Dunkirk! You're a stinkin' Kraut who's got no bloody ri-"

The man's outbusrt was quickly cut off by a hand, clamped around his mouth. Never Misses, Springfield slung over his back, raised a finger to his lips and signalled to the left. Douglas made to break free, but paused; the sound of barking dogs carried through the trees. Never Misses released the man and nodded to Siegfried, then gestured at a tree. Unslinging the rifle, the Lakota Indian quickly scaled the tall tree, perching on an overlooking branch. Siegfried barely had time to bring up his rifle before a flashlight beam cut through the trees. A Wehrmacht soldier burst from the trees, two Dobermans tearing at the leashes clasped tightly in his right hand. The dogs seemed almost to cower, however, when they caught sight of Siegfried. Douglas blinked rapidly as the flashlight came to rest on his face. The handler fumbled for his Luger, yelling out in German: "Halt! Identifiziert euch oder ich schieße!" As the handler crept forward, his face came into view - he seemed fairly young, probably in his early twenties, and his hands were shaking as he levelled the pistol at Siegfried's chest. "Identifiziert euch oder ich schieße!"


Jonathan crept through the forest, moving from tree to tree. The automatic gunfire was drawing closer, but it was coming from his right - he seemed to be moving around the clearing. Gripping the pistol tightly, he almost didn't notice the crouching figure moving towards him. As he brought up his pistol, the figure turned and caught sight of him - the man quickly reached for his sidearm as Jonathan raised his. The man hurled himself forward, colliding with Jonathan's waist as he squeezed the trigger, and the two men fell to the ground, the pistol falling from Jonathan's fingers. Pulling a knife from his belt, the man angled a quick slash at Jonathan's chest, which he barely avoided. The man rolled aside as the American threw a punch, and Jonathan quickly scrabbled to his feet, clutching at a heavy branch. The sniper shrugged off his rifle and raised the knife, grinning, circling Jonathan like a hunter stalking his prey...


((Did I mention I love Anderpeich's art? ))

Siegfried turned to look at Douglas so the Wehrmacht soldier couldn't see his face very well.
"Play along, I don't want to shoot him or you, drop your gun." He whispered under his breath, just loud enough for Douglas to hear.
Siegfried prodded Douglas in the stomach maybe a little harder than was necessary with the barrel with his StG46, just as the Englishman dropped his Sten gun and put his hands up.

"Ich bin Unterfeldwebel Rosenberg. Dieser Englischer Idiot probierte unsere Truppen bei dem Gleiter zu entkommen. Ich denke das es Vorteilhaft für unsere Jagd auf seine Komplizen wär wenn wir diesen Mann erstmal gefangennehmen." Siegfried responded, trying to keep his unshaven face turned toward Douglas, like he was focusing on watching the 'prisoner'.

"Hast du ein Seil um dieses stück Dreck festzubinden?" Siegfried asked, still not looking at the Wehrmacht soldier.