The scream of the banshee is terrible even through the barrier, piercing through your ears, wracking your skull with terrible pain. The windshield explodes in splinters, showering the seats in sharp glass, as cracks appear over the bridge. Tomasz' barrier shatters under the onslaught, and as Sam, Pierce and James fire upon it, the carriage resumes its crazy ride, passing straight through your truck like an icy gale. A spectral hand grasps at James, threatening to wrestle his soul from his body, but the man's willpower is not so easily overcome, and with a gasp he frees himself from the eerie grab.
Light Blades: 6/6
One Handed: 3/6
Two-Handed: 5/6
Shrike is shaken enough to actually throw a hand out with his next attack and sending a trio of arming swords after the carriage. He could not help but imagine that they were rather like dogs chasing after a car, they would have no idea what to do if they actually caught the thing, much less what would happen if it turned around and decided to deal with them. He had to take consolation in the thought that if it was running from them it thought they were a threat on some level.
L falls unconscious.
Swearing in Polish under his breath, Tomasz slams the pedal down and very nearly spins out as he takes off after the coach.
Sam feels a psychic tug, and snaps her fingers to activate the post-hypnotic suggestion she placed on L.
She shudders under the onslaught, but it isn’t enough to keep her from catching Pierce’s shoulder and placing a trick on him, Gift of Will.
Pierce would have reached forward to heal L but with the surge of psychic energy he gets better for now and he decides to focus more on ending the threat of the banshee, firing his gun as best he can at her.
Sam's suggestion kickstarts L's brain back into action to bypass the damaged convolutions, and the agent opens his eyes, regaining focus.
As the chase continues, bullets and spectral blades flying against the spectral carriage, you can notice extensive damage appearing on your foes. They don't match your attacks, appearing as rips and tears in stretched fabric, wispy threads of ectoplasm coming apart at the edges of the coach.
Once again, the voice of the monster rings through your mind, although more rough and coarse than the first time.
As unsettling as the voice is, it's not the most unpleasant thing to happen, as James discovers when the cold hand of a dead beggar reaches from his coat, the unliving bodies in the truck writhing like worms.
Light Blades: 6/6
One Handed: 1/6
Two-Handed: 4/6
"You are growing tiresome, my dear, perhaps you should stop skimming the surface," Shrike said cooly, his words coming out in more puffs of grey fog that twisted around his face despite the ferocious winds whipping the air around him. Casually he flicked fingers at the carriage and sent a pair of blades hurtling towards it again before directing an ill-used looking axe down at the grasping dead.
He turned his mind toward the part of himself that was not, strictly speaking, human anymore. Let her chew upon centuries of bloodshed remembered through an inhuman perspective and burned into his mind when he became what he was now. He was half curious to see how the poor creature would take it.
Pierce sees the wriggling of the corpses in the back and quickly throws a grenade
"nah, it gives me pleanty of knowledge that I can use for my own skills, for example, I can tell you to f~$% off in whatever language I want, for example Verpiss dich! Mögest Du ewig in der Hölle schmoren!"
L opens his eyes, This is abnormal stamina I have gained...from...Agent Korematsu, yes, only for his thoughts to be interrupted.
*********
I do not know who my mother.., L begins thinking as flashbacks begin flooding his mind. Images of a beautiful blonde woman as seen from a low direction flash through his mind. These flashes change slowly as the woman slowly ages and the viewed direction elevates. Agent L grabs his head and begins shaking it slowly as he quietly mumbles, "....I am a pawn on a chess board and the Black Chamber plays my side.....I am a scalpel, a precision tool that cuts. Held by Black Chamber, I remove the evil that would threaten the world..."
The pedal hits the floor with an audible 'crunch', as Tomasz's foot spasmed with rage. You are their tool, and you will die, and then I will say a prayer for them.
Wheels spinning on the ice, he tries to bring them level with the coach again.
James' weapon easily severs the hand that's grasping at him, but more and more come from the swarm of undead bodies, grasping and clawing. Their hands are feeble, but numbers are on their side, lucky blows landing on him .
The attacks on your main target, however, have a visible effect. The tears on the coach expand, ripping at the seams and evaporating into spectral, dark mist as the forces that called it to this plane weaken more and more. The unholy passenger gathers power once again for her devastating scream, dark red velvet swirling like a bloody fog around her ethereal, thin body.
L raises his head steadily a looks to the coach. "Brake," he says with a level volume and tone. He then readies his sniper rifle for a shot.
Light Blades: 5/6
One Handed: 0/6
Two-Handed: 3/6
Falling to a knee under persistent grabbing hands, Shrike mutters something ungentlemanly under his breath and turns his attentions to the blindly grasping hands and gnashing mouths of what had previously been the homeless population of Belfast. His blades make a short, bloody work of rendering the bodies immediately around him unusable to whatever fell influence animates them. No doubt this would ruin yet another of his suits.
Sam is shaken and distracted by the banshee's words, completely unable to get a good round of shots off.
Rather than jolt them all and throw off their shots, Tomasz pulls level with the coach and matches its speed. "It's going to scream again!"
Seeing the zombies more or less taken care of, Pierce aims for the the monster's throat, hoping to cut off her scream
The deafening screech of the banshee cuts through your ears and resonates in your bones, deadly vibrations shaking your internal organs, but the energy tethering the banshee to the Prime Material is disrupted. With a last yell, the carriage and its passenger evaporate in wispy, acrid smoke, leaving nary a trace of their passage, save for the corpses.
The ice bridge cracks and splinters under the screech, but Tomasz keeps control of the truck while Pierce and Sam hold on for dear life. James' onslaught repels the zombie horde, and the corpses fall like puppets with cut strings, and finally all is quiet around you.
As the banshee shrieks her last, Shrike stumbles in the back and falls heavily to a knee. His arsenal of spectral weapons ripple away into whatever fold of reality they take shelter in. The only thing keeping him upright at the moment was likely his cane. With a grunt of effort he hauls himself to the back of the cab and thumps twice on it.
"To solid ground, Mr. Szymanski?" the worn welshman calls out in a slightly raspy voice.
Agent L is unconscious again.
Pierce joins him in being unconscious… We got a medic?
Sam staggers, though she remains standing. "Good g%# d@#n riddance."
She pulls a potion out of her satchel, shakes it up, and pours it into Pierce's mouth.
Pierce is indeed stable! Yaaaay
The scream sends Tomasz down deep into the blackness, falling flat on the wheel as the trucks momentum carries it skittering and swerving onto solid ground before coming to a juddering halt.
Clambering out of the back of the truck as it jolts to a halt, Shrike stumbles up to the cab and throws the door open. The fight against the bean sidhe was over but she had left them in a bad state. The cold and their wounds might finish what the creature had started.
He was a killer and these men needed a healer, that much was obvious. There was not much he could do for the sort of wounds left in the wake of such an assault but what he could do, he would.
"Ms. Korematsu! Are you conscious? Do you have Mr. Brosnan?" Shrike called over the cold wind as he hauled Tomasz and L out of the cab of the truck to look them over. Content they would not die in the immediate future, he moved to clear the corpses out of the bed of the truck and haul the injured into it. The entire time, he bit back expletives as his bad leg screeched at him for the cold, the strain, and the abuse he was steeped in.
"I got him!" Sam calls back. She starts getting him off of the truck. "I've got one more healing potion on me, but we're going to need a doctor here."
With a few minutes' work, the unconscious members are stabilized and laid in the back. As dawn approaches and the ice begins to crack, you start up the engine, heading back to Belfast.
Cavendish is already awake as you arrive to the barracks in a half-wrecked truck, carrying three unconscious bodies, and hurries to send Tomasz, L and Pierce to the infirmary. "Those guys came just a little while ago" he says, pointing to a small, battered group of soldiers in fatigues who are smoking in a corner. "they're here for you- and for me. Apparently I'm being assigned to your agency soon, though they won't tell me much. Secret service, I'd think? Ah, not like you could tell me. But thank you for your service nonetheless."
Among the soldiers you spot Robert Barnes, a middle-aged, friendly man who's in charge of weapon training for field Laundry agents. He looks weary.
Shrike straightens in the presence of Cavendish and the others. He limps up to the soldier and extends a hand. "For what it's worth Lieutenant, I tried to keep as much distance as I could."
Being awake for almost twenty-four hours is doing Sam very few favors, and yet she still keeps herself moving with sheer force of will. "See ya around, Lieutenant," she says, pronouncing it the American way.
She approaches Barnes and says, quietly, "Good news regarding the castle, I hope?"
Pierce stretches, looking rather worn out "that ritual was messed up...."
May 6th 1942, 11:00, London.
Angleton's bald head shines in the cold, electric lights of the Laundry office. General Fredericksen is absent, in his place a silent, dour middle-aged woman with steel-gray hair.
"Welcome, RUTHLESS WIDOW." the Detached Special Secretary says with his raspy voice, storing back the geometric drawing that he just used to clear you for ANTHROPOID AFFILIATE. His tone is that of an English professor who is about to explain the finest aspect of a Shakespearean sonnet. "This mission will be quite different from the others. Not only is it an assassination, but you will work in Prague together with local personnel, trained by Special Operations Executive for this operation."
The man passes you two photos of young men in military uniforms.
"These are Jozef Gabčík and Jan Kubiš. They are cleared ANTHROPOID, but not AFFILIATE, and definitely not UNDERGROUND STUDENT. In short, they are mundanes. However, you have special dispensation." Angleton hands each one of you a cardboard square with a ward printed on it. "Should you think it appropriate, these wards will allow you to conscript them into Laundry service. They come with a caveat, however: once conscripted, they must either return here or die. We can't allow them to go rogue or to fall into enemy hands. With them is one of our operatives, Leo Étranger. Giving you a picture would be futile, he is excellent at disguising himself."
One more photo is passed to you, depicting a cold-eyed man wearing the uniform of a SS Obergruppenführer.
"This is your target. Reinhard Heydrich. Known as the Hangman, the Butcher of Prague, the Man with the Iron Heart and several more nicknames, he is one of Himmler's top men, if not his right arm. He is the head of the Reich Main Security Office, which is officially a bureaucratic organization handling operations from policing to intelligence, including propaganda and purges of dissidents. We are, however, fairly certain that they work to further the goals of Ahnenerbe, as a public front. Especially since Heydrich is an exceptionally skilled necromancer in his own regard."
"Do not underestimate him. Even without factoring his skills in the occult arts, he is shrewd, cunning and utterly merciless. He earned those nicknames."
Angleton sits back in the chair as the woman rises. Her voice is remarkably clear for her apparent age, and her Southern American accent suggests an affiliation with the Black Chamber. "You may call me Margaret, you aren't cleared for my name. As you may know, Czechoslovakia has been occupied by the Nazis in 1939, then split into three parts. Heydrich is in Prague, as the de facto dictator of the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, intent on "Germanizing" the Czech population via terror, arrests and mass executions."
Her voice is emotionless as she speaks briefly about the thousands of people who disappeared from the capital. "Tomorrow you will parachute in Plzeň, ninety kilometers from Prague, from there you will be on your own. Étranger, Gabčík and Kubiš are in the capital, you will rendez-vous with them on May the 9th, or failing that on the 13th, behind the Church of Saint Mary of the Angels. Your sign will be "Did your children like the gifts?". If they answer as if the gift were toys, you are green to go. If they mention dressed, they are compromised. If so, you will be on your own."
"For those of you who don't speak Czech, we can grant you a rudimentary knowledge of the language. You will understand most of what is being said, but it would flag you as a stranger. You may be better off speaking German, if you know it well enough. Finally, for returning, you have two choices. You can head north of Prague, to Mělník, where we have hidden a small airplane that can carry you to Sweden; we have an agent in Malmö that will help you return. I read on your file that one of you is a trained pilot. If you can't fly it, your best hope will be to reach Switzerland by road or train, but you'll have to cross Germany or Austria to do so."
"Do you have any questions?"
Agent L stands silently at attention with the usual emotionless expression.
"Well, this is it for now. I'd say it's been a pleasure but we all know I'd be lying. Ms. Korematsu, I feel I should apologize for my earlier suspicions. The paranoia this job encourages is no excuse for such behavior." The stiff man was clearly trying to at least act more human.
"My dear Sam,
Thank you for your letter! We are so glad that you are safe, and can't wait to see you again.
Here the situation is tense. Since the attack, people have started avoiding everyone who looks Japanese, even Nisei citizens. Fred is already talking about going underground, but I am confident in the passing of the storm."
The rest of the letter is information about the family. Nothing about heart disease.
The sky is overcast and the wind smells like coal smoke as you walk the streets of Prague. Leo's route takes him near the gallows, where three corpses are currently hanging, a grim reminder of what happens to those who plot against the Protectorate. Or steal food, as they did.
Leo takes a narrow, cobblestone-paved street, turn into an old, dark alley where some beggars hope to find refuge from the purge. For the Germans, they are undesirables, pockmarks on their perfect society. But as much as Nazis might worship modernity, ruthless progress and efficiency, Prague is an old city with old problems and, luckily, old tricks.
The passage to Jozef and Jan's hideout lies in a secluded court, through what looks like an ancient sewer gate, leading to the forgotten, walled basement of an abandoned shop. Dusty barrels have been replaced by makeshift beds for the dozen people who found refuge here: Veronika and Samuel Steinberg, doubly persecuted as Jews and Communists, Pavel, who never told why the Nazis hate him, the Novotny family, who hid to protect their mentally-impaired, youngest child, and Vladimir, a Rom who was unlucky enough to be alone in the city.
And in a corner, there are Jan and Jozef, young, healthy and ready to die for their country. They wave at Leo as he enters, placing on a rickety table the guns they had readied and grabbing a bottle of wine.
"Well met, bratr. Have a drink with us, then we can discuss what needs to be done. I trust the day comes nearer."
"Ah, bonsoir mes amis," Leo replied at the greeting, his horrible face cracking into an actual smile. He might be a monster but he was finding the camaraderie of this little cell of assassins and refugees quite pleasant. "I have spoken to my friends who have spoken to their friends, and so on. I am assured that the rosbif are sending a team over to assist in countering the oddness I warned you about."
That had been the tricky bit, Nazis used the occult like a hammer held behind the back. There was a pretense of secrecy about it but the moment you dug a little too deep you ran hard up against it. As much as he liked and trusted these people, Leo did not want them pulled into the mess that was the occult world. He was fine there, he belonged there, the Steinbergs, the Novotnys, Vlad, and Pavel did not. Fortunately, there were plenty of rumors about the Nazis and all it took was a small suggestion and they would fill in the blanks well enough on their own.
"I have heard of this man. He is a monster, he defiles even those given good Catholic burials. Questions? One - who is our pilot for the initial journey. I should like to wish him good luck."
"I'm a a sniper, not a pilot. I'm not half bad driving a car but I wouldn't know what todo with all the buttons and knobs of a plane. I take it that the man on the ground will have a greater understanding of the situation?"
"Agent L is the licensed pilot for your extraction. For insertion, your pilot will be Flight Lieutenant Edward Baker, RAF, your plane a Handley Page Halifax. You'll fly high to avoid detection. As for return, you'll fly a captured Junkers G 24. Avoid populated areas and hopefully you won't be spotted."
Jozef pushes a mug of wine towards you, before speaking softly.. It's aged poorly, but pretty good for the times. "Splendid. The Butcher will pay for the gallows in his own blood. And we have some news as well. Opálka met with Bishop Gorazd, he's agreed to let us stay in the crypt of the Cathedral of Cyril and Methodius. A more practical hideout than this one. Then, we scouted the road leading to the Hangman's house: if we can stop the car there, it's a good spot. And finally, there are rumors in the underground Jewish community. We couldn't dig deeper, but according to Veronika, someone's talking about the old Golem legend. A codename for some resistance movement, perhaps, they could be allies."
The Golem of Prague is a famous Jewish legend, according to which Rabbi Judah Loew the Maharal had crafted a creature from clay to protect the Jewish community. there are several different versions,where the creature was animated by either a scrap of parchment in its mouth or by the word emet (Jewish for "truth") written on its forehead. How the story unfolds also varies dramatically, but most tales involve the Golem becoming too powerful or violent and being deactivated.
Theoretically, it would be possible to create a clay golem. One would need a clay-based homunculus, kneaded with blood from its creator, and some conjuration ritual to bind Feeders in the Night or another possessing entity to it. Without a precise control system, it would be nightmarily dangerous.
"Understood. No further questions."
"a golem.... pretty famous legend, understandable that people would talk about it, it would be something that would give people hope to think about.... but to actually preform, an amateur craftsman or spell caster could create a monster"
"Looking like a stranger in a strange land is nothing new," Sam says. "Besides Heydrich, are there any other known occultists in Prague?"
"Not that we know of. The Czechoslovak occult agency was rapidly destroyed by the Ahnenerbe, there were no known survivors to conscript for GREEN BRIDGE. And of course it's possible that some of Heydrich's soldiers are necromancers or summoners themselves. So, if you are ready, pass by Requisitions and then off you go."
"An old story, dating back to the fourteenth century. Or the sixteenth maybe? Can't remember. There was a rabbi here in Prague who made a man made of clay, tasked it with protecting the jews in the city. During the Sabbath, he would put the golem to sleep, so that he wouldn't violate the sacred day of rest, but one time he forgot to. And for this sacrilege the golem crumbled into dust. Or something like that."
Jozef sips some wine before continuing. "Veronika doesn't know much, but I think some underground Jewish movement took the name of the legend. You know, protecting the city's Jews and all."