Mina quickly approaches the door with James, drawing both her guns and standing ready for him to kick the door in.
Sam tries to identify the spell the woman used, and with her own spell resisted, she goes for her next idea, which is to try and grab the woman by the ankles and pull.
Struggling against L's tackle, the woman reaches to magic again. Here eyes flare with an unnatural greenish light as she opens a conduit through herself, and a trickle of blood flows from her ears. "Get those filthy hands off me! Fǫr ùtan fara!"
As soon as the spell is completed, she vanishes, leaving L hugging the air. Someone screams from deeper into the warehouse, the dark area behind the crates wall.
Pierce turns on the radio and tries to signal home base "Big Ben to Cavendish, come in Cavendish"
Resisting the magic, his head snaps in the direction of the scream. He quickly pulls out a vial and drinks it.
He pulls out his night vision device and proceeds toward the scream, utilizing cover to keep hidden.
Shrike does not kick in the door, instead he holsters his gun after checking to make sure it was in good order and simply opens the door, walking in with the quiet assurance of a man who was exactly where he was supposed to be. Trusting Mina to provide the familiar menace of firearms, he decides to stick with what he knows. The limping man does not bother announcing himself or hiding as he enters. His job is to provide cover and distract hostiles.
"Shots fired inside, whisky has left the vehicle and entered. I believe our cover is blown"[/b]
"Hostile presence? Do you need backup? Over."
"unclear at this time. If anyone is free in the area it might be a good idea to have them be on standby"
"Gggh! Damn blonde b~#!#!" Sam curses. "One of them had a glamor on and attacked, tried to grab her but she disappeared."
She goes to check if the IRA leader is still alive.
Mina follows behind James, surprised but not unpleasantly with his calm entrance. Finding her own adrenaline somewhat soothed, she walks slowly, her guns drawn and leading around corners.
Again leaving the car running, Tomasz also steps up to the door but pauses before going in. Instead of joining the others, he takes out another of his little devices and winds it several times before putting it back in his jacket. To any looking, his form blurs and twists until he's wearing the red-haired and barely bearded form of Private Doherty.
You also see Shrike and Mina enter, while Tomasz stands at the door and changes his appearance into Doherty.
As Mina and James enter, they find signs of a struggle, and Sam/Doherty kneeling over a bleeding man. As they are taking in the scene, everyone feels the fundamental, unnatural wrongness that marks magic being cast, as noxious fumes appear from apparently nowhere.
"Head after her and see if you can keep her locked down. I'll see about our Republican friend here and catch up," Shrike said coolly, kneeling beside the wounded man. An enemy spy would be less interested in assisting with their inquiries than the man she just shot.
L pauses momentarily as the pain wracks his body and he is unable to resist. Motivated by his training, he continues on sneaking up behind the enchantress.
When he has an opportunity he will again wrap his arms around her to restrain. But this time, because he has an advantage he is able to go for a pin.
Sam nods and leaves the IRA leader with Shrike as she goes to help hunt down the woman.
Blinking at the cloud, Tomasz takes two quick steps backwards.Either someone's trying to block the exit - or someone's trying to drive people away from it, and will be exiting shortly. So thinking, he readies his pistol.
As Sam stumbles out of the noxious fumes, Mina and L skulk in the shadows and James patches the wound, doing an admirable job considering the makeshift materials at his disposal.
The enemy agent, either unaware or uncaring of the REVERSE CHARLEMAGNE agents in the shadows, steps forward, her hand bleeding copiously. With a flick of the wrist, she sprays blood at the two visible agents, and the droplets swell into an apocalyptic red flood, rushing at them with the roar of a storm.
Looking down at the dying man and clearly not impressed with him, Shrike stands and has time to coldly say, "There is an adage about foxes and henhouses," before the wave of blood sweeps him back into the magic fouled air. His cane goes spinning from his hands to clatter in some out of the way corner of the room but he manages to remain standing as the foulness assaults his senses with a completeness that was an affront to anything approaching decency.
"Shall I send Göring the bill for all of the suits of mine his bumbling agents have ruined? We're up to three now," he called out to the Nazi agent. If he had tried for bravado it would have fallen flat, but now he was tapping into the quiet and decorously restrained rage chilling his heart to keep himself on his feet rather than vomiting on the floor. He was coated in blood, utterly soaking his clothes and making his skin crawl in a vain attempt to escape the sensation. He limped from the foul-smelling cloud again and fumbled at shrugging off the now ruined coat, letting it fall messily to the floor.
Sam is pushed back by the wave and is hit again by the noxious fumes. She comes stumbling back out, coughing and pushing her hair out of her face. "Such a charmer, cailín."
She sets her hypnotic stare on the woman.
Tomasz raises his pistol, and it barks once.
Pierce curses as he sees the sees the smoke slowly coming out the door. After weighing his options he decides to try to blow the door off it's hinges with an explosive shot to bring some ventilation to the building and giving him a better look at what's going on
"Rather than a bill, I'll gift the Reichmarshall your head!" taunts the Ahnenerbe-SS agent, raising her hands into the gesture for another spell, blood dripping over her arms and neck into an equally bloody floor. Then Pierce's shot rips the door from its hinges, throwing off her concentration, and Tomasz's hits her square in the shoulder. The momentary distraction is enough for Mina and L to pounce on her, despite the excruciating, unnatural pain the latter is suffering. The woman is brought to the floor and violently thumps her head on the concrete, knocking her unconscious.
"Well done," Shrike notes with a touch of pride in his comrades. Absently, he retrieves a handkerchief from a pocket to wipe his face with, realizes that it too is soaked and summarily discards it with a disgusted sound. "What a remarkably unpleasant woman, even for a nazi. Someone tie her up, we need to have a chat with her. Two pairs of eyes on her at all times."
Remembering the IRA leader, Shrike limps back over to the man and checks on him.
The IRA leader is unconscious, his breathing irregular and weak as blood slowly leaks inside his lungs. Perhaps he may be saved, but without medical or magical intervention, he'll never wake up.
"Big Ben, the building is secure, we've got one Republican here who needs medical attention before we move him and one prisoner who is blessedly unconscious," Shrike radioed to their erstwhile sniper. The man was good with bodies and Shrike wanted the nearly dead man stable before they tried to move him.
Pierce uses the magic item given to him to jump off and run to the group
Agent L quietly limps off into the darkness, finding a small corner to curl up in.
"The Nazi, she will also be needing some medical attention." Tomasz says, as he steps fully into the room. He keeps his pistol drawn. "For a bullet wound and, perhaps, for cut hamstrings. Footraces are a younger man's game. We will also need to check her for mundane suicide devices."
"I have doubts that she will spill all of the beans; she is most certainly under Geasa much like ourselves. Still, there are questions we may ask."
He binds and blindfolds her before searching her pockets throughly, coming upon the silvery vial. "Now what might you be?"
James does his best to stabilize the wounded man, but he doesn't manage to improve on his earlier efforts.
After a couple minutes go by L hobbles out of the darkness very slowly, making his way to the vehicle.
Pierce manifests body adjustment on the IRA leader, curing hp
After L makes it to the vehicle, he will roll into the back and then hold himself upright with all of his might. With his body in a mixture of on fire and aching terribly, beads of sweat pour down his face as he tries to maintain his composure.
Not again....not again...not again... repeats almost as a mantra in his head.
Time loses itself as he awaits his team.
"That will have to do for now, let's load these two into the car and get back to the base," Shrike said, casting around for his cane before finding it in a congealing puddle of blood. With an uncomfortable grunt, he stooped to collect it from the now tacky substance.
Midnight strikes as the snowstorm shows no sign of stopping. Under the dark clouds, at the light of the car's headlights, the whole HIDDEN HARPIST team exits the warehouse, some bruised, some battered, some dripping with blood, but all alive and carrying two precious, unconscious prizes. The IRA cell leader is breathing steadily now that Pierce's magic has knit the wound back into shape, and the Ahnenerbe-SS agent, bound, gagged, blindfolded and watched over, lies limply on the floor.
Sam casts Prestidigitation several times to remove the blood from everyone. After her hands are clean she gets into the back of the vehicle and pulls out a scroll. "Don't need you keeling over just yet, this should do at least some for the recovery time," she says to L. She casts Lesser Restoration from the scroll.
Only then does she take a look at the silver tube found on the woman.
"What a s&+~show. IRA is going to lay low for a while if they know what's good for them. Blondie's gonna be a tough nut to crack. Kaasan, tousan, you wouldn't believe the things I've seen."
"Is anyone injured? I still got some juice left to heal people who need it"
As you imagined, it's a School of Eyes.
"Should we take them to Doyle? We need somewhere to hold them for now until proper countermeasures can be enacted," Shrike said from where he sat in the back with the two unconscious prisoners. He had kept a single sword hovering above the throat of the spy, ready to return her to unconsciousness should she waken.
Due to the snowstorm and the late hour, nobody is around, which works well for you as you have to move two unconscious, bloodied bodies. You radio forward to Cavendish, so there aren't indiscrete eyes prying, but judging from how he looks at your blood-soaked clothes and the prisoners, he may require either memory alteration or basic Laundry clearance soon. Luckily, this decision is not on your shoulders.
As you separate the agents, he recognizes the IRA cell leader. "That's Samuel Connor, he was supposed to be assisting his sickly mother. He wasn't, was he? And I guess that I don't want to know who the woman is either. I'll... I'll be outside, so that nobody will enter. Take the keys."
He tosses you a small ring. half a dozen keys open the cells, now all empty save for those holding Connor and the SS agent, and another is for the steel door on the outside.
The woman opens her eyes and takes in her surroundings, weakly testing the restraints. "More of you than I zhought, I see. Gut gemacht. I got overconfident. Vell then, you can call me Hilde. I believe zhat you kept me alive because you vant something from me, ja?"
Together with her appearance, her speech changed too after the glamour fell. Her diction is crisp, hard and carries a German accent lighter than Mina's, but definitely recognizable.
Pierce begins to speak English with an affected but entirely believable Berlin accent "we mostly want information darling, troop positions, operational strategy and the like. Anything you may have"
The woman smiles amiably before sweetly inviting Pierce to perform an anatomically implausible autoerotic practice.
The sniper smiles back quite pleased looking "part of me was hoping you'd say something along those lines. See, in our unit I'm the one of use who has the most expirence with the human body, I know how it ticks, I how to kill someone quickly and painlessly..... or keep them alive long after they've begged for death. It's often astonishing how far you can go if you know what you're doing, especially if you have someone with magical healing. Why if you cheat and use magic you might not even have a scar. But then, my magic has a limited supply. Once that runs out.... I might have to get.... creative.... of course, you could speak now and spare yourself the trouble, or I can bring out some toys"
Shrike put a hand on Pierce's shoulder, half restraining and half companionable. "Now, now, there is little need for that. You two are professionals after all. Those chaps in Berlin would not dispatch an agent who could not take a bit of punishment."
Shrike pulled a chair over in front of the spy a bit stiffly and sat, massaging the spot on his leg where one would assume the source of his limp was concealed behind the cloth of his pants. "Your pet knew my name, Frau Hilde. Do you know what I am?"
It was worth noting that despite Sam's best efforts, Shrike was still looking less than at his best and the smell of blood still followed him in light traces through the air, the merest suggestion of that iron tang. It seemed rather worryingly fitting for his person. He did not threaten or promise violence should she not cooperate, that was neither Shrike's style nor necessary. After all, as he adjusted his cuffs and rested both hands on the silver head of his cane, a spectral executioner's sword that was just short of three feet long from rounded tip to pommel moved to hover just behind his right shoulder. The pommel pointed straight up toward the ceiling as malignant energies twisted out from the blade like jagged snakes searching for vulnerable flesh.
Agent L stands at the door of the room with his body stiff and expressionless face.
"Ach, and here I vas looking forvard to some torture. Like you could do vorse than vhat I passed already. Come on, boy, do your vorst."
Her eyes move to James, studying him for a few seconds. "I assume you're Laundry, you're posh and you're either psyche-bound to the Gate of Legends or have terrible taste in weaponry. Eizher vay, a riddle for you all: vhy vould an enemy agent such as myself engage in zhis pleasant conversation vhen I have no vay of escaping?"
Her smile reminds you of wolves.