Kris fires his shotgun at the Kraut!
Total=14
and then Kris hauls for cover!
Aaron fires another shot at the flame trooper, but it only clips his coat. Kris, however, levels his shotgun at the man's chest and pulls the trigger. The blast catches the German directly in the chest, and he staggers backward several steps before falling, rolling onto his side as the gas canister hits the ground. The German soldiers who were rallying and cheering a moment ago now let loose a torrent of curses and surprised shouts--once again taught to fear the American trench guns.
INITIATIVE
Aaron: 7 Diamonds
Alexander: Jack Clubs
Dances: King Spades
Desmond: 4 Hearts
Kristophe: 6 Spades
Sean: 8 Spades
Germans: King Diamonds
Dances ducks low and braces his rifle over another chunk of rubble to get a good look at the surroundings. He cocks the gun and fires down at the approaching Jerries, trying to at least thin the ranks a little bit.
"He's down! Thin out their lines, hold them back!" Aaron keeps his weapon at the ready and stays hunkered down behind cover. "Hold them here and we hold the church!"
Up in the tower, Dances in Smoke focuses his eyes and sweeps over the surrounding area again. He can make out more details now: on the German side, the important note is that it doesn't look like any more are coming. As he turns around, though, he sees a scattered group of men coming from behind the church, on the Allies' side and the city--a few dozen by the look of things. He can't make out their uniforms, but it doesn't seem that any of them are firing.
Dances turns back to the soldiers he's sure are the enemy, and puts a round through a rifleman, dropping the German to the ground. The shot draws the attention of a nearby soldier, who fires back at the sniper's post, but it whizzes past.
In the cellar, however, the tide turns against the Triple U. The Germans were given pause after their flame trooper fell, and they don't press forward, but they unleash a hail of bullets from their submachine guns, absolutely filling the dim, smoky corridors. Alexander remains pinned down behind his pillar of cover, flinching as the stone chips around him, but others are less lucky. As Kristophe peeks out to begin lining up his shot, a round blows through the meat of his upper arm near the shoulder, sending a spray of blood out, and he suddenly has to fight against the pain, feeling himself growing faint and about to fall. Sean takes a pair of rounds to the abdomen, one scraping along his side and the other lodging under his ribs. Aaron feels a spark of pain as a round strikes his thigh, a searing spike above his knee. Another man of the unit falls as well, a burst catching him full in the chest, and two others grab him and haul him back around the corner.
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"Blyat! Hahahaha!" exclaims the russian as the bullets chew through his improvised cover "The frankfurts like playing hard!"
The russian quickly looks around for his next piece of cover before dashing towards it, shotgun ready, and unloading deadly scatterfire before he hits the ground.
"Come on, commrades, cowering won't kill the basterds! Shooting will!"
Desmond finally quiet his muttering and takes a deep, steadying breath. Gripping his locket he glances down onto the battlefield, and to where Dances is firing.
As his eyes adjust, he lets go of the locket, pops out the stripper clip in his Mk. III and loads a fresh one in its place. "Come on girl, get me home," he says to the rifle as he steadies it for another shot.
Aaron grits his teeth against the pain when the bullet hits his leg. He pulls his leg in and struggles to stay conscious. "I need a medic!" he hollers, all the while propping himself up on a pile of debris; he hauls himself and keeps himself steady while he aims down his iron sights at the nearest German. He struggles to keep himself up with his injured leg and yells over his shoulder again, oblivious to Kristophe in the heat of the moment. "I said I need a f*ckin' medic!"
"We've got soldiers coming up behind us!" Dances shouts down through the racket. "But there's too much smoke to tell if they're on our side, or if we've been outflanked!"
Kristophe collapses to the ground as the blood sprays from his shoulder--the shot must have hit an artery, as well as blowing away a good chunk of flesh, and he quickly loses consciousness.
Elsewhere in the basement, Alexander dashes for the next bit of cover, firing once with his trench gun as he goes. The blast catches another German in the chest, and another corpse falls to clog the passage. Aaron calls for a medic while he lines up his next shot, and Sean brushes off the pain long enough to fire, clipping a German soldier who drops to avoid further injury.
Up top, Desmond has a moment of perfect clarity as he looks down around the church. He notes the same men Dances saw, but his eyes pick out some finer details, like their Allied uniforms--and the man crouched low with a scoped rifle, aiming at the tower. A moment later, the rifle drops, the sniper apparently satisfied that Desmond isn't German, and the man turns to shout back at the others, who begin to pick up their pace. Desmond then turns back to the Germans, and as the fog shifts and he starts to lose his crystal vision of the battlefield, he picks out an important element: a German mortar team setting up far back on the ridge.
Initiative Draws
Aaron: Queen Hearts
Alexander: 8 Clubs
Dances: 8 Hearts
Desmond: King Hearts
Niles: 9 Hearts
Sean: Jack Spades
Germans: 7 Hearts
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Alexander doesn't sits under his cover when the frankfurt he sprayed with hot death touches the ground. "They are weak, priyatels, push forward! Make them regret the day they dared face us! Blyat!" The russian moves to the next piece of cover around, blasting the hell out of the closest Jerry on his way, and throwing a hand grenade to the closest group of them once behind cover.
Still shaken up from being shot, Aaron settles his nerves when he notices the medics aren't going to be getting to him quite yet. He groans and grits his teeth to ignore the pain, then lines up a shot on the nearest German's chest. Once he pulls the trigger he slumps back down behind cover, his spare hand clutching at his leg. "F*ckin' hell," he mutters under his breath. "Just remember, you did this for your boy."
"Dances!" Desmond says, finishing up his reload and starting to aim, "That was allies down there--Gerrys have a mortar back on that ridge up and over," He points with two fingers, squinting, then welding his cheek to his rifle. "Get a good bead and we'll try and get as many of 'em as we can, real fast."
Alexander rushes from cover to cover, gunning like a madman in the trench-style hell of the cellar. His shotgun catches yet another German, and his grenade sends shrapnel flying about their close quarters, cutting across the arms of two men. Aaron carefully aims down his rifle and puts a round through another soldier's chest, adding yet one more body to the pile--pretty soon the enemy will have to climb over their own corpses if they want to advance.
Meanwhile, up top, Desmond takes careful aim through his scope, sighting in on the mortar team. If they get off a round, it could spell real trouble for the brigade, so every shot has to count...
Dances braces his rifle and aims at the mortar team in the distance.
Dances in Smoke braces his rifle in the tower and fires. There's a brief delay between the trigger pull and the hit, but he watches through the scope and sees one of the Germans suddenly grab at his stomach and collapse to the ground. The others start and look up, and then continue trying to load the mortar--only three more are standing, and every man who falls makes the process that much slower...
The snipers can also see the continuing advance of the newly arrived Allies, making their way up toward the church at a good pace. The sniper who had his rifle trained at the tower is particularly quick and nimble, and he fires a snap shot toward the German line, the bullet blowing a man's leg clean off. The Triple U are also continuing to fight from within the church, and it seems they're finally regaining the upper hand--no German soldiers are able to advance closer, as rifles and trench guns keep the enemy on their toes.
Down in the basement, it seems a similar situation: With the growing pile of German bodies, the enemy are having trouble advancing, and the men of the Triple U are fighting well, inspired by the success of their comrades. Sean Casey fires another shot from his rifle, and although it doesn't connect with a target, it helps to keep the Gerries from pressing forward.
This firefight seems to have reached something of a stalemate, but the Germans are as unaware as most of the Triple U are that reinforcements have arrived. Perhaps the tide is about to change...
Initiative
Aaron: Red Joker!
Alexander: 5 Diamonds
Dances: Ace Hearts
Desmond: 6 Clubs
Niles: 4 Spades
Sean: Jack Diamonds
Germans and General: 6 Hearts
Dances braces himself and shifts his aim to the next man on the mortar team before firing off another shot at them. "I'm out," he calls to his fellow sniper. "Careful."
Feeling some of the pain wash away with the morphine shot, Aaron is invigorated and pops up over the barrier again and fires a shot into another German's chest.
Desmond steadies his breathing, holding it tight in his chest, and takes a carefully-aimed shot at one of the Gerries setting up the mortar.
The snipers in the tower continue to fire on the German mortar team, and each shot puts down another man. Dances in Smoke begins to reload his rifle, but Desmond can see through his scope that the final member of the team has thrown himself to the ground and is trying to crawl away, apparently deciding his duty is more danger than it's worth. On the ground level, this seems to be the general way of things: the new arrivals break around the Church and begin firing, adding a large boost to the Triple U's offensive capabilities. The Germans return fire, and a couple of the new men are dropped, but the enemy looks to be giving ground.
In the basement, things are a bit slower; Aaron fires a shot, the pain numbed by the morphine, but the shadows and flickering flame and smoke confuse his target. Alexander takes the moment to reload. As the cellar fighters hold on, though, they hear shouting from down the hall to the exit--and what they catch sounds to be spoken in English. The Germans in the cellar look anxious and startled to hear it themselves, with good reason--they may have just found themselves trapped.
INITIATIVE
Aaron: 8 Hearts
Alexander: 6 Spades
Dances: 7 Hearts
Desmond: 8 Spades
Niles: 10 Clubs
Sean: King Diamonds
Germans: 4 Diamonds
Dances ducks down behind cover, reloading his rifle and then peaking over to see what's going on.
Aaron curses when he misses his last shot, and pops up again. He's more careful this time, and aims for whichever German looks like they might be in charge here. Once he finds them amid the confusion of them being trapped, he pulls a trigger to put them down and induce panic in their ranks if possible.
In the tower, Dances in Smoke reloads his rifle and tries to keep an eye on things. The Allied reinforcements are pressing hard, but strategically--the overwhelming numbers seem to be doing more than any particular strategy for gaining ground. If anything, most of the men seem to be moving conservatively, maintaining small-group tactics while part of a larger unit. The exception seems to be the sniper who first spotted the Triple U's men in the tower--he's maintained a position well in front of the others, and is now knelt behind a small boulder, aiming at the enemy lines.
In the basement, Aaron leans out to fire once more, hoping to find someone who looks like they're in charge. Most of the Triple U have become somewhat familiar with German rank insignias, but it's hard to tell in the dark and smoke and flames. The engineer spots one man who's waving a pistol and shoots on the off chance it's an officer--his target staggers and collapses, another dark smear trailing behind him down the wall.
Desmond squints, tilting his head and adjusting his cheek weld, trying to line up a good shot on the crawling Gerry. "No runnin' from this," he hisses.
"Damn right!" Aaron ducks back behind cover for a second before leaning out again, lining up a shot now on any German he can get a bead on. He hesitates to fire, hoping that perhaps before he has to take another life the reinforcements will take them from behind and force a surrender. If not, though, he still lines up the iron sights on the chest of the nearest German.
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Sasha cheers as he hears more english voices in the distance. His trench gun full of juice, dashes to the next piece of cover shooting.
"Press forward tovarischs! We are almost done with the dogs!" he yells, lobbing his last grenade at the germans"Soon I'll be there, ublyudoks! And my saber will quench his thirst!"
Desmond takes steady aim in his tower, drawing a bead on the German crawling away. The man is low to the ground, but the sniper's eyes are fixed on their target...
In the basement, Alexander moves once more, playing the madman as he has since joining the Triple U. Again the trench gun catches a German soldier, spraying blood and flesh across the wall, and again a grenade blasts through a group, leaving men wounded and staggering.
Overall, it seems the Germans are well and truly routed at this point, and they only continue to fight because they have nowhere to run. The men trapped in the cellar fire wildly, expending what little ammunition they have left, but to no avail--no man in the unit is harmed, as the bullets chip off walls and pound into the ceiling. On the surface, the enemy line begins to waver and finally break. Although the new reinforcements don't make a push, Desmond and Dances can hear Updike himself give a holler of cheer, and a moment later they see the half-crazed lieutenant rushing forward from cover, leading a small charge with his pistol raised. It isn't the first time they've seen such behavior from the man, and like always, he seems defiant and invincible in the face of what should be fatal danger. Bullets just never seem to quite touch Lieutenant Updike--supposedly because they fear him as much as the men who shoot at him.
INITIATIVE
Aaron: Joker
Alexander: Ace Diamonds
Dances: Jack Clubs
Desmond: 6 Diamonds
Germans: 8 Diamonds
"Damn it," Dances mutters. He raises his newly loaded rifle and aims down sights again, picking whatever target seems most likely to take a shot at the lieutenant.
Invigorated by his previous success, Aaron forgoes his careful aiming and trusts his gut. With one possible officer down Aaron shoots at the next most important target he can find, then flip-cocks the rifle before bringing it up to his eye and blowing his target away.
"You ain't gettin' away," Desmond mutters, sighting in and taking a deep breath, holding it in the center of his chest as he squeezes the trigger.
"God bless you John Paris Lee," he says, marvelling at his rifle.
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With the germans trapped and demoralised, Alexander grins "The time has almost come,
bastards! You will taste my steel! For the motherland!" as he fires his trench gun at the first jerry he sees.
Without delay, the Russian dropped his gun to the ground and drew his cavalry saber. The glorious melee was about to start.
The snipers in the tower lift their rifles and fire once more; Dances picks off a German rifleman who was aiming at the lieutenant, and Desmond puts down the final member of the mortar team. On the ground, the overwhelming forces of the Triple U and their new allies drive back the enemy, and with their line fully broken, the Germans begin to retreat, stray gunshots and cheers at their backs. In the cellar, Aaron and Alexander each continue to fire, dropping a couple more Germans. Even as the Russian draws his saber, there's shouting from down the hall, then a scream, and then the muffled blast of hand grenades. When the smoke raised up by the explosions clears, the gunfire has stopped, and there's only the scattered moans of the dying. This battle is over, and the Allies have won.
Knowing their commander will likely want to speak, the Triple U begins moving back to the main floor of the church soon enough. Those in the cellar finally get a look at the reinforcements, also Allied soldiers, apparently of multiple nationalities as well. Before long, everyone is gathered above ground, with the Triple U spread throughout the church, and the new arrivals mostly in a mass at the broken wall. The other group's commander will probably speak to the Lieutenant soon, but for right now, Updike is moving among his men, checking with each of them for after-battle reports and noting conditions. To each and every man of the unit, he cocks his hat, winks with a grin, and asks, "You do alright?"
With the German lines finally broken, Dances slings his rifle back over his shoulder and climbs back down to ground level. "Nothing I will not recover from," he says as the lieutenant. "The Germans are lucky, but I am luckier."
"Fresh clips, everyone," Desmond says, shakily reloading and checking his locket before climbing back down after Dances. "We did good sir," he says to the LT. With the battle over, his bravado seems to have sunk all the way back down into his shoes.
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"Blyatz!" loudly blasphemed Old Sasha as he kicked a german helmet lying on the floor "I was about to show those bastards what my blade is capable of!"
After exhaling and cooling down, Alexander sheathed his blade and started laughing "Not that I complain, priyatels! Reinforcements are always a glorious sight, but I wanted to give them a true reason to show their tails and run Captain!"
Updike grins at the men as they respond, and he claps Alexander on the shoulder. As he does so, there's a cough from behind him, and he turns to regard its source: a man who's stepped forward from the other unit, with tussled blond hair and a thin mustache and beard. His rank insignia indicates that he's a Captain, and when he speaks, his voice carries authority and dignity--along with an accent curious to many of the soldiers present. "Lieutenant Updike?"
The Triple U chuckles and glances to his men. "Good, a Canuck," he says with a wink. "They're near as crazy as we are." Whether Updike is referring to Australians or his unit isn't clear, but he steps toward the Captain with a grin and an only somewhat sloppy salute. "Triple U at your service, Cap. F*cking brilliant timing, your showing up, if I might say so. Glad to help if I can, since I'm guessing you were sent to assist us."
The Captain, for his part, smiles back and extends a hand. "Jean Baptiste Saint-George, Lieutenant." He gestures for Updike to accompany him as he begins to walk back outside. "I'm actually hoping to speak with you about that..." The conversation continues, but the two men are quickly out of earshot of others, their voices low enough that they don't carry far.
Shortly, everyone is reloading weapons, checking wounded, and generally taking a much-deserved rest after the battle. The new arrivals begin to intermingle with the men in the church. A few stick out from the others, mainly the officers: a couple of lieutenants, one a big man with red hair and a mustache, the other thinner with a black mop on his head. Dances and Desmond also catch sight of a man somewhat by himself who looks like the sniper they first noticed; sensing their gaze, he glances up with icy gray eyes before returning to a field strip of his rifle.
Another man approaches our particular soldiers as well: a burly sergeant with a large pack and equally sizable sideburns. He grins and nods in the direction Updike and Saint-George walked. "So, you know the Triple U, eh?" The man's Australian accent is instantly recognizable. "What's it like serving with him? He as mad as they say?"
"All of you are crazy to me," Dances says with a snort. "But The Lieutenant is crazier than most."
The sergeant laughs and nods. "Yeah, that's what we've been hoping for. Show the world what the Aussies are all about, eh?" He extends a hand in greeting. "Sergeant Marcus Waites, gents. Company quartermaster. I 'spect we'll be seein' plenty of each other, so if you need anything, give a shout."
Any questions that raises are soon answered with the return of the Captain and the Lieutenant--still talking in hushed tones. Finally, Updike nods, Saint-George claps him on the shoulder, and they split, gathering up their respective men in a huddle. The Triple U circle up within the church, and Updike leans forward with one foot up on a bit of rubble. He looks around at the men and clicks his tongue before speaking.
"Alright, lads. There's been a change in plans for us. I've just spoken with Captain Saint-George over there, and he's taking his company on a special mission, the sort of thing we're used to doing. He got caught up in Amiens just like we did, though, so we're both a bit low on men. For that reason, and this mission being important for winning the war, we'll be joining up with them." He raises a hand to cut off any potential comments. "Now, don't worry about being ordered off on some fool chase or something. Captain assures me you'll still be my men, we're working alongside. He seems like a good man, though, so listen to him, yeah?"
Updike winks. "Besides, from what he tells me, we're all gonna come out of this one famous. Live a hero or die a legend, that's us, right?" There's a smattering of cheers and shouts, and the Triple U grins. "That's what I like to hear. Now, Captain tells me there's more men on the way here, so we can consider the church secure. That means we're moving out soon as we can. Any questions before you get packing?"
"No questions sir."
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Alexander looks around before coughing a bit "Yes sir... I ran out of big vzyrvnoy gifts for the bastards down there. Can we look through the jerried to refill?"
The cossack waits for his more religious commrads to speak before explaining himself "Once they are mertvyy... dead they don't need it anymore." he says with a shrug "If I die in battle, feel free to pick evetything you need... But send my blade to my wife, my oldest son must have it or else he will never become a warrior worthy of my family name."
"No questions, sir. Well, other than if we've got time for a medic to take a look at my leg." Aaron hobbles over and leans on a patch of rubble, the blood still running freely from the wound. "One of them gave me a shot, and it's feeling pretty good for the time being, but I have a feeling by the time that's worn off it'll be a little late to help with the bullet stuck in there. Other than that, I'm ready to get moving."
Updike laughs at Alexander's response, and claps the Russian on the shoulder. "That's what I like to hear. Yeah, take what you can from the Hun and load up. Check things with Sergeant Waites, there, and we're moving in five." He raises a hand at the few groans from the unit, and his usual cocked grin comes to his face with a wink. "Come on, lads. Nobody lives forever, and we've got a war to win. Let's show the Kaiser how real men fight. And someone get over here for Nikhols's leg!"
So the Triple U disperse throughout the church and the nearby fields, alongside the men of the Companie-Saint-George. They loot the corpses of the fallen Germans, taking ammunition, grenades, any supplies they can carry. There's no time to bury the dead of either side, so the bodies are left when they leave. Together, the units march from the church, and from the pages of history... into something else entirely.
It's an average day before the dame walks in. Hot enough to cook a steak on a car roof, sure, but that's normal enough for August in the City of Sin. Las Vegas is a city on the rise; with the construction of the Boulder Dam came thousands of workers, and with the workers came growth. Just three years earlier, the state legalized gambling in the city, and Vegas hasn't looked back since. Now there are a half-dozen competing casinos on Fremont Street alone, and more crime, corruption, and cold hard cash seems to show up in the city every day. The depression that's swept the world isn't absent here by any means, though. In Las Vegas, the rich get richer and the poor get poorer, no matter what the casino greeters spin.
Still, it's not a city entirely without hope. Between the mob, the average palookas, the crooked politicians, and the vice-ridden businesses--most of which are a front for one or all of the other three--there's plenty of trouble in Vegas. But there's some good too, from the handful of honest cops to private detectives trying to make a difference. Of course, some detectives are more private than others, and they, too, work for their hidden factions.
So it is with the Maltese Private Detective Agency, located in a two-story brick building by the corner of 7th and Bonneville. The window for the front office proclaims the name, and offers the hope of assistance to wayward and troubled souls of the city. Beneath the surface, though, there's always something deeper. For the Maltese Detectives, it's a history that stretches back hundreds of years. And their need to help goes far beyond finding missing relatives or catching an unfaithful spouse. There are dark things in the world, and it takes a special breed to find them.
Five such souls are sitting in the Maltese Agency's office when the dame walks in. She's a blonde, but that's about where the expectations end; she's no femme fatale type, her gams don't go all the way up, and she's wearing a plain dress--green, not red. Her eyes are red and bleary, and her cheeks have thin tracks running down. She looks around the room with teary brown eyes and a hitch in her voice as she leans against the doorway.
"Are... are you... Can you help me?"
Eliza is sitting by a table in the corner, her nose buried in an old, leather bound tome when the door swings open. "Some people have a complexion that lets them cry in public. She definitely doesn't." The sorceress pulls a handkerchief from her purse and gets up, absently straightening her jacket. She always wore her suit in the office rather than her more... risque dresses. It looked more professional that way. "Why don't you tell us what's the matter sweetheart? Then we'll see if we can do anything about it." She dabs the woman's cheeks dry and offers her the cloth to blow her nose.