(And...back to Germany) The Ordnungspolizei (Order Police) were being tight pressed to prevent some of the demonstrations in Germany, and the entirety of the Reich. Paris, despite now having a French minority population, were fighting against the Fascist nation through several ways, either through peaceful demonstrations in some areas to full blown riots. This was happening in many areas of the Reich, mostly its larger cities. But its scale was far larger than anything seen in history. In Asia, the Empire of Japan was facing serious turmoil. Beijing and dozens of cities in China had revolted against the Japanese Emperor, alongside a large rebellion in India. To make matters worse, Australia had not only curb-stomped Japan out of the island nation and secured its independence as a republic, but were fighting back. Japan had lost eight hundred times the amount of soldiers than Australia did when the country was invaded after a brutal ten year campaign, and the Australian soldiers terrified the Japanese after their display at the historic battle of Kokoda, despite losing in the end (Australia won the battle IRL, and stopped the Japanese War Machine for the first time ever). Rommel even said that if “I had to take hell, I would use the Australians to take it and the New Zealanders to hold it.” In the remainder of Japanese occupied Asia, a physical revolution had already begun, all of the revolutionaries wearing white to show their allegiance and devotion to the movement. In North America, the tide was beginning to turn against the Japanese as they were pushed back to California, and Mexico was now showing signs, if not extremely faint signs, of fatigue. The war with Mexico was likely to continue for at least another decade, but with a huge rise of the Chaplin movement in the Fascist nation, this would later become a death call. --------------------------------------------------- Off the coast of the Atlantic, a man watched as the shoreline of France began to appear after a beautiful sunrise while standing on a passenger ship. He was wearing a black jacket over a pair of jeans as he stood at the front of a small boat. He was not particularly tall, being only 5ft 8, but he watched as the shoreline began to come closer and closer. He had ginger hair with a rough beard, and had brown eyes. The Australian was a very long way from home and as the shoreline appeared, he could not help but smile. He was going to take a trip to Germany. (Oh look, a new character, and he’s likely going to be Reznove’s best friend [MENTION=7521]Blade Runner[/MENTION]. He is based on my physical description, somewhat...)
Once Alexis arrived back in the village she headed back to the mayors house to get changed and grab a notepad and pen. Then she headed to a local Cafe to think over the meeting she just had and plan an opening speech to the meeting in a months time. She then began thinking of her new allies, If the Scandinavian union and the New Russian Republic were well equipped, She had the Reich pressured from the north and east if Rene was foolish enough to start a full on war. She then heard the sound of engine's in the background. They turned out to be German half-tracks filled with at least 12 soldiers per truck with three of them coming there way. She told everyone to prepare themselves with the Cafe's tables being flipped to be produced as barricades and the owner pulling out a hunting shotgun. When the half tracks finally arrived she noticed the SS and SA symbols on the half track were replaced with the logo for the German Chaplin movement. One of the soldiers stepped out and saluted Alexis. "SS-Rottenführer Heinrich Van Der Berg. Ex-Member of the Amsterdam SS. me and my other 11 men as well as the 24 SA soldiers lead by Sturmführer Hans Lowery are a gift from Speer to you. We Will try our best to train and defend those who need it." Alexis thanked them before proceeding to tell everyone that they are on their side and that they are here to train and protect the village.
Reznove looked at Alexis with a confused look, "So what is protocol 14? I'm still trying to process several things that were said." Reznove was not the sharpest tool out of the shed, but he was smart enough to understand several things. Aside from the war and summit and god knows what else, all he wanted to do was retrieve his home, Russia.
"I feel that our new soldier friends will have a better time explaining it because I do not know. Also I feel you need to head to Russia, it will give you a chance to unite it while working closely with Tsar Trotsky and the newly formed Kremlin. If you accept this offer. I will see you in a month at the summit."
Reznove smirked, "Well, I guess I shall see you in one month then. If you don't mmd me asking will there be a group I'll have to get with in Russia, or will I have to lone wolf it?"
"The Chaplin Movement already has a strong connection in Russia after overthrowing Markov of Angelesk, The only powerful country to come out of the soviet collapse. So you will have a lot of support when it comes to your task." Alexis handed the keys of the VW beetle they used to get to the resort to Resnove and wished him luck on his mission. Alexis wanted Europe to be as strong as it could be and uniting russia was the first major task.
The red plane flew overhead the HQ, Adrian piloting downwards to the landing-zone, Foster in the back. The wheels screeched upon the pavement, and slowed to a halt. The two had gotten out and entered into the headquarters. They were near the entrance to Rene's office when the giant had indicated for the Sergeant to stay put. He entered into a long hallway and went through a pair of large doors at the end, finding the Fuhrer and the Axis Council. He handed a note to his Supreme, about what had happened, and that he would be assisting the Gestapo and the SSGP in Protocol 13, as well as some suspicions and that he would keep Foster with him, keeping an eye on the Sergeant. It was going to be the most fun the blood-mongering giant had in a long time, and now the shadows of the black uniforms would engulf all of Europe, and no one would be the wiser. Protocol 13 would be employed in such ways to instill fear into the enemy, and soon, the Resistance leaders would be found, set on fire, and hung with their own entrails, and Adrian would preform the execution himself...
The man slipped out from the passenger ship after evading inspection from Nazi officials, who stopped anybody getting off the boat and forcing them to show their passports, those who did not comply were arrested. The location was a small French town, and he had to find the closest airfield to take him to Germany, hopefully a private aircraft that would go under the radar. Walking along a long empty road, he was stopped by an entire group of SS officers inside of a Volkswagen van . Informing them that he could not give his passport, they gave him threats of violence after he refused to be arrested. Ten seconds later, all of the SS were dead. The man took an untraceable yet powerful American pistol and shot all of them in vital areas, three of them in the head. He took whatever weaponry and ammunition that the German's had available, one of them with an marksman carbine, and headed eastward. If he was correct, there was an airfield within a five hours walking distance from his location. He would then land somewhere in Germany, and if it went well, would meet up with the resistance leaders at the meeting in the next month. But before that, he had to find a woman in Poland, a former photographer from Canada.
Reznove was driving the Volkswagen, with about three resistance troopers with him. If he was going to board a plane then he would do it with some protection. As they rode, he could see the airport not far from him, and he would be there in a matter of time. -In the halls- Foster stood strait, not giving any kinds of movement what so ever. He remained quiet until given a command, and that was to stand there and wait. He wandered how the hell he was going through all of this? Simple, like before he chose his sides, now he would need to be loyal and stay that way, if he knew something was not right he would say something about it. But he stood there, staring off into space as his own little world took control.
The Reichsfuhrer left the room, handing a note to Foster: "How good are you with secrets? Are you confident that you are qualified to work within shadows?" ____________________________________________ It had been quite some time after the evolution of the SS. They were now fewer, but more powerful, more fearsome than ever. They had become a large group of the elite, and the Stormtroopers had replaced the usual soldier in the battlefields and trenches. There had been a few new regiments added, namely the SSSU, SSGP and the SS Wissenschaftliche Forschungsabteilung. (SS scientific studies division, the SSWF) However, the others still existed: The Allgemeine, the brains in the shadows that were not usually in combat, bat rather in the Empire, ensuring and enforcing everything as subtle and secret puppeteers, and were practically the head of every Gestapo unit in each town, and were headed by Adrian himself. Then there was the Waffen, the practical force, and commanding officer of every Stormtrooper regiment, providing muscle outside the Empire, though they were not needed all too much, but the bloodlust was fun, especially to the head of the Waffen branch, Josef Dietrich. And last but not least, were the Totenkopfverbande, those that were in charge of every camp, and ensured cold-hearted, ruthless power of Nazism in each of those camps. Briest was a small casualty against the numbers of camps, and the SSTV of the camp, Richard Glucks, could be replaced. The SSTV was currently uner the command of Rudolf Hoss, someone who got along well with the others in the Inner Circle. There was also the Verfugungstruppe, those that would go around insepcting areas, checking up on people, keep tabs, and keep order, the "local police" that were, unlike the Gestapo or SSGP, were publicly announced as keepers of the peace of the Empire, headed by Felix Steiner. Then came the Gestpo, the leader of which, whom was Heinrich Muller, was the little bird that kept tabs on eveything when Adrian wasn't around, and would tell him everything, in specific detail. All of them, together, cast a dark shadow upon the empire, a shadow with many eyes and ears... and Adrian was the head and brains.
When Foster read the note he looked at the Reichsfuhrer, "Sir, I am qualified for anything for anything." He was confident as hell, not only that, he would need to show his loyalty. If he could pass this simple mission, then he could do anything on the battlefield.
The giant signed to his friend: "I see that you are quite enthusiastic, but listen carefully: now is a time of secrecy. To be headstrong to have the Empire commit suicide. I will have you lead a group I hand-picked myself from the Gestapo. I suspect that soon..." The giant was suddenly interrupted by one of the SS guards in the HQ, and it turned out to be the young man that drove him from the resteraunt in france. "Herr Vogelscheuche, a message came for you. I believe it would be in your best interests to see it." He offered Adrian a paper, which he took and read. His demeanor became darker... but with glee. He folded the note into his pocket, and continued signing to Foster. "The note speaks for itself, and hs confirmed my suspicions. Some of my officers have died in a small town in France. I want you to lead the group up out. I have had some information come through. I want you to find a Mercedes Benz 770K. That is all..." The giant walked out the room, and headed to his office. He sat down in his large chair, and pressed the button on the intercom, and tapped on the desk six times. He let go of the intercom, and waited in the darkness of his large office. The planning table with a map of the Empire stood in the middle, there specifically for a case just as this. The rest of the Death's Head group: Josef Dietrick, Felix Steiner, Richard Glucks, and Heinrich Muller. They discussed the situation at hand, and Adrian had told them Protocol 13 would be initiated. "What are we supposed to do with the traitors?" Muller questioned. Adrian signed back in response that the traitors would be taken late sometime whilst everybody else was asleep. They were to be taken to a facility near Auschwitz where they were to be interrogted and then placed in the Auchwitz secret concentration camp. Then they discussed the matter of the group of people who were behind the comiing revolution. Adrian signed that he was going to have an investigation put on this. The meeting was ajjourned, and they Death's Head left.
The man eventually came across the airfield he wished to arrive at, more SS groups following him unknowingly to their death. By now, he had achieved a kill-count of at least 55 SS, and had collected enough weaponry in this travel period to liberate an entire village in his lonesome. He came to an isolated airfield in France roughly five hours after leaving the town, where he found the owner, a man in his 60's with a long grey beard. "J'ai besoin de faire un voyage en Allemagne. Je vous ai entendu voler sans détection par le Reich, et je besoin de vos talents de pilote à moi contrebande comme proche de l'Allemagne que vous le pouvez ". (I need to make a trip to Germany. I've heard you fly without detection by the Reich, and I require your piloting skills to smuggle me as close to Germany as you can.) The man spoke in seemingly fluent French. The old man nodded and replied back. "How much do you bring to the table?" "$10,000 Reichmarks. It's yours if you take me there..." The old man smiled as he got out of his chair and shook hands with the man. "We fly tomorrow morning."
After trekking aimless to what she assumed to be east, Ella found herself moving in a stammering stammering gait again. The bullet wound she sustained started to sting and change colors, no thanks to the swamp water getting in it. She looked up to see a small little gathering of houses nestled nicely ahead. Her gait quickened as she hurried into the center of the group, collapsing from exhaustion and pain. She felt her eyes close before being dragged somewhere, hushed whispers milling about outside of her mind. She wanted to open her eyes and see what was happening but she couldn't muster the strength to. Then, she felt herself slip away into the recesses of her mind.
(Dont worry [MENTION=3335]SirSPT[/MENTION] , you're going to get a travel buddy soon ) The plane left France at dawn and had managed to fly as far as Berlin until being redirected by Nazi officials to another airstrip and several houses in a remote area in Poland, twenty kilometer's from the Brest concentration camp. It was not what he wanted, but he was close enough to the German border than he was before. Thanking the pilot and giving him his reward, the man took his weapons and supplies before heading into the incredibly small town nearby. Where then, he found someone. A women who had collapsed out of complete exhaustion and suffering from serious wounds. He went over and carried her in his arms to the closest house to try and get her back to health.
As the man entered the house, a family of 4 hide behind what looked like the father of a family, holding an old rifle at the man intruding in their home uneasily. "Proszę, weź co chcesz. Zostaw mi moją rodzinę w spokoju ..."(Please, just take whatever you want. Just leave me and my family alone...) he said uneasily before looking down and seeing Ella in his arms. "Mój Boże, co się z nią stało?"(My god, what has happened to her?)
The giant rose up from his chair, walking slowly across the room towards a grand set of doors; It was the giant's bedroom, a room fit for a prince, decorated in the various flags of the Nazi SS, as well as the old flags of the Landsknechte. But he was not to be here for long, in this tomb filled with dark reds and crimsons and blacks and whites. He could only help himself to a long history of self mutilation. He took of his coat, and then his shirt, entering the bathroom and staring at the mirror with unseen eyes. He took out dagger, and proceeded to carve into his chest, a very dark, almost black blood like tar leaking from his body. He grunted in pleasure from this feeling, a feeling that so far in his life only he himself was able to do. He looked, and saw pieces of himself, for the mirror was broken, just like the tall man. He had grunted, but he felt no pain, only pleasure, for he had not felt pain in so long... so long. His body was nearly comprised of bruises and scratches and cuts and gashes, dried blood painting over his incredibly pale skin. He suddenly raised his luger up to his head, and nearly fired a shot; he had not flinched at all, as he had done this many times already. He had molded himself, raised himself shrouded in darkness, and was ready to commit actions deemed insane by others. He found them perfectly logical, of course, as what would be more terrifying than a man who would go as far to kill you than a man who was willing to kill himself? _____________________________________________________ Adrian had come through the doors of the room Foster was in, his long black coat swaying as he stepped over to him while he handed a note to the sergeant. "Time to leave." He had just been contacted by an informant that a plane was spotted leaving not too far from the scene where the murders of the SS soldiers had been, and was given a description of what the plane looked like. From this he followed a paper trail, and knew exactly who was flying that plane, and was to interrogate him. The two entered the garage, where a long, sleek black automobile was waiting, a customized Volkswagen, silver rims and similar to the style of an elongated 1938 Rolls-Royce Wraith, with the two extra wheels above the rim, along with silver plating at the front and topped with a flying silver falcon as a hood-ornament.
"Z moim najlepszym przypuszczeniem, ścigany jak zwierzę przez Niemców. Proszę wybaczyć mój polski, jest bardzo ograniczona." ("From my best guess, hunted like an animal by Germans. Please forgive my Polish, it's very limited.") The man went over and placed the girl down onto a sofa, brushing the hair out of her eyes that was obstructing her vision. He then looked at the old man and smiled. "Czy mówisz po angielsku?" ("Do you speak English well?") The man asked before replying back to him in English, in Australian accent. "My name is Oliver Mathews"
Finally Reznove was on the plain, but something seemed off. From a distance the troops were talking before the plain ride while he was helping the pilot fuel up the plain. He thought he heard them speak German. Reznove went up to the pilot, an old russian man he knew when he was a teenager. They treated each other with respect, "Hey, your part of the Resistance, do you know who the hell they are?" Reznove asked gesturing to the troops. "I don't know, I know most of the resistance, but these troops are new. You pick up the language they're speaking?" The old man asked. Reznove looked at them, they were huddled next to o of the benches, "I thought I heard them speak German before-" "I know, I heard them. I'll have my pistol ready, go see what they are talking about." Reznove went over to the group, hearing plain and clearly speaking German, "So boys, how are you thins fine-" Reznove was quickly cut off as one of the troops swung a small axe at him. He dodged the attack only to be hit in the had by a rifle. He fell to one knee as he pulled out a tactical knife and stabbed one of them in the knee cap. The troop fell over screaming in pain as Reznove took the pistol and shot one in the throat and another in the head. They one fell to the floor gushing blood, while the other did the same except he was dead. Rezonve got up shooting the stabbed troop in the throat. He heard loud footsteps behind so he turned around just in time to see the last troop. Coming down with a knife, the troop would be able to kill the Russian, but was abruptly stopped as he fell to the ground, a small round whole in his head. Rezonve turned seeing the gun the pilot had to the side, "I prefer not to kill, but it happens." Reznove smiled, "Yes it does."
The father lowered his rifle, keeping his eyes on Oliver. "Yes... I speak English...but badly..." he said, nodding to his family as the exited the living room. He walked over to Ella, getting down a knee and checking the badge around her leg. He unwrapped it enough to see the wounds turning yellow from infection. "Bad... But at least bullet went through... Need disinfects and new bandages." He stood up and looked over at Oliver. "Watch her. I will be back." He hurried outside, slamming the door behind him.
