Execute them all (open to all)

[peterkonig]

OOC: this is my first thread so please don't kill me if it is terrible.

Country: Russia
Area/Setting: Blown out Stalingrad, The buisness sector to be exact.

Current Time: 7:00
Weather Conditions: The skies are a sickening gray color, ash floats in the air. It is about 48 degrees.


"Aus der Hälfte der Strecke!" the Untersturmführer commanded to Peter and the other four men on the truck. Peter shouldered his rifle and hopped off the truck onto the pitted ground. His sleeves and hands were covered in grease from the half-track. The vehicle's internal workings had been peirced by shrapnel on the trip, resulting in it spewing grease allover it's crew. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and then motioned for the men in the half-track to come off.

Peter looked up at the huge, bent building infront of him. The luftwaffe had commenced in a heavy bombing raid on the buisness sector, leaving it in smoking ruins. Peter's job was to exicute the surviving Red Army troops.

"Sehen Sie scharf, Kameraden, sobald wir wir abzweigen zu verschiedenen Bereichen des Gebäudes. Kill alle surviyou sehen, ist egal, wenn sie auf und bewegen oder in einem Koma. Wenn sie die Atmung, die Tötung der Bastard!" The officer ordered and Peter trotted tword the blown out doorway. Two of the soldiers went up the left staircase and two went to check the lobby. Peter and the officer headed up the right staircase.

The concrete stairs were covered in rubble and it was extremly easy to loose your footing. The Untersturmführer let out a startled cry. His foot had broken a weak step and his whole leg had fallen through. Peter grabbed his superiour by the shoulders of his tunic and pulled him up. "Sie in Ordnung, Sir?" Peter asked the officer.

"Ja, aber ich glaube, ich könnte der Sehne gerissen ein. Ich gehe zurück zu der Hälfte der Strecke. Sie können nach dem sowjetischen Bastarde selbst, nicht wahr?" the CO asked Peter. "Ja, Sir!" he replied with a quick salute. The Untersturmführer limped down the stairs as the unteroffizier grabbed his kar98k from the rubble strewn floor and continued up staircase.

Moans of pain and suffering eminated from the crooked wooden door infront of Peter. He pulled back the bolt of his Mauser, pulled out the old magazine, and loaded in a fresh clip. He kicked at the door, which gave in suprisingly easily.

Peter's eyes narrowed as he survayed the room. A large table strewn with maps and papers stood in the middle. Corpses of what looked to be officers were slumped across the table, there bodies riddled with shrapnel. A small locker and a colapsed book shelf layed across one wall and large charts and windows plastered the other walls.

The first thing that caught the soldiers attention was a moaning Russian crushed underneath the bookshelf. Peter walked across the room and stood above the wounded enemy. He spat and then shot the Soviet in the head, prodoucing a pool of dark blood under his head.

At the table a surviving officer made a pitiful attempt to grab a small pistol on the table. Peter aimed through his iron sights and shot him through the right temple, streaking blood across the papers on the table.

The locker lured Peter to examin it. It was locked pretty good, but a bullet could change that. The door smoked and then hung open. A small rolled up paper was all that the locker held. He took it and then tucked it into his gas mask container. It could be important he thought as he walked over to the table. Peter began to raid the corpses of anything that could be sold.

Peter managed to find three journals, seven packs of ciggaretes, three inscribed silver and gold lighters, eight golden wedding bands, and a small golden pen. He stuffed them also into his gas mask container and then continued up the steps.

TRANSLATION

Off the half-track!

Look sharp, kameraden, as soon as we enter we will branch off to different sectors of the building. Kill any surviyou see, it doesnt matter if they are up and moving or in a coma. If they are breathing, kill the bastard!

Are you alright sir?

"Yes, but I think I might of torn a tendon. I am going to go back to the half-track. You can finish the Soviet bastards yourself, eh?"

[☠ Kyle Steinbeck]

If no one joins this by tomorrow, I'll enter.
I've opened three neutral threads for Kyle and only one has finally been posted in, so I know how you feel. Don't give up hope, I'll deffinately join tomorrow if no-one beats me too it.

I'm not a big fan of threads having anymore than three people in them, because they move extremely slow after that.

I'll delete this OOC message with my post tomorrow! Just don't close it!
~Danny

[peterkonig]

You can post anytime now

[☠ Kyle Steinbeck]

OOC: 48 Degrees? That’s really hot. I’m talking, boiling hot, lol.


SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck had lead a storm-trooper team up into the building, obviously this wasn’t exactly his line of work, being apart of the SS-Ahnenerbe rather than the Waffen-SS; But the assault into Stalingrad was short handed and they needed every potential officer and pair of hands they could find. Unfortunately, SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck was one of them unlucky men and soon found himself storming into a very well guarded building, proclaimed as being one of the Russian makeshift headquarters, with a fine detail of men beneath his command, in ridding of any Russian parties littering the premises.

It had been several minutes since SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck had entered the building and already, they’d stormed through a showcase of three hostile levels, quickly working their way up the building in a sheer bid to surprise and catch the enemy off-guard. Taking their time upon each level of the building was cost effective, they had to clear each level within a precise swift strike, taking the enemy off their feet as soon as they can - however, the upper floor was more resilient to being broken than SS-Obersturmführer had anticipated and now they were stuck between a rock and a hard-place.

“Setzen Sie fort Zu schießen! Setzen Sie gerade fort zu schießen!” SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck cried out from behind a toppled over wooden desk, his head dipping down quickly as sharp jagged shards of wood splintered from off of the desk’s surface as a whole array of piercing lead bullets spattered through the wood, keeping him semi-safe. “Sie verwenden jene Aktenschränke als Deckel!” one of the soldiers cried out from across the room, wincing as bullets sped past his makeshift cover of a table, the man beside him letting out an horrendous gurgled cry of pain, as a lucky bullet cut straight through his jugular and throat, sending the soldier backwards into a panicking frenzy, as he grabbed at his throat, choking on his own breath and blood.

Counting within his head, SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck quickly leant up against the hole spattered desk he was cradled behind, crying out in sheer nervousness and aggression as he blindly sprayed a multitude of bullets from his MP40 across the open room, towards the stiff Russian resistance locked down upon the opposite side. They had filing cabinets toppled over for shelter, tables and chairs stacked into a semi-circle, something they must have pulled together very quickly the moment the Germans had attacked and numerous other objects stacked against the makeshift barricade. There was at least seven of them, a few with SMGs that regularly had them pinned for a minute or two, before they could return fire - it was a nightmare and the Germans weren’t winning very fast.

Once SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck felt the chamber to his MP40 clunk an empty note, he fell back down behind the wooden desk and gasped as retaliation fire soon erupted, punching yet more holes and chunks of wood from out of the desk behind himself. Quickly, he reloaded his MP40, knowing they couldn’t last too much longer in their situation, before they started losing ammunition. They had to overrun the Russians in the room soon, otherwise they’d have no firepower left to fight whatever resistance they crossed afterwards.

Glancing over to the command of German soldiers, barely holding their own positions, he quickly counted their heads and grimaced as he realised they’d taken quite a few casualties; Now there was only six healthy men, at least five of them strewn across the floor, but whether they were wounded or dead was another question, as SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck concentrated on eliminating the enemy position before all was lost. He had to come up with a plan, a quick one…


Translations:

Setzen Sie fort Zu schießen! Setzen Sie gerade fort zu schießen!
- Keep Firing! Just keep firing!

Sie verwenden jene Aktenschränke als Deckel!
- They are using those filing cabinets as cover!

[peterkonig]

"Soldaten in Ordnung, wir werden wieder für die verwundeten Russen später. Wir haben Wort von einer kleinen Gruppe von Soldaten gingen, um einen russischen provisorischen Sitz. Sie haben noch nicht zurückgegeben, so werden wir, um zu sehen, was aus ihnen geworden." The Untersturmführer spoke as Peter and the other soldiers climbed on the half-track. The officer had pulled them out of the building and back on the half-track. Peter sat down next to the officer and attempted to make small talk.

"Hallo sir. Mein Name ist Peter." He said with a cheery tone, dispite the dreary, war-torn landscape. "Rufen Sie mich Sir. Das ist genug. The other man said in an irratated tone. Peter decided to back off, instead fiddling with his rifle's bolt.

BAM!

Bump.

Smoke wisped up from the front of the half-track. A shell had smashed into the road directly infront of the vehicle, spraying shrapnel and puncturing the front tires. "Steigen Sie die Hälfte-Track! Steigen Sie die Hälfte-Track!"

Peter followed his superiours order and leapt off the half-track. The other soldiers leapt off, and the Untersturmführer started running, Peter and the soldiers following him. A swirl of dirt and ash surrounded Peter, making his ears ring and his vision blur. The whole scene around Peter seemed to melt, but he kept his eye on Grey blob infront of him, keeping a steady pace.

The scene around Peter began to reform into a city as the Untersturmführer slowed to a stop. "Alright! Dies ist das Gebäude. Kill alle russischen Sie." The officer motioned for them to enter and bursted in. Corpses of Soviet soldiers lay scattered around the room. The sound of heavy gunfire came from the second floor. The Untersturmführer ran up the stairs, followed by Peter and the eight other soldiers.

The officer flung open the door to a room and was immediatly caught by gunfire. A SMG bullet hit him in the thigh, tearing through the skin and muscle and snapping the femur. Another spray of bullets hit his face, cracking his teeth and breaking his nose. The officer fell to the floor, dead.

Peter leapt behind an overturned table and breathed heavly. A private leapt behind cover with Peter and ducked his head up to try to return fire. He dropped down, a bullet lodged in his skull. The Russian fire died down for a moment, and he knew this was his chance.

Peter peeked through a small hole in the desk. At least twelve men were scattered around the room, more then were on the half-track. He scanned them, looking for a good place to run for cover. An Obersturmführer was hidden behind a bullet-riddled desk. Peter would head for the him. Even though it wasnt the best cover, Peter felt better with an officer.

Peter rised to his feet and made a mad dash for the desk. A bullet whizzed past his ear as he jumped over an overturned chair. He landed unsteadly, his jackboots sliding across the rubble strewn ground. In an amazing feat of luck, he slid behind a small crate. The Obersturmführer was only a few feet away, so Peter waited for another brake in fire.

When the Russian rifles fell silent, Peter once again got to his feet and slid behind the desk. An out of breath Peter weakly got out an "Peter König, der SS-Ahnenerbe, Sir."







TRANSLATION

Soldaten in Ordnung, wir werden wieder für die verwundeten Russen später. Wir haben Wort von einer kleinen Gruppe von Soldaten gingen, um einen russischen provisorischen Sitz. Sie haben noch nicht zurückgegeben, so werden wir, um zu sehen, was aus ihnen geworden.

Alright soldiers, we will come back for those wounded Russians later. We have word of a small group of soldiers went to take a Russian makeshift headquarters. They have not returned yet, so we are going to see what happened to them.

Rufen Sie mich Sir. Das ist genug

Call me sir. That is enough.

Steigen Sie die Hälfte-Track! Steigen Sie die Hälfte-Track!

Off the half-track! Off the half-track!

Alright! Dies ist das Gebäude. Kill alle russischen Sie!

Alright! This is the building. Kill all Russians you see.

Peter Konig, der SS Ahnenerbe, sir.

Peter Konig, of the SS Ahnenerbe, sir.

[☠ Kyle Steinbeck]

OOC: Oh, when I said I lead a storm-trooper team into the building, I actually meant your building. Nevermind. Also, I’m sorry if this post isn’t great, it’s the early hours here and I’m pretty tired.


SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck gritted his teeth within the confines of his mouth, as the loud racket of gunfire echoed tremendously within the small quarters of the enclosed room they were in; Feeling partially deaf, he rubbed at one of his ears momentarily, as if to make sure he still had one, thankfully he was all in one piece… For now. Which was more to be said, than most of his subordinates and counter-parties laying strewn across the floor, chunks of their flesh or inner bodily organs, spattered throughout the entire room’s dominant surfaces - the walls, floor, even his own boots.

Glancing around the room once again, SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck continued to think up a plan, that wasn’t quite as easy as it seemed, as their close quarter combat rendered a lot of options unusable. Throwing a grenade for starters could have unforeseen circumstances, that could inevitability cause themselves to render casualties from the grenade/s, not to mention if the pesky Russians had a brief moment to launch the handheld explosive back into their general direction - no, they couldn’t exactly bombard the enemy position with grenades, it was too risky in such an enclosed premises. What they really needed was manpower or firepower, better still - both!

Clunking back the bolt-catch upon the side of his MP40, SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck was just about to volley another magazine’s worth of fire upon the enemy’s position, when the main entrance to the room, leading out to the staircase, caught his eye; Reinforcements!? Hesitantly, the SS-Obersturmführer looked between the newcomers and off towards the enemy’s position through a blown out hole against the toppled over desk he was leaning behind. They needed covering fire if they stood a chance of taking up further positions within the room, to aid their fighting effort. “Die Bedeckung des Feuers!” SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck cried out, hoping to give the reinforcements entering the room, a fighting chance at taking up defensive positions.

With that, the SS-Obersturmführer buckled his body against one of his knees and lifted himself up to slant his MP40 against the rugged surface of the desk’s edge. Ringing his finger against the trigger in quick intervals, he spurted short and sharp bursts into several general hot-spots of the Russian’s makeshift cover; Surprisingly hitting one of the Russian soldiers, as they tempted fate to dare a quick retaliation shot towards him. The Russian’s head snapped back almost instantly, as the molten hot pieces of lead from his MP40 burned straight through the Russian soldier’s upper torso and head, knocking the enemy soldier from off the plumps of his feet.

Dropping back down behind cover again, SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck quickly began to fiddle a hand into one of the pouches hanging from his waist belt, slipping out another magazine for his M40, but he didn’t have a great deal of ammunition left, so his shots had to count from here on out. As the SS-Obersturmführer attempted to reload his weaponry, a soldier suddenly fell down beside him and SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck looked to the man wearily, as if to make sure he wasn’t a Russian sneaking up on him. The soldier quickly introduced himself and SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck nodded with a sharp “Ich bin SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck des SS-Ahnenerbe - Aber wollen wir Scherze für später sparen, wir müssen uns mit diesen Russen befassen!” he snapped swiftly, shuffling closer to the soldier as he pointed to a nearby hole in the desk to say “Schauen Sie dieses Loch SS-Unterscharführer durch, Sie können die Position des Feinds mit der Extrafeuerkraft sehen, die wir jetzt haben, wir können versuchen, auf ihre linke Flanke - diese Seite vorwärts zu gehen. Was mich und Sie bedeutet” he said in a hardened tone, having delivered the bad news.

Waiting for the SS-Unterscharführer to respond upon his plan, SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck quickly added something else; “Mit genug unterdrückendem Feuer von den anderen Soldaten können wir sie leicht flankieren, aber wir müssen ein wenig näher erst - heimlich werden. Schauen Sie da drüben, Sie sehen diesen Tisch?” he questioned quickly, roughly pointing into the general direction ahead of them, where a turned over table laid stagnant. “Wenn wir es zu diesem Tisch machen können ohne, gesehen zu werden, ertragen wir eine gute Chance am Flankieren von ihnen und dem Überraschen von ihnen.” he explained a little more to the soldier beside him, giving him one long stare, waiting for him to approve or call him mad… But there was little other option.


Translations:

Die Bedeckung des Feuers!
- Covering Fire!

Ich bin SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck des SS-Ahnenerbe - Aber wollen wir Scherze für später sparen, wir müssen uns mit diesen Russen befassen!
- I'm SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck of the SS-Ahnenerbe -- But let's save pleasantries for later, we must deal with these Russians!

Schauen Sie dieses Loch SS-Unterscharführer durch, Sie können die Position des Feinds mit der Extrafeuerkraft sehen, die wir jetzt haben, wir können versuchen, auf ihre linke Flanke - diese Seite vorwärts zu gehen. Was mich und Sie bedeutet.
- Look through that hole SS-Unterscharführer, you can see the enemy's position, with the extra firepower we now have, we can attempt to advance upon their left flank - this side. Which means me and you.

Mit genug unterdrückendem Feuer von den anderen Soldaten können wir sie leicht flankieren, aber wir müssen ein wenig näher erst - heimlich werden. Schauen Sie da drüben, Sie sehen diesen Tisch?
- With enough suppressive fire from the other soldiers, we can flank them easily, but we must get a little closer first - secretly. Look over there, you see that table?

Wenn wir es zu diesem Tisch machen können ohne, gesehen zu werden, ertragen wir eine gute Chance am Flankieren von ihnen und dem Überraschen von ihnen.
- If we can make it to that table without being seen, we stand a good chance at flanking them and surprising them.

[peterkonig]

OOC: Sorry I took so long to reply
And sorry if it isn't great, I'm in a bit of a rush.

---

As Russian gunfire peppered the room, SS-Unterscharführer König peered through the small hole in the desk. The Soviets were dug in behind some filing cabinets, firing at the German soldiers strewn around the room.

Following the officer's instructions, he spotted the table. It wasn't very far away. With some support from the other soldiers, they might be able to make it to there without being riddled with bullets.

["Ja, es ist unsere einzige Wahl."/b]

The Russian fire stopped for a moment. Peter quickly raised his rifle to his shoulder and peeked over the desk to return fire. A young Russian was reloading a submachine gun, and the SS-Unterscharführer squeezed off a shot aimed for his chest. Ducking back behind cover, he roughly moved the bolt, the spent casing bouncing soundlessly across the floor.

"Wenn Sie bereit sind, Sir."

[deutschlandschutze]

OOC: Hello, would either of you mind if I joined this thread as a fellow soldier for the Fatherland?