Case-File 001/Z: "FUBAR!" [RYAN]

[PuNk! ™]

Time:[/b] 1800hrs
Weather Conditions:[/b] Clear skies, dry and a little breezy.
Terrain:[/b] Woodlands clearing.

Extra Terrain Details:[/b]
You’re miles deep into a heavy dense woodland situated in Marseille France, bordering onto Italy, near Monaco.

---

The Mission:[/b]
Classified Case File: #001 // Z

The Current Scenario:[/b]

The drop into Marseille, France, became unstuck when the allocated clearing within the woodlands to act as their LZ, was rendered unsafe at the last minute and Sergeant Major Ryan's troop were forced to drop within the outer limits if the woodlands. Consequently, this added unneeded travel time to their agenda at hand and the trek to their objective was doubled.

Eventually arriving at their objective hot-zone, the entire troop are fatigued (you would’ve taken small breaks) after an estimated eleven hour trek through the undergrowth of the woodlands. Only sparing one single hour for rest and reconnaissance on the enemy’s compound, Sergeant Major Ryan knew any postponing to their classified mission was a no-go and their dispatch convoy to rally them to safety would be arriving at 0600hrs, under the light of daybreak.

12 hours was all that remained between the two objectives at hand, which may’ve seemed a lot of time for a grab and run, but the idea was to secure the target immediately and vanish…

---

Map

Recognisances Report:[/b]

• No sighted activity… Possibly abandoned?
  
• Unmarked trucks within compound still.
  
• Crates, possible supplies sighted.
  
  
• Looks like a ghost-town, perhaps a trap?
  

---

Regardless, Sergeant Major Ryan's troop advanced, cautiously.

* You may control your men as if it were a normal RP, editing the map with movements. I would highly suggest investigating each area as you slowly make your way through the compound. *

**Advance from the SOUTH! Out of the woodlands.*
~Danny

[Andrew J. Ryan]

Map: img14.imageshack.us/img14/1677/fubar00.png

Everything was going wrong. The clearing in the heavily wooded area in Marseille, France had been rendered "unsafe". The Sergeant Major and his men had been forced to drop into the outskirts of the woodlands and forced to double their 6 hour trek. Upon arrival, Ryan had allowed the fatigued men to rest for an hour as well as set up reconnaissance on the compound. The reconnaissance had turned up... unfruitful. Nothing had been found at all. The entire compound was eerily abandoned and empty, as if the Germans had known they were coming and evacuated. Was it a trap? Were they aware the small, elite group of men were coming beforehand? There was no way to be certain, except if they ventured into the heart of the beast. The compound itself.

Ryan had selected the cream of the crop for the mission at hand. Except for the three men that Captain Patterson had advised, no that wasn't right, ordered him to take along for the trip. Corporal Balboa, a small time boxer from Philadelphia and battle-hardened soldier. Brock Samson, Corporal, a football player who had been expelled from college and left with no other choice than the military. Combat Engineer Peter Griffin, a humorous family-man from Rhode Island who was more than exceptional at doing his job done right. At times, the man could appear as if an idiot, but he got the job done and he got the job done damn well. The last addition to the squad was Drake "Q' Elliot, a British born Combat Medic who had an outstanding background. The man's intelligence was by far the highest out of any other in the group and he had been serving as an "adviser" role to the Sergeant Major for quite some time.

Further off into the dense woods, Corporal Robert "Rocky" Balboa was taking up defensive actions on the western flank. The soldier had grown up in the slums of Philadelphia and developed into a small time boxer. A good one at that. Even the Sergeant Major couldn't go toe to toe with the man in the ring. The two had some interesting "results" from such actions. The Roman Catholic Italian-American probably enjoyed telling people his name was "Rocky", due to his physical strength and endurance. The man's speed, will, and stamina overpowered whatever strength advantage that Ryan had over him. His ring nickname had become "The Italian Stallion" which had gotten him some playful joking from the other soldiers and prodding from his Sergeant Major.

Taking up position on the eastern flank of the woods and attempting to keep on his toes was the other Corporal, Brock Samson. Little was known about his background to his squad mates. Apparently, he was born in Omaha, Nebraska to a single mother. He had received a football scholarship to a prestigious university, which would result in some sort of expulsion. There had been some sort of drunken rampage which had gotten the beast of the man thrown out of the school. With nowhere else to go, he had enlisted into the military and had ended up in the Sergeant Major's company. He was about the same age as his fellow corporal, maybe in his early or mid-20s. The level headed soldier carried a strong, but silent personality. His temper, however, could easily be blown out of control.

The Combat Engineer, Griffin, was sticking close to his Sergeant Major and hoping a lucky shot didn't suddenly blow his ass sky high. The Roman Catholic Irish American was a family man from Rhode Island. He was somewhere in his 30s and was raising a family back home. Having a mediocre job in a factory back in the states, Griffin had decided to enlist in the military to make his family more money. Compared to the other men, he was quite stupid, but also hilarious and a gifted engineer. He took great pleasure in burning things, but wasn't quite fit. He was a contrast to this three comrades. Balboa, who had great willpower, endurance, and stamina. Samson, who was referred as having the strength of two men. And even, Ryan, who seemed to be a lesser mix of both the men. Griffin was much more overweight man, who had trimmed himself down enough to serve properly. Who knew if it was the fat or muscles that allowed him to carry the flamethrower.

Last, but certainly not least, was the intelligent Medic, "Q". Even less of his past was known than that of Samson. The man was British born, but raised in America. Instead of studying off in some wealthy university, he was serving in the military alongside men that had needed him. He had shown exceptional courage for someone you might otherwise tag as weak and cowardly. Certainly, he wasn't as brave as a veteran soldier or was strong as the boxer or football player. He was quite frail, but had shown courage in saving lives when it was needed. Even though Ryan had much more experience in the military than Q, he allowed the medic to take up an adviser like role. No one was actually sure where Q's name came from. Some simply suggested it was from his middle name, Quincy. Others say it was a joke at his high I.Q. Everyone had resorted to calling the man simply as "Q" or "Doc Q".

The other three men were of lesser importance to the Sergeant Major, but still important. Sergeant Buckley seemed to be on of Patterson's favorites. One of his best. The man would serve as a second in command to Ryan, as he directed the MG team up further North. The other two soldiers, Heffron and Julian, were experienced with the .30 CAL machine gun and were chosen to tag along with the other men. They would be of great assistance as they took up positions from the dense forests to provide covering fire. All the seven men had decided to stick close together, Balboa and Samson only spread a few feet from their Sergeant Major. They all waited in silence as Ryan checked his watch. 1800 hours. They only had 12 hours to make their move. And it was looking like it wasn't going to go according to plan.

"Could be a trap, sir. German spies might of caught wind of the assault and moved the Doctor to another compound." Q whispered silently to his superior, as the man tried to make a decision. "Perhaps..." Griffin said from behind, mocking the British's mans accent and intelligent tone. The other two men were rolling their eyes at the engineer, Ryan biting his lip as he rested his grease gun on his lap. Q had been given the engineer's discarded grease gun to offer some kind of protection other than the colt pistol and to add another SMG to the squad. "Well, we will never know for sure, unless we move in. Q, inform the rest of the men. Buckley, Balboa, Q, and myself will be moving up on the left to the wooden building over there. The .30 CAL, Griffin, and Samson will advance into that small pocket of trees over there. I want a cautious advance and everyone to keep their eyes peeled on their new targets. No one moves until I command." And with that, the medic spread out to give the orders as Ryan prepared his men for advance. He glanced around quietly in the woods, looking for signs of Germans as the sun began to set.

OOC: Haven't moved up into the compound yet. Mark it or tell me if I should post again. Also will increase size when I move out of the South. Hard to fit the bigger squares down in those trees.

[PuNk! ™]

Moderation-Post & Storyline Post:

[/b][/color][/center]

---

Squad Statistics:[/b]

• Sergeant Buckley:

[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Calm
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Thompson SMG W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] Corporal Balboa:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Nervous
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
M1 Garand W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] Corporal Samson:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Nervous
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
M1 Garand W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] (Heavy Gunner) Private Heffron:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Scared & Worried
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
30. Cal W/ Full ammunition (200+ Rounds)

---

[/li][li] (Assistant Gunner) Private Julian:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Nervous
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
M1 Carbine W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] (Engineer) Private Griffin:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Happy
- Morale: High

- Equipment:
Flamethrower W/ Full tank of fuel.

---

[/li][li] (Medic) Private Elliot:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Calm
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Grease-gun W/Full ammunition.
[/li][/ul]

---

---

The Mod-Mark/Story:

[/b][/color]

Map Link
(You may edit the “noise” out of the map)[/center]

With the sun setting slowly and dusk setting in, bright orange beams of light cascaded across the woodlands and along the growth of earth within the small compound. The small chirping noises of the birds began to dwindle and fizzle out, replaced by the unnerving scratching noises of foliage from the branches above where the birds laid rest to their weary bodies for the forthcoming night. If it didn’t already seem eerie, well it did now…

The compound was silent and with the setting sun upon the horizon, the chilly breeze began to replace mother nature’s warm touch throughout the day; then suddenly, a sharp noise emitted from the wooden building that almost sounded like a “Thump…”, followed by a further few milder thumps, as if something was knocked over and any surrounding contents followed suit.

If there was any sign of life in the compound, this was it.

~Danny

[Andrew J. Ryan]

Map Movement: img193.imageshack.us/img193/3002/fubar01.png

Map Positions: img41.imageshack.us/img41/4123/fubar02.png

With the sun setting over the horizon, an uneasy silence spread throughout the compound. Bright, orange beams of light were like a final salvo of the burning ball of light over the horizon. The noises of mother nature dwindled into nothingness and transformed into the eerie sounds of the night. Darkness would soon fall over the compound and Ryan wanted his men in for a better look before hand. The plan was to move the heavy machine gun team up into a small pocket of trees with a few of the men to provide a good defense on the right flank and moderate cover as Ryan lead a small group of men up onto the left flank to inspect for any signs of life. Morale was moderate among the men, but it was easy to tell who was more nervous of the upcoming offensive actions then others. Buckley apparently had the second biggest balls in the group, compared to Ryan who had a slight psychopathic urge to kill something.

The medic, Q, returned silently through some brush to inform the Sergeant Major that all were aware of the plan and the orders were crystal clear. Nodding silently, he turned to his right to glance at the engineer, "Right, let's get the show on the road, Griffin." Signaling for a slow, forward movement the three men fell into their respective positions. Ryan knocked Buckley out of the way to come up behind the MG team who had briefly set up on the outskirts of the main woodlands. "Alright, boys. You know the orders. Move directly up into the cover of those trees and brush. I want a strong defense on my right flank so my left flank can move up and get a better look at this... compound. Julian, you keep your eyes open and protect your comrade here. You two stick with Samson and you do your duty. You'll do fine. Just fine." Ryan's hand fell onto Heffron's left shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze to initiate some kind of courage into the man.

The signal was given. Balboa and Buckley kept their eyes pinned on the small wooden building off to the northwest. The MG team had prepared the .30 CAL for movement and burst out from cover quickly. Crossing over the small, open area as fast as they could with Samson and Griffin, they vanished into the other thick, forest. With some sunlight left to help guide the way, Ryan watched as Samson lead the small trek through the woods. At the front of the group with his Garand, he became the instant leader with Heffron and Griffin trailing behind. Julian, armed with a carbine, was the rear guard of the group in case they stumbled upon hidden Germans awaiting in trap. Everyone moved cautiously and slowly, keep their eyes on the lookout for anything peculiar as well as keeping noise to a minimum. It was the best way to survive in the forest and not alert any nearby listeners of their presence in the compound.

All Ryan could do was pray that his words had some effect in their morale and that they would get through on the other edge. As the MG team slowly got down onto their bellies, bringing the .30 CAL with them, the other two men became the rear guards. Griffin and Samson lingered a few feet behind the gunners and kept a watch on their flanks. Julian and Heffron had found a perfect spot for the machine-gun, between two medium sized bushes. Peeking the barrel of the gun out from the woods, they managed to maintain a hidden position as well get a great view on the eastern flank of the compound. Stage 1 of the small operation was complete and the Sergeant Major lead Balboa, Buckley, and Q along the edge of the forest slowly. Nowhere near being able to clear out the entire length of the heavily forested area, everything they did had to be cautious. Even movement, as they attempted to avoid making loud, noisy alarms to the enemy.

Aligned with the southernmost wooden building, Ryan got down low and took a good look. He narrowed his eyes, searching for any signs of a sentry or hidden Kraut watching and waiting for a push. "Move quickly, lowly, and silently. Don't let your guard down. Stay away from the windows." Ryan whispered to Balboa, the others in earshot hearing clear as well. "Ninjas then, sir?" The boxer asked in a beaten up accent, that suggested the man had taken a number of good punches to the mouth. With a slight chuckle, Ryan responded, "Yes, Rocky. Ninjas." There was a hilarious calm throughout the group, which boosted morale before a risky venture into the open. Breathing in some air to calm his nerves, he realized it was nothing like the nice touch of a cigar. Which reminded him that he was running low on the rolls of tobacco anyway...

Throwing his hand forward to signal a charge, Ryan charged out from the cover of the trees. Trying to keep the sound of his movements to the minimal, he bent slightly forward and lightened his pace. Keeping the grease gun tight in his hands, he was thankfully the "grease" part wasn't exactly true. Would be a shame to lose his weapon whilst moving forward like so. The other three men followed his lead, mimicking his movements. As they arrived upon the building, they gently came to a rest and eased themselves up against the building. With Buckley and Ryan on the edges of the building, the other two men were spread out between the windows. Everyone keeping low and away from the windows, the all looked at each other inquisitively awaiting orders on what to do.

Silence gave away to the first signs of life throughout the compound. It was a "Thump" sound, as if something was knocking something over onto the floor. The sounds continued, which left Ryan baffled at what might be going on. Holding his finger up his lips to signal silence between everyone, he pointed out Balboa. Pointing his fingers to his eyes and then signaling for the man to look into the window, Balboa obliged. Realizing the orders were to slowly get up and check the window for what the sounds might be, Rocky slowly moved closer to the window. Edging the tip of his nosed over the bottom of the window, he peered into the room to get a better view of the sounds. All the while, he attempted to not be spotted, but gripped his rifle tightly. Should he need to make emergency precautions to end it's life. Whatever "it" was, that is.

[PuNk! ™]

Moderation-Post & Storyline Post:

[/b][/color][/center]

---

Squad Statistics:[/b]

• Sergeant Buckley:

[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Pumped-Up (adrenaline)
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Thompson SMG W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] Corporal Balboa:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Calm
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
M1 Garand W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] Corporal Samson:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Nervous
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
M1 Garand W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] (Heavy Gunner) Private Heffron:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Nervous
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
30. Cal W/ Full ammunition (200+ Rounds)

---

[/li][li] (Assistant Gunner) Private Julian:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Nervous
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
M1 Carbine W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] (Engineer) Private Griffin:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Calm
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Flamethrower W/ Full tank of fuel.

---

[/li][li] (Medic) Private Elliot:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Calm
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Grease-gun W/Full ammunition.
[/li][/ul]

---

---

The Mod-Mark/Story:

[/b][/color]
Clicky!
(You may edit any ‘noise’ captions out of the map)[/center]

Right Flank Advance:
MG Team (Heffron & Julian), Corporal Samson & Engineer Griffin.

Moving in through the woodlands cautiously and taking up positions stealthily, the small squad quietly initiated their plan carefully and silently. Upon setting the 30.Cal up, Private Heffron slowly shouldered the gunnery and gazed off down the iron-sights carefully, scouting the horizon before himself; almost immediately his suspicions were raised at the barbaric sight of a uniformed dead body aside of the truck, the only distinctive details giving it away for being a German soldier was the ‘Jerry Helmet’ still attached to the pale blood spattered face resting against the dirt.

The body was barbarically torn apart, it’s limbs still in tact, but the poor sod’s inners were strewn out and amongst the corpse. Even blood smeared marks stained the side of the truck, where a presumed struggled may’ve taken place. The dirt was horrendously stained with blood and guts, as if a mine or grenade had torn the poor soldier apart from the torso - but not the limbs? More so, it seemed like the victim of a wild animal, due to the smeared blood stains across the side of the truck and along the dirt.

Nervously, Heffron broke his gaze away from down the iron-sights and looked to his companions guarding the rear, barely able to speak, as he merely grabbed their attention with a frantic wave of the hand and pointed towards the scene up-front, barely visible from their positions.

It wasn’t long until something else caught their attention however, as a few branches snapped in the woodlands to their rear, coming somewhere from the east.

---

Left Flank Advance:
SM Ryan, Corporal Balboa, Medic Elliot & SGT Buckley.

Reaching the wooden building’s exterior, Corporal Balboa acknowledged the order to take a look inside and ever so slowly peeked his head up against the window. Inside laid a large office with numerous wooden desks littering the room (three or four desks in total), all equipped with desk lamps and numerous documents piled amongst them - however, documents littered the floor too and a number of chairs were also overturned against the ground.

A metal filing cabinet in the far corner was slumped over against a desk where it had toppled forwards, but failed to hit the ground, merely balancing against one of the office desk’s surface crookedly. Overall, the room was a mess and Corporal Balboa couldn’t see anyone inside.

As Corporal Balboa strained his eyes through the dimming light and dirty window to try and see around the room a little better, he abruptly sunk down noticing the office door creak open slowly, but with one of the office desks obstructing his sight upon the whole length of the door, he could only see the halfway upwards. Still though, if anyone walked in, he would’ve noticed their face and torso - but no-one did. Slowly glancing towards Ryan, he looked back inside and strained to see what may’ve knocked the door open ever so slowly - then it caught his eye.

A brown and black tanned German Shepherd slowly walked into the room, smelling along the floor as it slowly ventured into the room, with it’s ears perked up. The dog was fully grown, perhaps a young adult, but carelessly cocked it’s leg against one of the desks as it began to take a leak. Obviously untrained or perhaps kept inside too long? The dog seemed normal, just quietly wandering, surprisingly not noticing anyone or anything outside of the wooden building.

~Danny

[Andrew J. Ryan]

Movement: img198.imageshack.us/img198/153/fubar03.png
Clean: img11.imageshack.us/img11/7530/fubar04.png

Gathered around the .30 CAL, the men looked on in horror at the barbarically mauled German soldier right before their eyes. Although they were enemies, there was a rare display of compassion towards the soldier. Maybe it was just fear of the same happening to themselves. Or possibly, sorrow for whatever inhumane way the man was killed. Blood and guts all over the ground around him, the man was quite the grimacing site. As if an animal or... something had tore his intestines out in the most horrific way possible. There wasn't much time to be appalled at the gruesome corpse. Tree branches snapping to the east startled the men. Could it be the beast that had torn the German's intestines out? Was it just the wind? There was no way of telling, besides checking the noise out.

Samson took charge of the situation quickly for a Corporal. "Julian, on me. Let's check that out real quick." The towering Corporal muttered silently, before turning his gaze to the large engineer. "Griffin, watch Heffron's back. Heffron, you just keep your eyes open. The Sergeant Major wanted us to be in a damned fine position. I ain't letting some Jerry corpse ruin that." With those words, the Corporal was off into the trees again. Leading the small scouting party with his Garand at the ready, the other gunner trailed a little behind him with his carbine. Both men's slight fear of the unknown persuaded extreme cautiousness. Stepping lightly and watching for any signs of movement or life, they made their way slowly through the trees. When they reached a designated spot as far from the gunners as they would like to go, they turned around and made their way back to the gunner's position.

***

Balboa lowered himself down from the edge of the window and pushed himself away from it slowly. Remaining as quiet as possible, he looked at the Sergeant Major a little confused. Wondering if he could speak out of his findings, Ryan raised his fingers to his lips. With no other way to relay the information to the other men, Rocky got down onto his knees and raised his hands to his ears to look as if dog hairs. Imitating a dog, he pretended to be panting and sniffing about the area to signal to the rest of the men that he had spotted a dog in the office room. Ryan, raising his thumb into the air, struggled to hold back laughter. Q and Buckley's faces were of similar silent delight at the Corporal's demeaning imitations. Balboa was slightly taken back, but Ryan raised his hand. Simultaneously, the other two men stopped their fake laughter and sharpened up instinctively.

Pausing to watch the Sergeant Major, Ryan was the center of focus was he peeked into the nearest window. Confirming that it was clear, he raised in front of the window and searched it for some way of opening it. Easing the window open, he lifted one leg over and into the next room. Ducking in to fit into the window, he brought his right leg over in as well. Lowering himself into a crouch, he held his grease gun on level with the door as the other three men followed in a similar fashion. At this point, the men really were acting like ninjas. Running across the compound silently, sneaking into buildings, assassinating dogs. There was a grin from Balboa, who knew that the Sergeant Major was thinking the same exact thing.

Buckley was the last one in the building and Ryan received a tap on the shoulder relaying this to him. Throwing his hand up for everyone to move in, he kept close to the wall and inched his way up the open door. Again, he brought his hand up and initiated a halt as he neared the door. Checking the northern end of the hallway, he quickly moved onto the other side of the door and did the same for the southern portion of the hallway. Affirmed that the hallway was indeed clear, he kept low and slow as he moved up to the next doorway. The dog, finishing up with peeing all over the office, generally ignored the movement. But Ryan knew that dogs hearing was much better than that of humans, especially a trained Shepherd. Keeping his grease gun level with relative height of dog at all times, he was on the guard for an unexpected dog attack.

The M3 grease gun fired off four shots quickly and silently as possible. The bullets collided with the dogs head, putting his life to an end. Raising upwards, he strolled into the room and steered clear from the dead Shepherd. Rocky, Q, and Buckley followed him into the room. "Find something to cover up the dog, Q. I can't stand looking at the poor thing.' Ryan muttered, keeping his distance from the dead animal. There was a brief silence, before Q nodded and searched the office with his grease gun. In search of something to cover the animal or even anything else that had stowed away in the abandoned room. There were dogs here, but no humans. Confused at that prospect, Ryan glanced over at the window for a second. Wondering if he should check the northern section of the compound out.

OOC: If Ryan didn't find a way to open the window, well then, nothing happens past that point. Or if he spots something in that room too.

[PuNk! ™]

Moderation-Post & Storyline Post:

[/b][/color][/center]

---

Squad Statistics:[/b]

• Sergeant Buckley:

[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Pumped-Up (adrenaline)
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Thompson SMG W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] Corporal Balboa:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Calm
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
M1 Garand W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] Corporal Samson:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Nervous
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
M1 Garand W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] (Heavy Gunner) Private Heffron:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Worried
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
30. Cal W/ Full ammunition (200+ Rounds)

---

[/li][li] (Assistant Gunner) Private Julian:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Nervous
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
M1 Carbine W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] (Engineer) Private Griffin:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Calm
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Flamethrower W/ Full tank of fuel.

---

[/li][li] (Medic) Private Elliot:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Calm
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Grease-gun W/Full ammunition.
[/li][/ul]

---

---

The Mod-Mark/Story:

[/b][/color]
Clicky!
(You may edit any ‘noise’ captions out of the map)[/center]

Left Flank Advance:
SM Ryan, Corporal Balboa, Medic Elliot & SGT Buckley.
Successfully clambering through the adjacent room’s window, the room being entered was also office quarters, but slightly more grand? Framed pictures littered the walls and there was only one desk within the room. Perhaps a commanding officer’s quarters? The desk situated at the far end of the room also had paper-documents littering it’s surface and numerous utensils and objects littering it’s surface. Nothing of great importance, but clearly a sign that the desk had been searched frantically, as the cabinet draws to the desk were left wide open.

As the small squad made their way into the room, Combat Medic Elliot’s left foot slipped against what seemed to be two empty cartridge shells, the size of the cases indicating a side-arm, perhaps Lugar or P38? Regardless, the team made their way to the office door and cleared the hallway, by this point the German Shepherd casually turned around and wagged it’s tail a few times, looking towards the men that abruptly pushed their way in and put an end to the animal’s life quick and somewhat humanely. The animal fell heavily against the ground, barely making a yelp from the brief pain it felt.

Sergeant Buckley took it upon himself to start looking around the room for any important documents, not having said a word, nor’ wanting too as he fielded for any important documentation across the desktops, getting a little irritated by the fact the compound was abandoned? “It just doesn’t make sense, it looks like they abandoned the camp in a hurry!?”[/I] he said with a low husk tone, trying to keep his voice down, but clearly becoming irritated by the fact they hadn’t even tried to destroy any documentation inside of the office before abandoning ship, it was all just strange, too strange.

Corporal Balboa wandered across the room towards the window, cautiously looking out through the dimming light of the setting sun. There wasn’t much daylight left and already things seemed eerie, the compound was deadly silent.

---

Right Flank Advance:
MG Team (Heffron & Julian), Corporal Samson & Engineer Griffin.
Corporal Samson and Private Julian went to investigate the noise that came from the east - venturing between the trees, the two men braved the fear of the unknown and inspected for any sign of life. Nothing. It must’ve been an animal or perhaps the wind blowing loose branches from out of the trees.

The firing that emitted from the wooden building however immediately had them on edge. All the men’s grip tightened upon their gunnery at hand, their eyes squinting between the trees, becoming very cautious all of a sudden.

---

Boring Mod-Mark I know, but like I said, this thread will be slow paced and everything has been planned out for what’s where on the map. So unless you want me spawning stuff to happen, I think I’ll stick with my premeditated plan.

Sorry for controlling the speech of any of your units, I only do it now and again to express their feelings and emotions. I try my hardest not to control them too much in that respect, as they’re your characters. Anyhow, continue to investigate mister.

In-game time is: 1825.
~Danny

[Andrew J. Ryan]

Movement: img515.imageshack.us/img515/8416/fubar05.png
Clean: img515.imageshack.us/img515/5780/fubar06.png

"Strange indeed, Sergeant. I don't think we will be finding much out just standing around. Let's see if we can find out more up north." Ryan muttered, his cold eyes washing over the slaughtered animal. Just before he had viciously put an end to the dog's life, it had looked at him with sweet, innocent brown eyes and even gave a wag to the tail. But... they were in a compound on a top secret mission. You had to be wary of situations like such and put and end to them, before they could put an end to you. There was no objection to the orders, the limp corpse of the German Shepherd just sitting there. Sprawled out on the elegant office's floor, riddle with dime-sized bullet holes. The smell was lingering in the room, an unpleasant smell of urine and blood. Had the poor animal wet himself in his final moments or was the unpleasant odor from earlier?

There was a brief moment before the men piled out of the room, avoiding the corpse in the center. For some reason, Ryan felt himself compelled to close the doors while they entered the hallway. Gathering up at the northern portion of the compound, the Sergeant Major pushed the door open and pointed his finger forward. Toward the slanted transport truck. He scanned over the open north, but was certain there was nothing lying in waiting for the men. "Alright, let's go. Silent, low, and quick." He muttered in a hushed tone, before exiting the abandoned building. The four men kept low and quiet as they approached the truck, before Ryan brought up his fist and lowered himself down to the ground. The other men followed suit, halting a few feet from the mysterious vehicle. There was something strange about it, that Ryan couldn't quite put his finger on.

Cocking his head back to face Rocky, he signaled for him to keep his rifle on the rear of the truck. The Corporal obliged as Ryan raised his grease gun into firing position. Buckley followed the man as they shifted around to look into the back of the truck. There was something obscured from his view on the other side of the truck. "Keep your eyes on the truck, Sarge. There is something weird going on here." As he approached the other side of the truck, he spotted the gruesome scene. Taken aback, he grimaced at the site of a German soldier with its intestines viciously ripped out. "Alright, nothing to see here. Let's keep moving." Ryan whispered, ignoring the gory corpse and heading off into the bulk of trees adjacent to the road. Keeping the men on their toes, he hoped they wouldn't pay too much attention to the demoralizing scene. It only added more speculation to the mystery.

As the small squad reached the edge of the trees, the Sergeant Major brought them to a stop. "You three, keep close and keep your eyes on the woods. I'll fetch the others." Raising his thumb high into the sky, Ryan signaled for the others to cross over from outside the trees. He waved his arm slightly, hoping they would notice the site. Immediately, the MG team shouldered the large machine-gun and made their way across as quietly as they could. The large engineer trailed behind, along with the second Corporal. As they gathered in the cover of trees and nightfall, there was a slight commotion before Ryan shushed the squad of eight. "Split into two organized lines. Remember. Always silent, low, and quick." The three words were beginning to grow on the veteran NCO, which seemed to sum up orders so well. Leading the left line, Heffron and Julian followed shortly behind with the Sergeant bringing up the rear. In the adjacent line Balboa lead with Samson in the rear and Q and Griffin sandwiched in between.

The two lines kept close together and cautiously made their way through the foliage in a diagonal line. Upon reaching a northwest point in the trees, the squad took up a similar position. The .30 CAL team peeked out from the edge of the trees, with Griffin and Samson creating a rearguard for them. The other tree gathered off to the right, keeping close together. "We'll stay here for now and take a rest. There's still a mission to be accomplished boys and I'll be damned if we can't find that Doctor in one of these buildings."Resting his M3 grease gun onto his knee, he tried to put out of the visions of the corpses.

[PuNk! ™]

Moderation-Post & Storyline Post:

[/b][/color][/center]

---

Squad Statistics:[/b]

• Sergeant Buckley:

[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Shocked & Confused
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Thompson SMG W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] Corporal Balboa:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Shocked & Confused
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
M1 Garand W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] Corporal Samson:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Stunned
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
M1 Garand W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] (Heavy Gunner) Private Heffron:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Terrified & Panicking (about to break into a panic attack)
- Morale: Very Low

- Equipment:
30. Cal W/ Full ammunition (200+ Rounds)

---

[/li][li] (Assistant Gunner) Private Julian:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Terrified, frozen from shock.
- Morale: Low

- Equipment:
M1 Carbine W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] (Engineer) Private Griffin:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Shocked & Confused.
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Flamethrower W/ Full tank of fuel.

---

[/li][li] (Medic) Private Elliot:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Terrified & Shocked.
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Grease-gun W/Full ammunition.
[/li][/ul]

---

---

The Mod-Mark/Story:

[/b][/color]
Clicky!
(No movement arrows shown)[/center]

Successfully making quick-time across open ground, Ryan and his team kept level headed and continued onwards, moving around the back of the truck, where they were faced with a gruesome death before themselves. Immediately the men’s throats became scratchy and a few nostrils tightened from the stench of decaying flesh, now largely apparent from such a close proximity.

Sergeant Buckley and Corporal Balboa grimaced even more as they kept their eyes on the truck, but didn’t expect to be faced with a horrendous scene of more mangled bodies, torn and ripped from the flesh, strewn across the floor of the truck. The men couldn’t see the entirety of what was in the back of the truck, due to the wooden safe-guard that was raised, but Corporal Balboa tip-toed out of sheer curiosity and immediately lurched a sickening gag from the back of his throat as he bare witness to the true horror in the back of the truck - noticing an MG42 and what seemed to be blood stained ammunition cases in the back of the truck.

“Oh… Oh god that’s sickening” Corporal Balboa said between a pause, his hands starting to tremble a little, attempting to hold back the vomit lodged in his throat. The smell was horrendous, but the bodies weren’t in any major decomposition, which suggested they hadn’t been there too long. Still, the smell of bodily fluids, blood and waste littered the disembowelled flesh of the corpses, like a summer fragrance strong enough to send uncle Sam back home.

But their orders were to carry on and the men moved forwards into the lightly spaced woodlands and foliage, before their counter-party was called up to rendezvoused onto their position. As the counter-party adjoined the main squad and Sergeant Major Ryan gave an order to rest briefly, whilst they planned their next move, the entire troop was suddenly caught off guard as the driver’s door on the truck swung open with a loud clunk, before a German uniformed body fell outwards heavily. The body thumped against the dirt hard and low-toned groans painfully immersed from the body, a deathly groaning that sent the hairs on the entire troop’s necks on end.

By now, the troop were spinning upon the heels of their boots and facing the opposite direction, their rear, thinking they were being out-flanked by the enemy. Combat Medic Elliot darted from his position immediately and fell to the ground behind the men, his main concern being the backbone of the troop and not the assault - his moves purely acted on instinct, taking cover, leaving the big fight for the more experienced fighters of the troop.

Engineer Griffin fell to one of his knees, fumbling to find his lighter quickly, in order to spark-up the flamethrower, whilst Sergeant Buckley shouldered his Thompson and fell down behind a tree for quick cover and Corporal Balboa and Corporal Samson accompanied the medic, their M1 Garands shouldered at the ready. Sergeant Major Ryan however took immediate cover and assessed the situation quietly, whilst the MG team remained put, their heads turned to face the rear, but didn’t move the gunnery’s position.

“Uuurghhhh….”[/b] the sudden noise of another long winding moan emitted into the woodlands from the same direction as the truck, but as the troop’s eyes slowly slithered into the direction of the noise, all of the men stiffened up and their faces drained from blood; before them stood the dead soldier they’d moments ago scooted passed, his body limp and frail, as the walking corpse staggered into their direction, it’s intestines streaming from it’s open stomach with every staggered movement it made.

“What… The… Fuck…” Sergeant Buckley mumbled, everyone else presumably thinking the same, as everyone froze up, not knowing what to do. Suddenly the MG team began to panic and the gunner, without thinking, stood up and worryingly stepped out of the woodlands in sheer shock, the assistant gunner doing the same, both of the men terrified to the bone. Sergeant Major Ryan’s troop was in disarray and shock, even more so when the truck driver arose to his feet, letting out a paining moan from the pits of his lungs, his face a deathly white, his jaw barely attached…

In-game time is: 1840.

(P.S: You didn’t check the cabin of the truck, so your men didn’t see a body there and yes IO has had it’s first supernatural surprise. Don’t worry, this won’t hinder the main site’s realism, this thread is a one-off and maybe, if an ideal hit, may turn into a small saga over a few years. Should anyone attempt to do supernatural RP threads, such as this, your thread will be deleted!

This site has not lost it’s realism, this thread is purely a novelty and fun)
~Danny

[PuNk! ™]

*Warning*

I've allowed up to four days of inactivity to pass, the standard inactivity policy for an hostile thread is 72 hours (three days). If you do not post within the next day at least and trust me I'm being very patient, your turn will be skipped and the moves made will be automated by myself on how the scenario is right now.

Remember the 72 hour policy, I will not allow this rule to be broken again. Particularly when you've been online every day and posted within an hostile thread as well.

Thanks,
~Danny

[Andrew J. Ryan]

Movement: img515.imageshack.us/img515/4439/fubar07.png
Clean: img193.imageshack.us/img193/6985/fubar08.png

OOC: Sorry, PuNk. What with it being the first days of school, its been annoying to switch into that school routine and everything that comes along with it. Although I've been on from time to time, usually I'm still doing some work or just not in the mood to post. I'll try to stick to the 72 hour limit from now on.

The glassy eyes of the senior Sergeant surveyed the handful of troops before. Some were relatively fresh recruits, while on the other hand some were veteran and career soldiers like Buckley and Ryan. He relaxed, analyzing the outskirts of the trees and brush quickly to figure out what the next move would be. An unexpected clunk rang out from behind, followed by a thud. Light groans emitted from the barely alive soldier, bringing all the men into the other direction in immediate surprise. Diving for cover behind the nearest tree, Ryan gathered himself to assess the situation. Slowly creeping towards the open land, he leaned out from behind the thick tree trunk to spot an ungodly sight. "What… The… Fuck…" Buckley uttered, the perfectly summing it up for the site that was being witnessed in fear and shock by all the men.

"Are those....zombies, Sarge?" A confused, yet rather calm Rocky muttered from a few paces to the left. Ryan nodded and gritted his teeth, as the truck driver lifted himself out of the dirt. "I believe so, Rocky. What the fuck is wrong with the Germans? Can't fight their own battles, so they get the dead to do it for them." Ryan said such with a slight chuckle, before raising his grease gun and aligning the sites for a clean shot. "Hear that boys? The Germans sent zombies to fight us. I think we can handle ourselves a bit better than the walking dead. Might as well try aiming for the head?" He had dropped a hint that he wasn't quite sure how exactly to kill something that is already dead, but the comic books always said the head was the best start.

The fatal projectiles burst out from the M3 Submachine Guns barrel, colliding in a volley against the undead's skull. Ryan emptied enough bullets to fell the horrid creature, watching it collapse with a thud. A similar round of firing broke out to the southeast, where Buckley was following the simple orders of gunfire and headshots. The Thompson came to life in combat against the undead, spraying the hellish beast's head with a hail of bullets. The undead warriors were dealt with cleanly and quickly, Ryan turning to Balboa and loading a new clip of ammo into his weapon. "Samson, Balboa get the gunners in line. There will be no running in this squad. The only way to fight this and survive, is to do just that. Fight this and survive. If we stick together and keep our heads, we will get our mission done right."

The other three men pulled back further into the woods on their commander's orders, Ryan feeling a bit worried about the cowardly gunners. Squatting onto his knee, he kept his eyes open as he glanced around. "As you may or may or not noticed, this compound as a bit of a zombie infestation. Undoubtedly, there are more lurking in the shadows. Our best bet is to make a break for that bunker. Find the Doctor. Assess the situation. And decide whether we stick to the mission or bunker down and hold our ground. Are you with me? Let's chalk up a victory for Uncle Sam an the living." It felt strangely familiar to a break within a game to explain the game plan, leaving the Sergeant Major tempted to yell "Break!" before heading off. The men followed him in silence as they quickly made their way to the .30 CAL's position.

"Hey, Sarge. Ninjas trump zombies. Right?" Corporal Balboa muttered, much of the same person. Nodding, he admired the calmness the young boxer had managed to retain, despite the fact that they had just been attacked by zombies. "Damn right they do. " Samson cut into the conversation, breaking his own stunned silence. The Sergeant Major waved his hand over his head as Julian and Heffron heaved their weaponry out of the dirt, giving everyone the "go" signal. The small, elite squad of seven burst into a blind spot between the last three buildings towards the back of another truck. They still kept relatively silent in case there were any more living or... not so living left in the area.

No time for rest, Ryan glanced into the back of the transport truck and the sides in case something was hiding in waiting. Creeping up to the first window of the bunker, he raised up in front of it with his grease gun held high. Checking quickly, he moved on to the door of the bunker, before stopping and crouching down low. In a line behind him came first Buckley, then Q, Balboa, the MG team, Griffin, and finally Samson. He shot Buckley a quick signal, to which the Sergeant responded by dashing to the other side of the door. With two SMGs gathered, Ryan eased the door open before clearing it simultaneously with the Sergeant. Checking that the room was clear for entrance, Ryan moved in slowly followed by his squad.

"Julian, Heffron set up in the door to watch our flank. Griffin and Balboa, you watch their flanks. The rest of you, we're clearing this bunker out room to room." Normally barked orders were whispered as Ryan lurched forward, followed by Q, Samson, and Buckley. The same general concept was applied to each room. Q and Ryan would gather on one side of the door while Buckley and Samson on the other. Ryan opened the door, with Buckley peeking in. If there was no response, Buckley slowly made his way in trailed by Ryan and then Q and Samson. The small team of four kept alert and cautious, aware that there might be undead creatures lurking about and no one wanted to be ambushed from the shadows.

[PuNk! ™]

Moderation-Post & Storyline Post:

[/b][/color][/center]

---

Squad Statistics:[/b]

• Sergeant Buckley:

[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Shocked
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Thompson SMG W/ 97% Ammunition

---

[/li][li] Corporal Balboa:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Shocked
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
M1 Garand W/ 99% Ammunition.

---

[/li][li] Corporal Samson:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Stunned
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
M1 Garand W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] (Heavy Gunner) Private Heffron:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Terrified
- Morale: Low

- Equipment:
30. Cal W/ Full ammunition (200+ Rounds)

---

[/li][li] (Assistant Gunner) Private Julian:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Terrified
- Morale: Low

- Equipment:
M1 Carbine W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] (Engineer) Private Griffin:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Shocked
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Flamethrower W/ Full tank of fuel.

---

[/li][li] (Medic) Private Elliot:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Shocked.
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Grease-gun W/Full ammunition.
[/li][/ul]

---

---

The Mod-Mark/Story:

[/b][/color]
Clicky!
(No movement arrows shown & German soldier not shown in map, due to him disappearing into the fog of war again)[/center]

Reframe from God-Moding please!

[/u]

Sergeant Major Ryan’s volley of firing from the grease-gun did what it was supposed to do in close combat and impaled the staggering dead soldier inaccurately across the torso, causing clouds of blood-spores to spurt from out of the already bloodstained walking kraut, causing it to stumble backwards as a majority of the piercing lead cut straight through the stagnant flesh of the dead man.

Groaning from the impact, the undead Nazi stumbled forwards once it’d endured a hail of bullets to the torso region, before a lucky placed shot ripped through the undead soldier’s tin-helmet in three consecutive places, rendering the zombie immobile and useless as the hunk of flesh hit the dirt heavily. Sergeant Major Ryan having to spend a few extra bullets than required to gain his needed aim with the SMG.

---

Sergeant Buckley locked back the bolt upon his Thompson and quickly adjoined the fire-fight, spraying the undead soldier who they’d passed moment earlier with his SMG. Once again the undead kraut floundered and staggered as bullets ripped through it’s torso, but gaining a steady aim with the kick from the Thompson, the Sergeant hit a lucky strike and impaled two bullets through the undead soldier’s face, knocking the zombie from off it’s feet backwards as it’s body became immobile.

---

With orders to move up towards the concrete-building (which you proclaimed as a bunker?), the men shifted from the woodlands, with the two MG-Gunners in toe, successfully rounding them up, but the entire troop’s morale has been struck somewhat from amazement as to what they’d just witnessed… Not quite knowing whether it was a joke or not? Whether they just shot injured German soldiers or actual dead men walking before them.

As the troop moved from the woodlands, they were stopped in their tracks immediately as the large concrete building’s double doors swung open, catching the entire troop unaware and by surprise, as the men fell to their bellies and aimed their weaponry towards what seemed to be a German soldier, officer maybe? It wasn’t easy to tell through the dimming daylight…

“Amerikaner! Amerikanische Soldaten! Gehen Sie jetzt - Hast herein!”
~ Americans! American soldiers! Get inside now - Hurry!

A German voice called out, the man making himself a little clearer as he stepped out of the doorway slightly, holding his hands up, waving them inwards in a gesture for them to get inside immediately. At first, it seemed as if the man was of a superior rank, but turned out to be a soldier - maybe an NCO - still wasn’t clear through the dimming light, but he was dressed in a cameo smock of the Waffen-SS and wore a field-cap, opposed to the peaked caps or helmets the German soldiers or NCOs wore.

With that, the German soldier quickly turned and headed inside, even if the men wanted to get a shot off, he was gone within a split second, the doors left sparsely open for them to enter…

[Andrew J. Ryan]

img137.imageshack.us/img137/1134/fubar09.png
img248.imageshack.us/img248/4844/fubar10g.png


The "zombies" had been finished off easily, leaving Ryan with the bad afterthought that they were simply injured German soldiers. He brushed it to the side of his mind, hoping the other soldiers wouldn't believe such and proclaim that they had slaughtered the innocents. But no, that was illogical, for they must have been dead. They had been brutally mauled and slaughtered by something, you could see it as they lurched forward with that dull, dead look in their eyes. It would appear that that was the only the first surprise the night had in store, as the double doors to the concrete bunker burst open. Lunging forward and landing on his belly, he settled his grease gun into the dirt, his finger sliding up against the trigger with intention to kill. The other soldiers followed suit, a few of them risking a glance back to check they weren't being followed by the... seemingly living dead.

"Amerikaner! Amerikanische Soldaten! Gehen Sie jetzt - Hast herein!" Ryan shifted to get a better view of the German soldier and let his finger slip as he saw him, seconds away from shooting. There was a call from one of the men, more specifically Q, who raised from his position in the dirt. "No! No! Don't shoot! Don't shoot him!" The Sergeant Major speculated about knocking the medic down a few notches for his actions, but trusted him well enough to have an explanation. Rising from the dirt, he squatted and watched as the Nazi NCO exposed himself with his hands in the air. He seemed to be waving... for the men to come inside. Why were the Germans letting their guard down if they wanted the Americans to come inside with them. It must be some kind of trap.

"Q, just what did that Kraut happen to say to us?" He muttered, shifting his gaze over to the nervous medic. The intelligent, British man had experience with several languages and had become a bit of a translator for the squad as well. "He told us to hurry inside for some odd reason, sir. I think, they are... scared of something. Scared of something enough they don't mind Americans helping them out. " Everyone knew what they were fearful of, a few of the soldiers gazing into the shadows of the trees where the dead were... dead a second time. Ryan sighed and made the decision to advance. "I suppose we don't have much of a choice then. Stay alert boys and don't trust anyone too much. I don't want to be walking into a trap here."

The seven men hesitantly picked themselves up off the dirt and headed towards the concrete building. Stuck between Germans and whatever ungodly creatures they had created, it seemed best to choose the Germans. For the moment at least. When you put a few a bullets into their chest, at least you knew they were dead for good. Approaching the double doors, he pressed his palm to the metal and nearly pushed it open. Forgetful, he waved for the men to get into positions along the wall in case something went awry. The door slowly creaked open and stepped in from the dim light, raising his grease sun slightly. "What's... going on here?" He muttered, earning a few confused looks from the Germans. Q followed in by his side and translated the response, as they stood in the doorway passively looking at their enemies.

[PuNk! ™]

Moderation-Post & Storyline Post:

[/b][/color][/center]

---

Squad Statistics:[/b]

• Sergeant Buckley:

[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Nervous, but ready for the worse.
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Thompson SMG W/ 97% Ammunition

---

[/li][li] Corporal Balboa:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Nervous & Worried
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
M1 Garand W/ 99% Ammunition.

---

[/li][li] Corporal Samson:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Nervous
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
M1 Garand W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] (Heavy Gunner) Private Heffron:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Terrified
- Morale: Low

- Equipment:
30. Cal W/ Full ammunition (200+ Rounds)

---

[/li][li] (Assistant Gunner) Private Julian:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Terrified & Confused
- Morale: Low

- Equipment:
M1 Carbine W/ Full ammunition.

---

[/li][li] (Engineer) Private Griffin:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Nervous.
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Flamethrower W/ Full tank of fuel.

---

[/li][li] (Medic) Private Elliot:[/b][/color]
- Health: Fine/Very Nervous…
- Morale: Mild

- Equipment:
Grease-gun W/Full ammunition.
[/li][/ul]

---

---

The Mod-Mark/Story:

[/b][/color]
Clicky!

***The concrete building is not a bunker and does not have metal doors. The building is made of concrete/stone, with glass windows and only ground-level high***[/center]

Worried, nervous, sick-feeling setting in…
The entire troop’s morale has began to suffer, not because of the unknown circumstances regarding the possibility of the walking dead, but the unknown circumstances now bestowed upon them regarding the walking and breathing Germans. It seemed as if contact had been made with the enemy? Not through a fire-fight, but communication form and the entire troop’s stomachs began to churn with a sick feeling. They didn’t wish to get this close to the enemy, they weren’t trained for negotiations.

---

Combat Medic Elliot & Sergeant Major Ryan:
After the entire squad obeyed orders to move on up against the building and re-framed from shooting at first sight of the enemy, they lingered unknowingly as to what would happen next. Combat Medic Elliot stuck-close to Sergeant Major Ryan and prayed he wasn’t wrong about the bold move he’d signalled to the men to hold their fire… Stepping out of line in doing so.

Moving between the ajar doors, Combat Medic Elliot purposely stepped in front of Sergeant Major Ryan, hoping the emblems of the red-crosses he wore gave a neutral signal to any hostility laying within the shadows of the building. Never-mind the fact he had a grease gun hanging at his hip.

- The interior of the building was grand, particularly for a small concrete building. Large Nazi swastika flags hung from the walls of the long winding corridor and framed paintings littered the walls. For a small compound, it seemed as if the Nazis didn’t miss out when décor was involved.

Standing at the doorway and looking inwards, they were faced with four Waffen-SS soldiers presentable to the eye - barely. Towards the back of the corridor were two crouched men behind two tables either side of the room, their rifles resting against the flat surface of the wood, shouldered and aiming directly towards the doors. Before themselves however, standing boldly and in the open, was a SS-Scharführer (Staff Sergeant) and an ordinary soldier accompanying him to his left, who nervously clutched the bolt to his karbiner rifle, the rifle neutrally laying across his abdomen and facing the wall, but the stiff posture and tight grip confirmed that he was ready to load and shoot at a moment’s notice.

All the men, from what Sergeant Major Ryan and Combat Medic Elliot could see, were dressed in Waffen-SS cameo smocks and wore field-caps, opposed to the helmets. The SS-Scharführer was dressed the same as the soldiers in the room, the only deferential difference, was his shoulder boards, red ribbon folded back at the chest buttons of his cameo smock and black iron-cross medal pinned to the left side of his chest. A fine little reminder that this man had earned the iron cross second-class and first-class for heroic deeds in battle, a distinctive scar stretched across his jaw line also showed the man’s rough experience first hand with combat, the only real beauty of the man was his piercing blue eyes beneath such a rough exterior.

The German SS-Scharführer hands quietly held his MP40 close to his stomach as the two men appeared properly at the doorway, his jaw tightening up simultaneously. As the medic spoke the words of Sergeant Major Ryan‘s question, the man ignored it and spoke quickly within his fluent German tongue to both of the American uniformed men. “Heute sind wir nicht Feind-Amerikaner, ich muss Ihre Hilfe bestehen, und wenn Sie und Ihre Männer überleben mögen, brauchen Sie unsere Hilfe auch…”[/I] the SS-Scharführer spoke firmly, apparently offering a truce? Something that may seem unbelievable, but with the circumstances of the walking dead, nothing seemed unbelievable right now.

The SS-Scharführer paused for a moment, reading the reaction of the American’s faces and giving time for his translator to breakdown the communication barrier before speaking again. “Sie haben gesehen, was dort amerikanisch ist, haben wir viel schlechter gesehen. Wir haben versucht, seit den Tagen jetzt zu flüchten, ich wundere mich Sie gingen so leicht herein” the man revealed, yet his men didn’t look tired or drained from first glance. “Nacht nähert sich schnell, ich berate Ihnen, und Ihre Männer nehmen hier Zuflucht, und vielleicht können wir unsere Flucht zusammen planen? Ich habe bereits acht Männer mit solchen Anstrengungen verloren” he revealed quite openly again? Even though the American hadn’t agreed to joining forces yet, the Germans seemed quite desperate for help, or so it seemed that way.

Translations:

Heute sind wir nicht Feind-Amerikaner, ich muss Ihre Hilfe bestehen, und wenn Sie und Ihre Männer überleben mögen, brauchen Sie unsere Hilfe auch…
- Today we are not enemies American, I must insist your help and if you and your men wish to survive, you will be needing our help too...

Sie haben gesehen, was dort amerikanisch ist, haben wir viel schlechter gesehen. Wir haben versucht, seit den Tagen jetzt zu flüchten, ich wundere mich Sie gingen so leicht herein.
- You have seen what is out there American, we have seen far worse. We have been trying to escape for days now, I am amazed you walked in so easily.

Nacht nähert sich schnell, ich berate Ihnen, und Ihre Männer nehmen hier Zuflucht, und vielleicht können wir unsere Flucht zusammen planen? Ich habe bereits acht Männer mit solchen Anstrengungen verloren.
- Night is approaching fast, I advise you and your men take refuge here and perhaps we can plan our escape together? I have already lost eight men with such efforts.

[Andrew J. Ryan]

The interior of the rather small concrete building was grand for what the Sergeant Major was expecting. The eye catching red swastika flags were gloriously hung along the walls as well as paintings that welcomed the American soldiers in. Disgusted, Ryan's eyes scanned the decorations of the long corridor as Elliot translated for him. Admiring the beautiful decor was a cover up for eying the Nazi positions, counting 3 soldiers nervously aiming for the door. They were in a far superior position and, as such, had to be trusted. For now at least. "Today we are not enemies American, I must insist your help and if you and your men wish to survive, you will be needing our help too..." He glanced over to his translator as he spoke, his face stern and calm. A truce was being offered apparently, which in normal circumstances would be insane. Somehow, it would be insane not to accept the offer of peace.

"You have seen what is out there American, we have seen far worse. We have been trying to escape for days now, I am amazed you walked in so easily. Night is approaching fast, I advise you and your men take refuge here and perhaps we can plan our escape together? I have already lost eight men with such efforts." Pausing, the senior NCO glanced at Elliot for a second as if his face would hold some sort of sage-like advice. However, it did not and Ryan ended up staring down the concrete corridor at the confident man. Ryan could kill the man in a split second decision. Though, the same could be said for the Germans who were ready with their rifles. Nodding, he stepped forward into the room and spoke. "Very well, then. I accept your offer of truce and will follow a peace agreement until we part in the morning, if we part. We shall hold out here tonight and decide to escape or not by daybreak. Until then, we fight together. Is that understood, men?"

The last few words were directed at his own soldiers, who were nodding in silence. Morale was in a terrible declining position, but it would be best to join arms with the Germans than to make some hostile action. After all, what if they were to simply rise from the dead again? They needed all the help the could get and this was all they could get. Elliot had finished translating, in fluent German, before the Sergeant Major spoke again. "Have your men stand down, so my men may enter the room with no threat of violence. Men, no shooting. The war may as well as be over, until we part ways with these Germans. We're at peace for the time being." Quickly, the words were translated again by the Briton. Ryan placed his hand on the nervous man's shoulder, before showing his confidence by taking a few grand steps into the building. He waited for the lower ranking German NCO to oblige, before ordering his men into the room.

Once all the Americans had gathered in the corridor, Ryan stepped forward towards the NCO and dragged his now translator with him. There was an odd feeling that Elliot would be by Ryan's side the entire night, which was probably likely. "I am Sergeant Major Ryan. We should defuse the situation quickly. I do not think either of our men enjoy standing at opposite ends of a room, staring at each other. We should set up defensive positions and any camaraderie we can. God knows we will need it to see us through this dark night. And, while were at it, do you mind telling me everything that will help me and my men survive the night?" He spoke with such confidence, as if he knew this Scharfuhrer before him was not looking to betray him in the future. Was it truly an act or was there something there that told him he could trust this man? There were horrible tales about the SS, but... bloody zombies? He wasn't sure how his men would handle it, but he knew Julian and Heffron would need to be dealt with. They looked as if they were going to damn well piss themselves.

OOC: No map. My men have gathered inside near the door, so I didn't feel much need for a map. If you want me to draw one up real quick, just let me know.