Fetchez la Vache! [Open]

[Niamh Dunlevy]

Country: Allied France, at a 3ID base that is also housing some Commonwealth men.
Time: 01:35
Weather Conditions: A warm summer night. The humidity in the air is high, and the mercury reads 19 degrees Celsius. It's not unpleasant out, but it's not comfortable either.

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"Shhhhh, Fleur, shhhhhh...it's okay, sweetheart, nobody's going to hurt you...."

"Come on, Fleur, come on...."

"There we go, love, take it easy na...."

"T'ere's a good cowsie...t'ere's a good cowsie...."

"Noo noo, Fleur...be easy thaur, loove...."

In the darkness of the night, four figures moved carefully, leading along a large, swaying beast into one of the empty garages. The base was mostly empty that night, several soldiers out patrolling the surrounding fields. It had been a perfect chance for the figures to snatch the creature they had now, saving a perfectly good life from a fate she was not meant for. Those silly soldiers, thinking it was for meat; by the end of the morning meal, everything made in the kitchens would taste creamier than before! How could they not realize a fresh ingredient was at hand?

The figures halted, and so did the beast. The thing snorted, and two of the figures ran toward a small door, one fumbling with the keys to said door for a moment. However, she pulled it together, unlocking the door as the beast let out a moaning. It was such a sickly thing, and it seemed so tired - how long had the poor creature been neglected? Even worse, it had to witness people killing each other, and guns firing off...it was such a sweet thing too.

There was a rumbling, and the door to the garage lifted. As quickly as they could, the remaining figures escorted the beast into the garage. It snorted, tail swishing back and forth like a fly swatter, and one of the figures patted it on its massive neck to calm it. The beast leaned into the figure's touch, and let out a sound of content. In the darkness, the two figures smiled, especially the one petting it.

"Aw, you're sweeth," said she. "Don'th worry, girl, nobody's gonna hurth ya."

At the very end of the garage, straw covered the floor inside an unused office. A bucket of hay and a bucket of water hung from one end, and a length of rope had been set up so that the beast could be tied. It hung from an iron ring on the wall, quickly nailed in earlier the previous day by a volunteer at the base. Most of the volunteers were in on the figures' plans; there was much sympathy for the emaciated creature, and there was a desire to heal it, and keep it as a pet. Besides, the aforementioned fresh ingredients could not be ignored, and supplies on such ingredients were running low. The 3ID's commander, Captain Patterson, could do nothing; resources were tied up at the moment, for much had been spent on the liberation of Paris.

A light flicked on, just as hope for the beast had shone when the volunteers had learned of its intended fate. Now, Volunteers Niamh Dunlevy, Peggie Crocker, Whitney Lyne and a young Canadian named Laurie Josephson led Fleur the cow into her new home. She was a dairy cow, as indicated by her udder and the fact she was a Friesian; the milk she would produce would be good for the soldiers. There were some complaints about the calcium intake of the men at war, so why not remedy that with a cow on base that could provide fresh milk every day?

Of course, Fleur was not yet healthy enough to produce good milk. So, she would be taken care of until she could, loved and protected by the volunteers. If anyone objected, they would find themselves with a skull bashed in by a frying pan.

[Charles Norris]

A quick left jab, then a right one, and the left again. But then two right jabs, just to mix it up, and again with the left fist. After another pair of punches, Flight Lieutenant Charles Norris stopped for half a second, before using his last bit of energy to twist his body around, and drive his foot into the very top of the punching bag. With that single finishing move, Chuck’s late night workout was over and he dried himself off before switching off the light and leaving the gym.

The night guard, Cpl. Caine, knew exactly who it was the moment he saw the almost florescent white T-shirt emerge from the shadow of one of the base camp’s building. He was a night owl, never fully awake until 1500 Hours, and had bartered and bribed to always have night watch. This put him on duty for Charles’s exercise routine for the past couple of weeks, and they had built a friendly relationship. But just for kicks, he shined his flashlight on the Flight Lieutenant as he approached and called out his challenge.

“Halt! Who goes there? Friend or foe?”

“It depends on if you keep blinding me with that light, Caine,” growled the glowing figure.

“Alrighty then,” replied Caine, and he flicked the light back to his feet, “You know, it’s unusually cold tonight, especially for someone with your dress sense. Sir.” Caine eyed Norris’s T-shirt and shorts, “If you want, you could borrow one of those jeeps in the garage, I’ll just go spread the message to the other guards…” Cpl. Caine started to walk back towards the guard house, but Charles stopped him. “I appreciate it, but physical fitness wasn’t meant to be easy, and I can handle it. So, I’ll see you tomorrow.” The Corporal stood and watched for a few seconds as the F/L Norris turned and jogged into the night, towards the direction of Delta Company’s airfield. Caine then shook his head and marched off to make the call.

Norris didn’t know what Caine was talking about, it didn’t feel different then any other night. Of course it was cold, but chill was something Charles, as a flyboy soaring high in the atmosphere, was used to. But, right as he caught his stride as he jogged towards the Air Corp’s side of the compound, a stiff breeze started to cause a drop in the mercury, and the pilot started to think about the situation. Maybe Caine was right, and he should go get a ride from the motor pool. Charles decided that taking one break from his routine wouldn’t be a big deal, and he changed his course towards the garage.

As he neared the motor pool, he noticed one of the complex’s lights was on, for what, he wasn’t sure. Late night mechanic work? Some enlisted men’s illicit activities? German saboteurs even? Every possibility ran though the Flight Lieutenant’s well trained mind, each more unwholesome then the last. As he slinked up against the wall and slowly slid towards the door, he cursed himself for not having his .45, in case it was spies or something. Once he neared the door, he peeked in before slipping through, trying to be as quiet as possible, and see but not be seen.

[rubes]

Ruben was walking around, dragging his rifle behind him, the butt clanked against the ground. He was sick to his stomach from the recent battle he was in; more or less he stood away from his group too. He thought he could take battle, but he found out he just couldn’t stand it. He was then on out roaming the base until someone decided to come looking for him. The soldier just itched at his jaw line while he walked, listening to whatever people said around him.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he heard something, a horse? No, there was a certain rhythm to the steps it took, and there were other footsteps too, humans. ”Saboteurs,” he muttered under his breathe. He was sort of suspicious that there was a cow in the middle of the area, so, who knew what it was being used for? Ruben also figured if he got a few German Spies, he might get a little more respect; like he needed it though, Ruben was not a fan of being talked to by the others, worried he’d let something slip.

So he crept along with his rifle in his hands, up across his chest as he went. Ruben, being a little smaller, was good at sneaking. He found the spot where they took the cow in, and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. Ruben was always a little forward, so when he got into the garage, eying the people gathered around the cow.

He was confused for a second, nope; they weren’t saboteurs at all, just a bunch of people herding a cow into a garage. That just made him scratch his chin again, his mouth opened for a second to talk; but it soon opened up again, this time the words slipped right out…

”That there cow… She is a dairy, but ya’ know she must’a had a calf for her to produce milk,” he said as he stepped in a bit, he had given carrying his gun, and reverted to dragging it about it about a bit. Ruben also looked like hell, he hadn’t shaved since he had gotten on the field, and on top of that, he was talking slowly, a sign that he had bonked his head on something, and his helmet had a large dent in it, from a fight with an earlier fight he had gotten into.

[Niamh Dunlevy]

The women jumped, letting out tiny squeals and whirling around to face the doorway of Fleur's "stall". In fright, the sickly cow mooed, backing up a little and with a startled look in her eyes. Niamh's hand flew to her boot, and there was a small shwick as her knife was yanked from its sheath. Peggie grabbed a nearby bucket, holding it like a club, and all the other girls raised their curled fists. Death glares were shot the intruder's way, the group sizing him (or her) up, before they realized who he (yes, it was definitely a he) was.

"Lordy..." muttered Peggie. She breathed a sigh of relief, but then shot forward, along with Niamh. The latter attempted to grab the poor man in a headlock, taking off his dented helmet if she did and tossing it to the side. Peggie would go for the man's hands and pin them to his back, while Niamh pressed her knife to his neck's left side. Together, they would drag him into the "stall", force him to the ground, and quickly look him over.

"...'E's wahn of us," Peggie said after a moment of examination. "Looks pretty sorry and sad, too. Daan't squeal na, lad; we're not supposed ter be in 'ere. Neither is the ca."

"We've got company!" Whitney Lyne suddenly whisper-barked, pointing towards one of the windows of the "stall". Everyone ducked down, and Fleur let out a loud moo, beginning to panic with the whirlwind of activity that was going on. Whitney - standing upright but bending over to avoid attention - went over to the cow, gently stroking her side and murmuring words of comfort. Laurie, who had been mostly standing around, hit the lights to avoid suspicion.

"Righth, you're wit' me, Whithney," whispered Niamh. "Laurie, Peg, sthay 'ere. If anyone thouches t'e cow, beath t'e thar ouththa 'em."

"Yes'm," the other two women replied. With that, Niamh and Whitney crawled over to the door, waiting a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once that had happened, they speed-crawled across the floor, moving as slowly as they could. In the darkness, the pair could barely see a bulky outline, one that most definitely was a man's.

German, the two women immediately thought. Niamh placed her blade in her mouth, and motioned for Whitney to get behind her. The Scotswoman immediately turned around, and moved at a slightly slower pace to remain in position. They then would press themselves against the nearest wall, slowly standing up and tip-toeing towards the figure. Hopefully, he would not notice them, and he could be ambushed without a second thought.

[Charles Norris]

As he snuck past the vehicles of the motor pool, F/L Norris heard the footsteps of someone else sneaking into the garage. Quietly he crouched behind one of the jeeps and melted into the shadows. Charles listened carefully to each footstep as the person slowly walked past and into the garage, and when the click of boot on cement ceased, Norris peeked his head over the bumper and peered into the garage. The person, an enlisted man, was facing the lit office with his back to the pilot as he held his rifle on the ground, as if he was surrendering. Worried, Chuck scurried into the garage to close the distance between the office and himself as fast, but still stealthy, as possible. As he crawled along the cement floor, Charles caught the soldier saying something about dairy cows. What ever it was, it caused a commotion just as Norris reached a dark corner under an office window. With adrenaline pumping, he slowly lifted his head above the window to asset the situation.

The first thing he was noticed was a figure staring right in his direction, and he quickly ducked back down and hoped they hadn't seen him. Suddenly, muffled shouts announced that they had and then everything dark. Instinctively Charles pushed himself away from the wall and slid down the cement floor, towards where he had seen a large tool cabinet. He groped along the ground for a second before finding the cover and taking up a defensive posture behind it, crouched and ready to strike at the first stimulus.

As his eyes slowly adjusted for the darkness, the Flight Lieutenant thought about what he had noticed in the office before the lights went out. The elephant in the room was in fact a large cow, with some small, ladylike figures around it, and more people had surrounded the soldier. Getting a glimpse of what was going on hadn’t answered any questions though, only made new ones. With the cow the ideas of the German saboteurs and the like went straight out the window. But then he got a different idea.

Could soldiers had stolen a cow from a local farm, and brought it to the base, either for milk or meat? Possibly. A man couldn't live on spam and powdered milk alone. And now that the other soldier and Chuck had stumbled on them, how far would the men go to keep their little operation a secret? What would the men do to Norris and the other guy now that it had been uncovered? With no weapon himself and the other man surrounded, Charles would have no choice but to escape and get some guards. But it was still impossible to see anything, and tripping around a garage would only alert the men to his position, and if they had guns with him, Chuck, even with all his physical training, would be no match. He would have to take it slowly.

And so, slowly, Charles started crawling towards the open garage door, the only light source, it’s moonlight only slightly better then the complete darkness of the rest of the garage. But suddenly he caught the feeling of something breathing behind him. Quickly he leaped up, turning around as he stretched out with a fist ready to connect with the first thing he saw through the darkness. Fortunately though, the excitement had enlarged his pupils, and with fresh night vision he could faintly see the feminine facial features of his assailant.

“A woman?" The thought pulsed around Chuck’s head, and it overruled his instinct, stopping his fist only a few inches away from connecting.

With his mind buzzing with questions, his body loosen. It was silly trying to figure it all out, it would be better just to ask. He was an officer of the United States Air Corp afterall, and what was the point of the rank if you couldn't demand respect.

“Alright, what’s going on here? And someone turn on some lights!” The Flight Lieutenant barked towards the woman.

[Daniel Brennan]

Mod Post

CP:
Niamh Dunlevy: 4CP

Flight Lieutenant Norris: 4CP

Private Hartley: 2CP


~Dan