A Crossing of the Paths [Rhys/David]

[Vivienne Rousseau]

Country: Somewhere in Poland.
Area/Setting: A thick forest, filled with coniferous trees. The snow would be up to the knees of your average human male. The moon is but a faint crescent, making visibility difficult in the shadow of the trees without a source of light, such as a torch/flashlight or a lantern. It's enough to unnerve a person.

Current Time: 21:37
Weather Conditions: Cold. As. Heck. -20 degrees Celsius, with a -10 windchill. Snow does not fall this eve, but the wind whips up occasionally, throwing handfuls of powder into the faces of many. Frostbite is a risk.

- = = -

The icy air was hard on Vivienne. She was exhausted, even after only a few hours of trekking, and the chest pains that often plagued her were back with a vengeance. Her legs were so stiff, they burned when she tried to move them, and her back was no better off. The Nazis had noticed this, and as both an insult and a convenience, had tied Vivienne to a pine tree while they set up camp. After all, they had to bring her back to the nearby work camp - she was the only one who could pull a heavy sledge without any help.

As the Germans yakked on and on nearby, sharing a pot of watered-down potato soup, Vivienne growled under her breath. She hated this. The lioness within her had been temporarily forced back by nothing more then aches and pains. These Nazis were supposed to fear her; instead, they were perfectly calm, knowing she couldn't get away. Vivienne hated that. She'd break all of their scrawny little necks when she finally freed herself from the ropes.

Turning away from the sight of the nearby Germans, Vivienne raised her arm up, and in a semi-desperate move, began to gnaw at a knot on her wrist with her teeth. Stories of prisoners escaping ropes by biting through them were not foreign to her, and she had nearly done it once before as well. However, the cord was thick and prickly, and frozen solid from the ungodly Polish temperatures. Vivienne cursed in French; what luck she had.

Growling again, the giant glanced over her shoulder, feeling a pang of hatred. They did this to her. She would still be a simple laundress if it wasn't for that accursed egomaniac, Adolf Hitler. Her country would have still been free, the children free to grow up without fear of being killed for their ethnicity or the actions of others, if the Nazis had never been. But they were, and France had fallen, and the woman was determined to kill every single one of them. Many already feared her - once the cold stopped bothering her, they'd chain her up. Not without a fight first, though.

Vivienne went back to chewing the knot off. There was nothing else she could do but sit and wait, and eventually, her captors would fall asleep. Then...then she could do something. What she would do, though, was something she was still figuring out.

[Mark Davies]

Davies held his ground, prone on the snowy landscape of the Polish forest and wiped the flecks of snow from his moustache. It was freezing. The sudden transfer from the African Front to the East would take time to adjust to, he told himself, but even if he hadn't spent the past few months basking in the fierce glare of the Libyan sun, the harsh climate of the war-torn country would have frozen him to the bone. Why Hitler wanted this god-forsaken place, Davies had no idea. But it was his job to make him pack his bags. Really, he told himself, he was doing Adolf a favour.

He was scouting for a squad of the enemy that had slipped from his grasp a few hours earlier and was determined to take them down; whether to kill or to capture he wasn't sure. At his side were two of his own men - Ward and Garrick - as well as a seasoned Polish partisan £ukas who was assisting the Allied forces deep in Polish territory.

Davies was waiting impatiently for the fifth member of the party, the Staff Sergeant Bevan who had been drafted into the division not a few weeks earlier. He had an impressive track record on the field but all accounts showed that he was a hot-headed young man who did not take orders lightly. He wasn't sure whether he would get on with the Welshman but perhaps this evening's sport would serve as a probation for him. Davies didn't suffer fools gladly and he had the sneaking suspicion that this Bevan fitted very neatly into that category.

He was supposed to be fetching supplies for the party; ammo, sidearms and the like but was supposed to have joined up with Davies and the rest of the force twenty minutes earlier. If he was dead, it would be Davies who'd have his head on the block, thought the Warrant Officer to himself grimly.

Every second Bevan was apart, the farther away the enemy were getting. And Davies would not let them get away. Not this time.

"If he doesn't come in two minutes, we're leaving without him," he said gruffly.

[S.SGT David Bevan]

Staff Sergeant Bevan was lying prone ready with his rifle. He drummed his fingers on the wooden but inches short of the trigger to try and keep the blood flowing through his freezing hand. David had been stationed in the area for a month or so and had become fairly used to the seriously low temperature.

He surveyed the small, countryside farm through his the telescopic sight of his Lee-Enfield. This was the safe house where he was supposed to rendezvous with some Polish resistance members and stock up on supplies .When he was confident the area was clear he moved to the farm house door and let himself in.

Inside he felt the warmth of the open fireplace of the next room surge through his body. He was about to step out of the hallway and into the living room when he hared a shot followed by the sound of a heavy object dropping to the floor. David instinctively pressed himself against the wall and drew his sidearm allowing his rifle to hang on it's sling.

He could hear at least two voices in the living room which seemed to be having a conversation in German. He could not make out the words due to the howling wind outside.

David flicked the safety of his pistol and prepared to move in. When he was ready he stepped through the door a pistol held in his outstretched hands. He saw three Nazi soldiers sitting in arm chairs beside the fireplace. One gasped before reaching for his weapon which he had left n the ground but was stopped by two by two 9 mm rounds entering his skull.

He quickly dealt with the other two before rushing over to the table. The corpse of their Polish informant strapped down and covered in his own blood on the table. David felt for a pulse but there was nothing.

David swiftly searched the rest of the house for enemy's before holstering his Browning HP and moving over to the German soldiers. The operation would still need to go ahead and the rest of the squad were counting on him to bring back weapons and supplies.

He knelled down and took a Whealther P38 and a ration pack from each of the dead men. He then slung rushed out into the hallway and charged through the door. By now he would be very late he couldn't afford for his comrades to think he was dead and call off the entire operation.

Once on the farm yard he sprinted across the graveled floor for the safety of the trees. Stealth was no longer an option he guessed he was probably around fifteen minuits late. He coughed fiercely and panted as he rushed towards where he had left the squad.

David reached the area and skidded to a halt and threw himself to the floor beside Davies. He lay there and panted for some time before sitting up.

"Sorry sir. I reached the rendezvous and found a gestapo officer and too other soldiers in the farmhouse. I killed em both but they had already killed our informant. I didn't know where the supplies had been hidden so I brought pistols from the enemy." Said David hurriedly before passing a German sidearm and ration pack to three of his comrades.

"We have been compromised sir.Does the operation go ahead?"

[Vivienne Rousseau]

The rope had a nick in it. A nick. It was so pathetic, it was almost insulting, especially after ten straight minutes of chewing...

Somewhere nearby, an eagle owl hooted, the high-pitched call eerie in the dark night. It was perfect for the atmosphere - black, foreboding, cold...the night would be playing tricks on the German's minds the first ten minutes into sleep. Vivienne was not scared; she was as fierce as any beast the forest could throw at her. She was seven feet tall, and with muscles as thick as some of her captor's heads, able to knock people unconscious with a single backhand. A woman as strong and proud as her would not be scared by the cries of some hidden woodland creature.

Her hands sinking into the cold snow, a shiver worked its way down the giant's spine, hurting as it did so. The woman's arthritis was worsening from the blasted cold, and those stupid Nazis, they'd be sleeping soundly in warm tents tonight! Oh, they must have been enjoying this. They must have. Vivienne licked her lips and sighed in irritation, her breath a great cloud of steam in the winter air.

The owl hooted again, and the near-silent, muffled sound of snow falling onto snow was heard. Although she could not hear its wingbeats, she was sure that it had taken off. Most likely, it had gone off hunting, its sensitive ears and sharp eyes allowing it to find the smallest mouse in the deepest snowdrifts. Well...maybe that was a stretch, but the owl was still an impressive hunter. If the Frenchwoman had a pair of wings that were silent, maybe she could have flown away from the forest, too...

[Mark Davies]

Davies suddenly noticed Bevan staggering up to him, looking admittedly worse for wear. Truth be told, he looked like a drowned rat. Nevertheless, he decided against voicing these thoughts; Bevan was not a good man to have as your enemy. Then again, he thought to himself, he wasn't a particularly good man to have as a friend.

He was about to open his mouth to bark at the man for his lateness but shut it a second later as the man began to rant on about what had occured while he had been gone.

"You should have left it, Sergeant," he said disapprovingly. "What was our briefing? Draw as little attention to ourselves as possible. And what do you do? Kill two bloody Gestapo officers! We could have half the German army up our arses thanks to you and while that may transpire to be a pleasant experience for you, I'd rather not be subject to it,"

He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "We go through the forest, take down the scouts as arranged; these pistols are better than nothing, I suppose," he added grudgingly. "Lukas, lead these two through the woods. Mr Bevan and myself will follow shortly,"

Lukas hesitated and turned to say something in garbled Polish to Private Ward who grinned stupidly.

"What's he saying?" snapped Davies distractedly. Ward, a fluent Polish speaker himself, shrugged. "He says his people say there's a giantess in the forest,"

Davies swore under his breath. He could do without some bloody Eastern European superstition. "Yes, Ward, and my people told me that I had men with more intelligence than a couple of badgers but they sure got that wrong, didn't they? Now, come on, move!"

Ward saluted hurriedly, before making his way amongst the foliage with Garrick and Lukas following close behind, the latter mumbling under his breath and making the sign of the cross as he went. He really needed to be more select about who he chose as his guides, Davies thought to himself gloomily. He turned to Bevan and nodded pointedly.

"I'm not going to beat about the bush, Sergeant," he barked. "But that little girl you took in a few weeks back. The Adalheid girl. Your niece," he said the last word in a scornful tone that had earned him many a rival in his time. "I've spoken to your superiors and mine about the very subject and the answer has been unanimous; arrest her. I have signed orders from both Jacka and Rake. It's too risky to have a potential spy in our midsts," He gestured for Bevan to prepare to move out. "You and that Colly boy. I want you to bring her to me when we get back to Blighty, you understand me? If not then...well...maybe you won't be wearing that badge for much longer, eh?"

Davies chuckled to himself, signed for Bevan to follow and began to make his way through the dense woodlands. He shivered with cold but he couldn't supress a grin. This was the hunt.

[S.SGT David Bevan]

David listened as the Warrant officer rambled on about how wrong David had been. David was sure the man had some attitude problem.

"What if our informant was still alive. I could have saved him. Anyway he obviously told them what they wanted because they finished him off. If i had not killed them the Germans would know our exact location as soon as they made their way back to camp." replied David while panting.

David watched as the squad moved off into the forest and Davies stayed behind. David worked the bolt of his Lee-Enfield and quickly checked his map. He was about to follow the squad when Davies mentioned the little girl he had met a little while a go. He waited patiently for Davies to finish despite the urge to keep with the squad.

"Now is not the time for this Sergeant. We should be focused on the task ahead. You have sent your men into enemy hostile territory and we are the rearguard. We are their first line of defense from an ambush and your talking about the little girl who visited the camp. If you keep this up you're gonna lose those stripes." replied David.

Bevan rushed along the forest track until he was a few meters behind the rest of the men and followed. His vigilant eyes scanned the shadows as they jogged through the forest. They were sitting ducks. If they carried on at this pace they would surely be compromised.

David thought the Sergeant was one of the worst he had ever come across. He was like a a young Lieutenant just out of training. Sending men towards the enemy using no tactics and no attempt to conceal their position. David wondered if on their next operation he'd make them carry the colours. He laughed silently to himself.

David skidded to a halt as he saw a glow in the distance. He held up his hand and whispered to the men to stop. He got down prone and looked into his scope. It was a camp fire.

"Contact front 12 o clock"whispered David to Davies.

[Vivienne Rousseau]

The wind had stopped for a moment, and all was still in the forest. Out of the corner of her good eye, Vivienne watched as the campfire died, blurs of yellow and orange becoming nothing more then a faint red glow. Those who were supposed to be watching the fire were now asleep, curled up into fleshy balls with her rifles cradled like children's toys. Vivienne smirked at their foolishness.

Raising her wrist again, she went back to gnawing at the frozen ropes that held her, but stopped when she heard something. A distant rustle had come from somewhere to the south, if her mental compass was correct. Her head turned, and she squinted into the darkness, focusing on her ears.

There was a hiss, similar to the breezy sound of words whispered. Snorting, hot steam billowing out of her nostrils like a bull, Vivienne pulled herself up into a half-crouch. She winced as pain shot through her back and near-numb legs, and she took a shaky breath to steady herself. Her eyes narrowed, and she took a fistful of snow, her upper lip curling.

With a loud, long growl, similar to that of a guard dog's, she patted the snow into a snowball and threw it into the bush. If it was some sort of wild animal, the creature would flee, possibly saving itself from a cruel death. Vivienne then hunched her shoulders and put on her most murderous look, letting out another growl, this time slightly louder.

The Germans near the fire kept snoring away, too cold and in too deep of a sleep to hear their prisoner move around.

[Mark Davies]

Davies grabbed Bevan by the scruff of his collar and pushed him against the trunk of an old, wizened tree. The bark probably had more brain cells within it than this insolent...Welshman..., thought Davies to himself with a snarl.

"Don't you dare threaten me," he hissed. "You've already buggered up once today, Staff Sergeant, do you really want me to punch your face in so you look buggered up as well? Do you really expect me to construct a grandplan to take down three bloody German privates who are probably fast asleep by now!? No, scrap that, they've probably disappeared into the night, thanks to you taking so long,"

He released the Staff Sergeant and pushed him through the wilderness to follow after Ward, Lukas and Garrick. He had no intention of recieving insubordination from a man like Bevan. Of course, he had served in an American division for most of his military career. That would have to take its toll on a man's discipline.

The three men awaited for the other two among a cluster of snow-ridden trees. Davies heard Bevan whisper something to him and he turned in expectation. Sure enough, he could see the flickering flames of a campfire twisting in the air, small rings of smoke billowing from its base. There's no smoke without fire, Davies told himself. And if there's smoke...it looks like there are Germans about.

"Good man, Staff Sergeant," he hissed to Bevan grudgingly, pulling him down next to him to observe the clearing. "Sidearm out, Bevan. It's unlikely that they'll be alert so we'll try to get them to surrender. The less blood spilled today, the better. Besides, if High Command are so keen on us taking them down, it's my guess that they've got some important information..."

Despite his words, Davies felt his heart sink. Unless he was very careful - and unless Bevan would be able to control his notoriously hot-headedness - the snow would be stained red with blood that night...

[S.SGT David Bevan]

David was glad he was wearing his helmet as the warrant officer shoved him against a tree trunk. If this man kept this up he was going to kill him himself thought David. He doubted the rest of the men would mind.

"Buggered up"grunted David. "A gestapo and too guards is worth more to the war effort than three scouts anyway. If I let them go we'd probably be sent to hunt the gestapo down at the end of the war."

He pushed the man away and continued to slowly move towards the objective. He was careful to move only when a strong gust of wind blew so that there was less chance of him being hared. He reached down his right leg to the scabbard where his life lay. He held the knife in one hand and his pistol in the other letting the Lee-Enfield hang on it sling.

"We should probably slit their throats"advised David drumming his fingers on the fairburn knife.

He crouched behind a thick tree pistol in hand awaiting the warrant officers orders. He was thankful that he had brought his winter trench coat and gloves. The cold air still made his hands numb despite the woolly layer and the ground was frozen beneath him.

He trained his iron sight on the door to one of the tents. He got ready for an accurate double tap if anyone emerged from inside and began to control his breathing.

[Vivienne Rousseau]

At first, there was quiet, as if the snowball had done its work. Vivienne's instincts were telling her something was up, though, and the Frenchwoman tensed herself, lying prone on the ground. Every one of her thick muscles readied itself like a big cat, ready to rend and tear, to fight for the soul who had made them so strong.

It wasn't an animal. It moved too...tactically. Vivienne growled beneath her breath, too low for anyone to hear. The creature - most likely a human - continued to move towards her. The person was completely oblivious to Vivienne's presence.

Something thin and glinting poked out of the nearby bushes. Vivienne slowly moved herself towards the object, prowling like a wildcat on all fours. Her breathing was even, her own eyes trained upon where she had seen the object flicker as the moonlight struck it. A scarred, glove-covered hand slowly reached out, and she would quickly wrap her fingers around it, the ropes that held her back becoming taut as she reached as far as she could.

Luckily, the glinting thing was within range of her.

With a semi-loud snarl and a quick tug, the giantess would yank the rifle right out of the person's hands. Wobbling slightly, she would let out a thunderous, animalistic growl, and come to stand at her full height - an even seven feet. Half-blind eyes glared down into the darkness of the bushes, where the shadow of a man met her eyes. Vivienne would snort harshly, more hot breath billowing out of her mouth and nose.

"Eef you vish to live, vittle flea," Vivienne spat-snarled, "you vill get out of zhose bushes and face me."

The woman would then point the small gun at the intruder's head if successful.

[Mark Davies]

Davies didn't even have a chance to answer the Staff Sergeant as suddenly the rifle was plucked from Ward's hands and, towering above them was...well...a woman. The Warrant Officer stumbled backwards as the giant snarled at them - even through the thick French accent he understood that she did not look kindly on them.

He nodded inconspiculously to his companions and both Lukas and Garrick withdrew their weapons and trained them directly on their newfound foe. Davies didn't know whether Bevan had too withdrawn his weapon; he only hoped he had for the Staff Sergeant's own sake...

"Who are you?" said Davies in a bravado that he didn't quite feel. "Tell us who you are, give my companion his rifle back and we'lll lower our weapons, oui?"

His eyes suddenly flashed towards the peaceful figures of the German scouts the 49th had been tracking for the past two weeks. They were sleeping like babies. It was odd how different a man looked when he slept. Even figures who were like vicious monsters in life could appear like small infants as they drifted off to sleep. If Davies could have had his own way, he would have made sure that the dozing Nazis would never wake again.

"Are they...dead?" murmured Davies, his eyes darting back to the newcomer. If this...this woman had killed three strong men then surely she was a thing of superhuman strength. They needed her as their friend or...well, dead. Either way suited Davies although he reckoned the first would be a downright easier target...

[S.SGT David Bevan]

OOC: I know it's a bad post but I'm busy right now. I'l modifiy in better descriptions later but no lot changes.

David watched in horror as a pair of huge hands reached down from nowhere and prised the rifle from Ward's grip. David sat there stunned for a moment before jumping to his feet and aiming the pistol at the huge womans head. He kept his iron sights trained on her mouth at all times while Davies spoke knowing that taking out the brain is the quickest and quietest way to kill someone.

Suddenly he remembered the Nazi soldiers who were lying on the ground nearby. The noise was easily enough to wake them up. He saw that the rest of the men were ready to slot their new enemy so he decided it was best to watch the bigger threat.

David turned to where the Germans were sleeping his pistol shining in the firelight. He stepped nearer to the center of the camp where the fire had been made. David was glad of the warmth. Maybe once they had taken care of the enemy they could confiscate their canteens as David was desperate for a drink after the run.

"Sir what about the scouts" said David over his shoulder.

Suddenly he saw a sharp movement through the corner of his eye.

[Vivienne Rousseau]

OOC - If any of my post godmods anything, let me know ASAP, and I'll edit.

- = = -

"I am your vorst nightmare, vittle man. I am Vivienne Rousseau, she vho 'as snapped more Boche necks in zhis lifetime zhen you could imagine. And you?"

Her eyes narrowed, and her head slowly moved back and forth, surveying the intruders. There seemed to be about...four, maybe five of them; her bad eyes couldn't really say how many. She thought she recognized Lukas, however, from a Polish village nearby. Her lips formed a smile, and she chuckled; if the giant remembered correctly, he had been spying on the guards that were now fast asleep.

"Ahhhh...I think I remember you. Vhat are you doing here? Did your people not tell you zhat a giant roamed zhese woods?"

Vivienne chuckled again, and was about to say more, but then was cut off when she noticed that one of the newcomers was going near the fire.

IDIOT!!

A guard stirred, his head snapping up, the newcomer too far out of range for Vivienne to grab him. The guard, eyes widening as he gasp, pointed his rifle at the man who had approached the fire. In return, Vivienne raised her stolen rifle.

Her finger came down on the trigger. It was a random shot - the woman was no soldier, only knowing the parts of gun from being forced to make such - and it did no damage, landing in the snow nearby. However, it did startle the man long enough for him to train his rifle on Vivienne, giving the intruder by the fire a chance to run.

"EINDRINGLINGE!" squealed the guard. By the sounds of it, he couldn't have been more then eighteen or nineteen. "KAMERADEN, EINDRINGLINGE!!"

"RUN!" the woman boomed. "You vill die 'ere! Zhey are les soldats allemands, sortent d'ici!!"

=======================

Translations:

INTRUDERS! COMRADES, INTRUDERS!!

... German soldiers, get out of here!!

[Mark Davies]

It was as if time had suddenly slipped into slow-motion; Mark Davies saw what was about to occur before it actually happened. He saw the Staff Sergeant moving towards the enemy, he saw two haunted eyes snap open...and then he heard the scream.

The Warrant Officer could not speak the guttural language that escaped from the German's lips but he knew that he was screaming for help, or at least so as to alert his companions' presence to the small band of intruders that stared at him dumbly. Without hesitation, Davies trained his revolver on the man's pulsing jugular and pulled the trigger. The man spluttered and choked in his dying breath, clutching at his bloody throat, before keeling over backwards, reduced to twitching on the mossy floor pathetically, like a dying spider. He suddenly fell still, a silent scream still etched onto his face.

"We're not going anywhere," Davies snarled, turning to aim his weapon at the giantess. He gestured impatiently for his men to join him. "If they didn't hear the scream, they heard the gunshot," he said grimly. "Bevan, Garrick, Ward, get into the trees. Form an ambush if they get too close. Lukas, train your weapon on the other little bastard, eh?"

The men obeyed without a word, leaving Davies and Lukas to stare down the Frenchwoman, the latter with his rifle pointing precociously towards the groggily awaking second German soldier, who, whilst being very much alive, didn't look as if he was very pleased about it.

"I'll ask you again?" said Davies sternly. "Tell us who you are or we may have to hurt you," Looking the woman up and down, he very much doubted anyone would ever be able to hurt her but he held his tongue. And hoped she wouldn't take a bite out of him.

[Vivienne Rousseau]

Vivienne was fed up with these bull-headed soldiers - she could tell they were such by the most bullish one's manner of speech. Their accents was also foreign - not German, not French, and most definitely not Polish - and Vivienne had a feeling they were of the Allied side. How pathetic. It was true, then, that the Allies had slipped up ever since a year or so ago.

"I told you, idiot, zhat it iz Vivienne Rousseau," the woman snarled in return, snorting and half-heartedly attempting to smack the one who asked her again across the side of his head. "An' unless you want zhose Boche bastards shooting your 'ead off, you vill stay in zhose bushes. You are Allied, oui?"

"ROUSSEAU!" barked an angry voice, accent heavy. It was the Nazi beside the firepit, the one the Allied soldier's gunshot had killed. In his weariness, he did not notice the heads and rifles sticking out of the nearby bushes, and only focused on Vivienne. His rifle was raised, trained on the Frenchwoman's head.

"Bewegen Sie sich weg von jenen Büschen und Tropfen, der Waffe! Ich weiß nicht, wohin Sie sie erhielten, aber lasse es fallen! Im Augenblick verdammten Sie Franzosen!"

"Pourquoi ne faites pas vous venez me faire," Vivienne growled dangerously, her voice booming in the night. The Nazi paled slightly, eyes widening as he faltered, but he quickly composed himself and stomped forward.

"JETZT FRÄULEIN ROUSSEAU! SCHUTZ! SCHUTZ!!"

Vivienne snorted and rolled her eyes. He was the guard there, not the men who were sleeping in her tent. If her suspicions were correct, and the intruders were Allied, then Vivienne figured the surviving firepit guard would be the first to die.


++++++++++++++++++++

OOC - Sorry, DBev, but the ball had to get rolling again. This is the only time I'll skip, though.

Translations:

Move away from those bushes and drop that weapon! I do not know where you got it, but drop it! Right now, you damned Frenchman!

Why don't you come and make me.

NOW, MISS ROUSSEAU! GUARDS! GUARDS!!