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Wolverine: "1919"

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As soon as she mentioned her chest, Logan looked to it. He didn't want to lie, it was noticeable. The outline of her body without a doubt indicating that she was a female underneath the uniform of a German man. It would have been OK if they weren't in an area surrounded by soldiers, but this new problem wasn't one that he wanted. What was she supposed to do? Keep turning around so her back was always to the enemy? Logan was starting to think that just giving her some civilian clothes might have been a better idea, but then the Germans would have been wondering why he -- a German soldier -- was wandering around with a female. Especially considering that at the moment, they were missing one female from their camp. Surely by now, they would have known she was missing. Maybe that was why there was such a presence here?

"Just... try the best you can." Was all he could say, heading up the path towards the front door of Szymanski's farmhouse. His knuckles hit against the door a couple of times, and the Canadian waited for an answer. "I ain't gonna be happy if he's sittin' on the other side of this door with a shotgun in his hand." He growled, knocking a couple of times ago but to no response. Was he even in? Surely they hadn't come all the way down to this farm and the guy wasn't even in?

Circling round to the rear side of the house, Logan frowned as he caught a glance of the opened door. Investigating further, it became more apparent that something had happened here. The place had been destroyed by the hands of German soldiers looking for something. Everything was somewhere it shouldn't have been. Ornaments were lying on the floor, drawers were opened and their contents ransacked, rugs had been over-turned in search of trap doors and cupboards were destroyed.
Upstairs -- the same story. What had they been looking for? Had they found it? And where was Szymanski? There wasn't any sign of blood, so if he had been caught in the chaos then he was still alive. Logan growled, kicking a box across the bedroom. "Great. Another dead end." He sat on the edge of the bed and removed his helmet, pushing his fingers through his hair.
 
With a nod, she pulled the jacket tighter, flattening her chest a bit more before putting her arms down to clamp down on the fabric, keeping her chest flatter than normal. She really had to keep up her pace, and last night, it had seemed much easier. Maybe that was because she didn't feel dozens of German soldiers staring at her. Whether they were really staring, she didn't know; she was too scared to actually look. She just moved quickly about a step behind Jim, laughing slightly as he made his statement about the gun. Well, at least this time she'd know he wasn't dead. Although, it probably wouldn't be the greatest thing, since it sure as hell would have attracted the German soldiers.

She followed as he ran around back, the girl following him right inside before stopping in the doorway. Fuck, this wasn't good. The place was trashed, and she figured the guy they were looking for was dead as a door nail. When Jim went upstairs, she stayed downstairs, trying to find anything she could use to flatten her chest. She finally found some cloth, and she unbuttoned her jacket slowly before seeing soldiers walk by the window. They didn't notice anything, but it was enough to send the girl scurrying upstairs towards the Corporal. She saw the look on his face, and she sighed, closing the jacket and sitting down next to him before leaning forwards.

"We'll find it."
She said softly, the girl tossing her helmet aside gently before leaning her head on his shoulder. If he was having doubts, what else was there to say. Maybe they wouldn't get it. Maybe they'd die out here. She sighed softly, looking up at him before patting his leg gently and reassuringly. She didn't know what to say. The same worries were going through her head at the moment. She stopped up and let her jacket slip off her small frame, grabbing the cloth and starting to bind it tightly, a frown on her face as she dealt with the pain of it. However, just for a brief second, he'd be able to see her entire upper half bare. She finally got the jacket back on, taking a deep breath before sitting back down next to him.
"So, what? Do we just go back to Major Low and tell him the guy's gone?"
 
Her head on his shoulder brought a strange sense of comfort, as well as encouragement to continue the mission. He may have been doing this because he that's what he was told, but he was also doing this because there was a young woman's life at stake. She was trusting him to help her, and he was her only help. She'd be lost without him in this strange country, as it appeared as thought Major Low was more interested in the package and sending him on wild goose chases than getting her back home. Before long, though, she was away from and fixing her body shape so it looked a little more masculine. Just a bit.

"Women... you're always putting your bodies through some kind of discomfort, huh? If it's not corsets to keep your waist tiny, you're wrapping cloths around your breasts so you can pass yourself off for soldiers." Wolverine spoke, giving a small laugh again and shaking his head. That brief second was all he needed to see, although he didn't just stare at the picture like some lust-fueled lonely man. Standing up, he walked to the window and looked down at the hundred or so soldiers walking around the fields. "They're lookin' for something. The way they're wading through the fields." When he scrunched his eyes up to try and focus in on a man that was digging, Wolverine's ears suddenly heard the sound of footsteps ascending the staircase.

"Get under the bed... hurry!" He whispered to Marla in a snapping voice, hiding against the wall next to the door in case they came in here and he had to use his claws to shut them up. Underneath the double bed, though, was something the German invaders hadn't found. A small, metal box. And inside -- was exactly what they were looking for. Preparing himself, Logan listened as the voices of them men faded away back downstairs, and a loud slam of the front door closing. Safe, for now.
 
With a smile, she shook her head and looked over at him, laughing softly before nodding.
"I won't even wear one of those things. I enjoy breathing far too much."
She sat on the edge of the bed, slowly swinging her legs back and forth for a few moments as she watched him look out the window. As he said they were looking for something, she frowned, leaning her head into her hands gently. What were they going to do? The soldiers in the field were making her edgy, but then something sent her adrenaline through her veins like a flame to gasoline.

Marla quickly scurried underneath the bed, banging her forehead off something sharp and letting out a soft breath of pain. She touched her forehead, feeling the hot, sticky wetness that clung to her skin as she mentally scolded herself for being so clumsy. Wait... what the hell did she bang her head off of? She pulled the cold, metal box towards her, squinting to try and see through the darkness and figure out what it was. After another minute though, she heard the front door slam, and figured that everything was clear for the moment. She had never seen anyones boots come into the room, and Jim hadn't moved at all. The girl pulled herself out from under the bed, a droplet of blood dripping down her forehead as she reached back under the bed and pulled out the box.

"You think they missed this when they did their little raid? It was pressed against the wall, and then briefly, my head."
She said, laughing as she reached up and wiped the blood off of her face, exposing the pretty small nick she had gotten from it. She walked over to the Corporal and held it out, not knowing if he wanted to check it out or not. From where it was, she knew the German's hadn't found it, and also knew that whoever had put it there didn't want them to find it.
 
Logan raised an eyebrow when she appeared from underneath the bed holding a box. As well as the small wound on her forehead which had been caused by said-box. He took it from her hands and was glad that it wasn't locked by anything that required a key. That was the last of their worries. Sitting back down on the bed, be crossed his legs and placed the rectangular piece of metal next to him, flipping open the lid and looking at the contents. Pieces of paper. But they were more than just useless scribbles. They were official documents, or at least -- that's what they appeared to be at first glance. But they were forgeries. Fakes. Not the real deal. But a German checkpoint guard wasn't going to know that. It had the signature of a General Dietrich Schneider, a name he had known from before. He ignored the thought of the Bavarian, and a small smile crept to his lips as he found what they were looking for.

"Jackpot. Checkpoint papers for the castle." He tucked the folded document in to his inside jacket pocket, and closed the tin back up. "Better take this with us. Some of the stuff could come in handy. Here. You take it." He thrusted it back in to her hands, and opened the door to the bedroom. The quicker they got out of this farm, the better. Logan was good at taking down Germans, but with this amount and keeping one eye on Marla, it wasn't going to be so easy. The only thing he had going for him was they were well spread out, and the long grass and fields worked wonders for cover. Hiding and pouncing, dragging his prey down in to the thickness. He was a predator. A panther. The Wolverine.

"Keep a bit of distance. I'm gonna check the coast is clear." He wasn't meaning for her to hide away upstairs while he got to the truck, he still wanted her to follow him until they were safe behind the wheel of the vehicle. Until then, they were walking in to an unknown. Logan could smell Germans close-by, but none of them were in the house. Leaving the building was another story. It didn't take long for some soldier to realise that he'd forgotten to put his helmet back on.

"<Hold it right there!>" Snapped the Officer (in German), approaching him with his revolver in his hand. "<What kind of hair is that, soldier? Who the hell let you run around with that on your head?>" Asked the man, who was beginning to get on Jim's nerves. He stood inches from the Canadian.

"<Let me show you what I use to cut it!>" Logan growled, forcing his right first against the German's stomach and unleashing his sharp, bone claws through gut and flesh. With his claws still lodged in his body, Jim looked back to the young pilot and threw the keys. He didn't care if she couldn't drive. Soldiers were beginning to swarm towards them. They didn't have much time! "Marla. Get to the truck. Now!"
 
Marla just stood and watched, somewhat proud of herself for finding the box. Granted, if he hadn't ordered her under the bed, it'd still be there collecting dust. And thanks to that, they had what they needed and were one step closer to getting her home. She took the box when he pushed it back into her arms, the girl grabbing her helmet and putting it on herself before heading down the stairs slowly behind him. As they went outside, she felt her stomach drop at the amount of soldiers. She had a feeling that when they had gone in, they had attracted the soldiers that had come inside, and that they were still watching her. Plus, she couldn't breath very well with the cloth on; it didn't feel as comfortable as the gauze had, not that that had felt too great either. The way he walked though made her smile. Such purpose. He wasn't just messing around, and it was kind attractive. And kind of funny.

She always stayed about ten or eleven feet behind him, the box held on the side of her like nothing was wrong. Like she was supposed to have it. However, when she heard the shouting in German, she felt her heart stop, the girl looking wide eyed as she immediately froze up. She wanted to walk. Fuck, everything in her was telling her to take off running. But it felt like her feet were being held to the ground. She was terrified. Certainly, if they doubted him, they'd see that the shorter "man" behind him wasn't a man at all. In all honesty, she hadn't noticed he had left without the helmet on, otherwise she would have said something to him. But everything had seemed so wonderful that she didn't bother to think that they were surrounded by the enemy. And she couldn't help but curse Major Low in the back of her mind, seeing as she wasn't very trusting of him. And it wasn't even because of the fact he shot Jim, although it didn't help. She didn't know why he wasn't more involved in the rescue, or the recovery of these things. Half of her thought he was just setting them up, but she had to give him the benefit of the doubt and just trust him.

Jim's voice brought her instantly back to reality, the girl catching the keys as she looked at him strangely. Not for what he said, but the because he had punched the soldier in the stomach. Well, thats what she thought he had done, anyways. She also didn't understand why the man had a look on his face like he had been eviscerated. She took off, and at that point, one thing was very clear. She was fast. Marla jumped over a branch that had fallen off a tree, avoiding the swarming German soldiers before jumping into the truck. Unfortunately, her thigh scraped against something when she got in, tearing her pants and leaving a nice little gash in her leg.
"Fuck. Uh... okay, think."
She fumbled with the keys for a moment as she slammed the door and tossed the box onto the seat next to her, starting the truck and then staring at the controls. She had to calm down, and quickly.
'Okay, think. You've flown planes, you can drive a truck. Ignition on. Put it into gear and...'
She let out a soft squeal as the truck lurched forwards, the girl instantly pressing down the gas and letting the vehicle spin back around towards Jim. She wasn't leaving without him, and she sure as hell wasn't going to sit in the truck and wait for him to finish. The girl made it over to him within a minute, slamming on the brakes and sending her head back into the headrest hard enough to make her let out a soft breath of air.
"Get the fuck in here!"
She shouted at him, shoving the box aside before pulling out her gun. SHe didn't want to shoot anyone just yet, but if they came anywhere near the truck, or Jim, she would shoot without giving it another thought.
 
So far, his secret claws hiding away inside of his arms had gone unnoticed by Marla. By the time he removed them from the body of the German, she was already running round the building to get the truck for him. He didn't blame her if she returned to Henry without him, but knew she wouldn't. They had got too far in to this adventure to start leaving the other behind. So he wasn't really surprised when the roar of the engine began to sound louder as she approached. By this point, Wolverine was becoming swarmed with German troops. Albeit, the majority of them had bolt-action rifles that allowed one shot before having to manually force another bullet in to the chamber. And they weren't exactly great shots either. A couple of near-scrapes, and a bullet to the left arm didn't seem to effect Jim's performance at all.

Another young boy came close to him, and the same set of claws scraped against the skin of his neck, sending an eruption of blood in front of him, falling to his knees and attempting to seal the wound to no success. As the boy fell, Logan caught the long rifle and picked some ammo cartridges from the soldier's belt, just in time to hold the rifle by it's tip and swinging the stock like a baseball bat against the skull of another enemy soldier. It cracked against bone, and almost knocked him flying. That's when Marla screamed, and he realised the truck was now here. Escaping to the vehicle, Jim climbed in to the back, rather than in the passenger's seat. "Go! And don't stop 'til we get to Henry!" The Canadian yelled, pocketing the few clips of ammunition he had stolen, sitting on the floor with his back to the side of the truck. As it began to pull away, he took off his jacket and growled at the mess of his arm. Using his right fingers, he began rummaging around inside of his arm to find the bullet that hadn't went all the way through. Of course it was nasty, although because there was no window or way of seeing what he was doing from the driver's cabin, Marla didn't know his pain.

Luckily, the Germans didn't give chase. He expected them to, it was why he'd grabbed the rifle and as much ammunition as he could find at short notice. But no vehicles or motorcycles came after them. Wiping some sweat away from his face, Logan closed his eyes and relaxed. It'd been a while since he slept -- excluding those long hours that he was coming back to life. You'd think he'd return fresh as a daisy, but in fact it absolutely knackered him.

He was awoken by gun-fire. And the stench of burning. It filled his nostrils so much it was all he could smell. "What's going on out there?" The Canadian asked, getting to his feet and holding on to the handrail hanging from the soft-top ceiling to keep his feet steady as they drove over some bumpy ground. Up ahead, they had reached Henry's house. No longer was it the quiet, peaceful retreat that they had stumbled across the previous day.

It was a war zone.

A platoon of soldiers -- maybe two -- had set the place on fire. Burning grass, wood, the orange flames prancing in fluttered unison, a replication of the war. The Germans had arrived in a pair of trucks similar to the one that Wolverine and Marla had arrived in. They all kept their distance, hiding behind anything they could while they fired at the house with their rifles and revolvers. Henry was fighting back, appearing at the window from time to time and returning bullets in their directions. It sounded like he had... some kind of machine gun in there. The constant repetition -- which, while slow -- didn't stop. A brief pause to reload, before ejecting lead at everything in the field. The entire mission was falling apart.
 
Marla stomped back on the gas pedal, the tires spinning rapidly in the dirt and kicking up dust before it finally took off. The girl, still high off the adrenaline going through her, smiled and laughed softly as the truck sped away from the soldiers. And the best part was that they didn't follow them! However, as she drove, her leg started to hurt, and when she looked down, she noticed she had bled out quite a bit from the gash in her leg. Slowly, she held the steering wheel in place with her good knee, ripping a piece of cloth off her binding and tying it around the wound tightly. One, to make sure it stopped bleeding, and two, so she didn't reopen it. Plus, the pressure made the throbbing pain stop, and let her concentrate more on the road. She couldn't believe that he trusted her to drive with him in the back, probably resting, after knowing that she crashed a plane. Granted, it wasn't her fault, but he didn't know that. She tossed the helmet down onto the seat, along with her gun as she ran a hand back through her dark hair slowly, happy that for the next little while, there would be peace and silence for once.

However, as they got closer and closer to Major Low's cabin, she noticed something. It wasn't quiet anymore, and in a few miles, it would be clear why. Burnt air surrounded them, the girl putting one hand over her mouth and nose to try and block out some of the smell. Gunshots filled the air, and as she heard the Corporal yell from the back, she shook her head and muttered under her breath softly.
"Nothing good..."
She watched the house burn away, flames licking up the sides of it before she swore loudly and put the truck into park. They were far enough away that the soldiers were still too preoccupied with Henry's constant firing that they weren't to concerned with the new truck. Marla leaned out the window of the truck, resting her waist on the door as she looked at him and smirked slightly.

"You better get ready. I'm going to get us over there, and then they're going to start firing at us."
She knew he already knew that the second they got over there, there would be problems, but she wanted to make sure. Plus, she wanted to see if he was okay after the fight he had just had. And as usual, there wasn't a scratch on him. She laughed slightly, slipping back in the cab of the truck before throwing it into drive, grabbing the gun she had put down on the seat next to her as she drove towards the group of soldiers. As she put the truck in park, she heard gunfire, and immediately slid down under the steering wheel, and just in time. A bullet shattered the windshield, the girl's eyes widening as glass sprayed into the inside of the cab. However, a smile came to her face after a moment, and she grabbed the extra jacket so she could use it to brush the glass off the seat. Once she had, she knew what she was going to do.

Quickly, the girl shot up from under the dashboard, letting off two or three rounds in the direction of the soldiers and, to her amazement, hitting one of them. Whether or not he was down for good, she didn't know, since she had ducked back down and grabbed her helmet. She shoved the thing back on, pulling the ammunition out from under the seat and opening the box. She wasn't going to waste time trying to find that when she needed to reload. Oh, no. She'd get it ready now so that when the time came, she could get right back to shooting as quickly as possible.
"Jim! What the hell are we supposed to do?"
She shouted at him, moving back to the window to start firing at the enemy once again, this time until she ran out of bullets. For the first time, she was able to shoot a gun without screaming and dropping it, and it was a great feeling. Well, it would have been if she hadn't been so busy trying to keep herself alive at the moment.
 
Logan quickly counted around twenty German soldiers, with an unknown number lying on the grass -- either injured or dead. This wasn't good, the last thing they needed was for the army garrison to hear about this, and start sending more troops. Why were they here? Had someone lead them here? Had Henry finally given away his position, or was it just a coincidence that they suddenly stumbled across a lot of maps and other pieces of equipment that he shouldn't have. He was dressed in a German uniform and could speak perfect German -- how could he possibly have got himself caught?

Well, he hadn't been caught. Because he was fighting them, and doing a good job at it. Unfortunate for him, the fire was starting to grow and soon, the house was going to be too dangerous to stay in. He'd have to escape, and to do that would require leaving himself as an open target for rifles and revolvers to fire at. "Just keep firing. We've got them distracted, they're fightin' two sides now." By this point, Logan had the long rifle he had stolen in his hands, fully loaded with five bullets. He got down on one knee and aimed at the nearest soldier, striking him in the shoulder with lead. Lowering the weapon, he loaded another bullet in to the chamber and aimed again, this time missing. He grunted, and repeated the action. Another inaccurate shot. To hell with this, he thought, disappearing from the truck.

Henry Low pressed his back to the walls of the house, and ejected the magazine, watching it hit the floor with a thud. On the table next to the window were rectangular boxes, black in colour, and each one holding thirty-four bullets inside. He was using a new kind of weapon developed in a weapons factory in Eastern Prussia, a machine gun that didn't need two or three men to hold and mount it. A bloody magnificent invention, as he called it. Slamming a new cartridge in to the underside of the barrel, he returned to firing from his previous position in front the of the window and took out a handful of soldiers that had tried to run towards the house whilst he reloaded. The three of them collapsed in to a bloody heap, one of them still alive but unable to move.

There was an extra truck that had now appeared, but there was no sign of any reinforcements coming out the back. He hoped to hell that it was Logan and Marla, and when he saw a glimpse of the Canadian soldier he breathed a sharp, quick, almost invisible sigh of relief. Backup. The good kind! As a couple of bullets came crashing through the gap where there had once been glass, Henry ducked and nearly cursed out loud when a snap of fire nipped his fingers. There was too much smoke. He was beginning to cough.

Wolverine was fast. He had did this kind of thing a hundred times before. It was what he did best. Claws out -- the full length of eleven inches -- stabbing and slicing German meat. The rifles were just too slow to use effectively at this close-range, when you had a growling, raging beast sprinting towards you. One after the other, dead. The murder count well-exceeded double figures, and he was too busy to wonder what Marla might be thinking. Seeing this man, her saviour, butchering the enemy with a blades that appeared to come out... of his arms?

With the platoon completely decimated, Jim ran inside to rescue the Englishman. He was nearly unconscious, the dangerous fumes filling his lungs. He was only semi-aware that he was being carried out of the house, until he muttered to Logan to stop and let him take something with him. Stuttering to his feet, Henry sighed as the map on the table had been burned to uselessness, but a box underneath the desk was still in one piece. Also picking up the ammunition next to the window, he brought the box out and collapsed next to it, watching in horror as his home slowly burned to the ground.
 
Marla continued the process over and over again. Shooting until the gun ran out of ammunition, ducking back down, hastily reloading the chamber, and then getting back up to shoot. However, at one point, the bullets stopped flying her way, giving her enough time to fill her pockets with bullets and shove the truck door open. She slid out, taking aim and then...
".... What the fuck...."
Without another word, the girl scrambled back into the cab of the truck, staying on the floor of it as she shut her eyes. Everything was starting to make sense, well, sort of. How he had gotten to her without anyone shooting. Why every body that was in the prison she had been kept in had three, parallel holes that had seeming killed them. Why he didn't have a gun. Her head was spinning, and she didn't know what to think anymore. Here he was, the man who had rescued her and kept her out of harms way, slashing and cutting at the enemies flesh like it was completely normal.

However, after a few minutes went by, she didn't hear anything else happening outside, and slowly slinked out of the cab and landed on her feet. She was a little bit banged up; the glass had cut her up a little bit despite her efforts, and when she looked around, all there was outside was dead bodies. The girl slowly walked towards them, only to see Jim carrying out Major Low and for him the collapse into the dirt. She quickly ran over to them, well, limped, kneeling down slightly as she pulled Major Low up into her lap slightly so that he was propped up. She then pulled him back from the house a little bit, using all of her strength before looking up at Jim with wide eyes. She couldn't bring herself to say anything to him though, only wiped a little bit of soot of the Major's forehead before patting his chest gently.
"You did good, guy. Just rest for a few minutes."

Marla herself fell backwards onto her back, laying there gently as she shut her eyes and let the sound of burning embers fill her ears. She still didn't know how to address the Corporal. After all, she had just watched claws shoot out of his hands, and for him to use them as weapons. Well, she knew at some point she'd have to speak to him, but right now.... right now she couldn't even keep her thoughts straight. Her chest heaved up and down out of anxiety, the girl wiping her eyes of dirt and sweat before moving out from under Henry. She got to her feet, using her good leg to hold most of her weight as she watched the house collapse in out itself.
"We're going to need a new truck."

Without another word, she walked back towards the bodies, starting to rifle through their pockets until she finally found what she was looking for. Another set of keys. Which truck it was to, she didn't know, but it didn't matter just yet. She was not going anywhere right now. She still was far too confused about this whole thing. She slowly moved back towards Jim, standing in front of him as she grabbed his hand and looked at the blood soaked skin around his knuckles.
"So, when you said you're hands were your weapons.... you weren't just being crazy, huh?"
She used her sleeve and wiped off some of the blood, looking up at him for a moment before letting his hand drop. This whole thing was so strange. I mean, what kind of person had claws? Well, clearly a mutant would, and clearly he was one. Then, the girl dropped to her knees, wincing at the cut on her leg before looking at Major Low with a smile.
"I didn't trust you before... but after that... I'm pretty sure you're on our side."
 
Wolverine could understand if she was a little uneasy around him, at least with his apparent knack for surprising her with various unusual abilities. First, it was the whole coming back from the dead thing, which was understandably freaky enough. The idea of someone being shot in the head, then getting up like nothing had happened was something that writers dreamed about in their mad ramblings of a fictional story. Then came the bones that pierced through the skin of his knuckles, three in each arm. Jumping around, slashing throats and stabbing guts. Blood and intestines going everywhere, and absolutely no guilt or hesitation about it at all. He murdered like he were a seasoned pro.

Henry smiled, putting a brave face on the fact that his house was now no longer inhabitable. Unless he wanted to sleep in a burned-out wreck with no roof, no walls and a very uncomfortable and dirty floor. At least he got the box out, that was the main thing. Sure, the map was a kick in the balls. He had spent over a year creating that map, doing recon missions around the area and marking what he saw. It had been an important help in knowing where enemy garrisons were, and various other places of interest. Oh dear. Guess he was going to have to make another one. But he was a little concerned at the Germans showing up. It wasn't like a couple of men wandered down the road and thought about knocking on the door to see who was inside. It was a calculated move -- a couple of squads, knowing what they were doing. Who spoke?

"Of course I'm on your side. I could have radioed back to London months ago and told them that you'd died in the plane crash, or executed you right on the spot." He replied, wiping away some of the dirtiness that had accumulated from the fire, and walking over to the box. Henry didn't want to boast that her life had been in his hands, that he could have chosen to skip her safety and rescue for the box alone. "I trust you got everything you wanted from Szymanski?" The Englishman asked, raising his eyebrows but Logan's face told a different story. In fact, neither the Canadian or the American needed to say anything. "I see."

"But we got your papers."

Henry sighed just a little, having a moment to think about the fate of Szymanski. He was a good friend, someone he could trust, which was a very rare thing around these parts. He couldn't exactly just go up to anyone and start discussing super secret English plans. "Well. I guess we owe him one last thanks." His attention turned to the box that he had dragged out. "In here, is my secret weapons. This is what's going to help us get through that castle and find either the package... or Marla's Lieutenant." Kicking open the box, the lid sprung open and inside were a pair of guns similar to the one he had been firing. The Major picked up his own, and held it in front of him with his hands in the firing position.

"I'm sure you're both very familiar with the concept of the automatic machine gun. Miss Hunt, catch!" Henry gently tossed the weapon towards her, and right away she would notice the weight of it. For someone as small as herself, she'd probably have some difficulty in using it. But in close-quarters combat like the interior of a castle corridor, it was one of two things that were going to keep her alive. The other being Wolverine, of course. "The Germans call this the Maschinenpistole 20, or MP20 for short. It's a brand new weapon, the Western countries have never seen anything like it. In fact it's so new, these are just the prototypes. They don't expect to go in to mass-production until next year. It takes all the advantages of the machine guns you're used to on your aircraft..." He looked at Marla, then turned to Jim. "...And the guns those bastards used to mow down soldiers in no man's land... and combines it with something able to be used by a single soldier. Thirty-four bullets in the magazine, it goes underneath, like this." By now, he'd picked up one of the spare MP20, and was showing Marla how to reload the gun and how to hold it for best support. One hand on the handle, one on the vertical magazine at the front of the weapon.

"Fill your pockets and ammo belts with as many boxes as you can." There must have been about 30-40 magazines in the crate. "They don't go through bullets as fast as your normal MGs, but just remember to take your finger off the trigger from time to time." By this point, Logan had picked up the other gun and was in two minds on whether to stick to his claws, or change strategy to a weapon. He decided on bringing it along anyway. It was then that Henry noticed Marla appeared to be struggling with one leg. "Marla. You alright?"
 
"Oh, the box!"
Marla exclaimed as Jim mentioned the papers, the girl hurrying off towards the beat up truck before swinging the door open and leaning inside of it. She scrambled around for a minute, her legs hanging out the door as she reached and grabbed the tin box. She didn't know what else was inside it, but she did know that Jim had told her to take it, and so she wasn't going to leave it behind. She limped back over slowly, sitting down on the ground to try and take the pressure off her leg. She had a nice solid gash in her right thigh, and the cloth she had wrapped around it was now blood soaked, but it had done it's job. She was no longer bleeding, and the pain had reduced a great deal. But not enough to allow her to walk normally so no one would notice like she wanted.

As Henry said her name, she immediately turned her head, catching the weapon in both hands before getting to her feet. She looked at the gun carefully, turning it over in her hands as she listened to him carefully. This thing was incredible, but pretty heavy. Lucky for Marla, however, no matter how tired she got, she wouldn't put it down unless they were safe. She was more worried about the kick back than anything else, honestly. She laughed slightly as he mentioned it had all the advantages as the gun on her plane, the girl shook her head before speaking softly.
"Except for, you know, having to carry it and the kickback."
She mimicked his movements as he reloaded the weapon to teach her, the girl holding it like he said to before looking over at Jim. The look on his face was sort of amusing, and it was clear he was thinking about something. Probably something about the weapon, since that was what his attention was on.

However, when her leg was mentioned, a flash of disappointment went across her face, the girl nodding before looking down.
"Yeah, I'll be fine. When we were at the farmhouse, we got surrounded, and when I ran to go start the truck, I slammed my leg into the side of the cab. It's nothing though."
Meanwhile though, she was adjusting the rag so that no one could see the cut, and realized that it was actually a semi serious injury. Not enough to kill or maim her, but enough to put her in a substantial amount of pain. The girl glanced up at both the Major and Corporal, standing up straight and trying to portray that tough soldier act that really wasn't fooling anybody. Sure, she was tough to be able to withstand as much as she had, but everyone here, including herself, knew that she should have never been out here in the first place. That no matter what she wanted to think, she was not strong, brave, or tough enough to fight in a war the way she wanted to be able to. She immediately looked away from both of the men, kneeling down and wincing slightly as she started to fill her pockets with the magazines until she couldn't fit anything else in them. The girl then stood up, putting the gun back to lean against her shoulder as she spun the keys for the truck around one of her fingers idly.
"So, where are we going now? And who's driving?"
She asked, wanting to bring attention off of her leg, only so she didn't have to think about the pain. The girl could have driven, but she was sure keeping her right leg flexed to keep the gas pedal down would wear on her wound and pain tolerance, so she didn't even want to risk it.
 
"I'm driving." Henry declared, taking the keys from Marla and walking towards the car. Each of them now had the same submachine gun, with as much ammo as all three could. Logan had been hesitant in taking any, so his pockets remained nearly empty. If he needed some ammo, he knew where he'd turn to. Claws.
The Canadian wanted to tell Marla to hide, but where would she hide? This had been the best hideout they had, and now it was burned to the ground -- surrounded by dead Germans. This meant the mission had to be done quick, otherwise the alarm would be raised and this little castle of theirs would eventually turn in to some super-German stronghold. And it didn't help that there were very few exits, other than the small airfield behind it. That's where Marla was going to come in handy, although she didn't know it yet. And neither did Logan, in fact. Henry was the only person with that little escape plan. Wolverine's were usually just slicing his way back through the way he came.

The engine started, and Henry placed his weapon on the passenger seat next to him. As well as that, the tin box with all the various documents that they'd need. The credentials, the reason for wanting inside the castle. They must have got to Szymanski somehow, interrogated him or maybe the Polak had slipped up somewhere. Because the Englishman sure as hell knew he didn't. "You two sit in the back, if I've to try and bluff my way in here then the last thing I need is Mr. Hyde and a soldier with a pair of breasts next to me."

Logan didn't care to reply with any kind of insult of his own, just growling and threatening the man with his claws. They always seemed to put a bit of terror in a man's eyes. He then helped Marla climb in to the back of the truck so she didn't have to put any kind of pressure on to her leg. It looked bad, it needed fixed, but they didn't have enough time, surely? The truck didn't waste any time in driving off, and the trio were on their way. Wolverine sat with his back against the side wall, one leg stretched out with the other bent upwards at the knee. "Tell me if you can't do this, because I ain't havin' someone slowing me down, darlin'. If you're hurt, then we'll find you somewhere to hide." He knew it sounded harsh and cold, but he never did like working in a team. He was always a loner, someone that worked best knowing that no one else could slip up or let him down. An injured woman who'd never held a heavy gun like that before was a liability, and although it was selfish, he was also doing it for her own good.
 
"You try getting this cloth tighter around my chest, and then we can talk."
The girl muttered, walking towards the back of the truck and keep her weight mostly off her bad leg. She just wanted to rest it for a little while, so that when she needed to, she'd be able to walk on it with a little bit less pain. She was pretty sure they had at least a few hours in the truck, and so it wouldn't be too much of a problem when they go to the castle. Well, at least that's what she was telling herself. Marla helped to pull herself into the back, thanking Jim softly before moving to the side and sitting down on the bench. The girl then moved her bad leg up before laying back and putting the gun on her stomach gently. She gasped as the truck took off, glancing up at him as he started speaking before laughing slightly.

"You give me way too little credit. I survived a plane crash, didn't I? I had worse cuts on me than this thing. Yeah, it hurts, but I'll get over it."
Marla said while unbuttoning the first few buttons on her jacket, the girl reaching in and untying the cloth before taking it off with a sigh. Since they were in back, she didn't have to keep up her appearance of a young male soldier up. She then tore off the makeshift leg bandage, tossing it out the back of the truck before starting to, more carefully, wrap another bit of the cloth that had been around her chest around the wound. Once that was done, she laid back down, looking over at him again before putting one arm under her head gently.
"Does it hurt?"
She asked bluntly, referring to his claws as she let her eyes shut and her body relax against the bench gently. It felt nice to not have to worry about the enemy coming up on her with her eyes shut. If there was trouble, she'd know before any one got near enough to hurt her.

The girl crossed her wounded leg over her good one, her finger tips tracing over the metal of the gun as she took several deep breaths. Her mind moved back to her injuries, a smile coming to her lips as she sighed softly. They were bad, but nothing compared to what they could have been. She had needed stitches on her scalp, shoulder blade, and lower back. Her arm had been broken, and irony of it all was that her enemy had to take care of her so that they could find out what they needed to know. So for three or four months, they had made sure she had a bit of food and water, something to keep her from getting frost bite, and medical care until she was healed. Then she had to deal with the torture, which as far as she was concerned, wasn't as bad as the crash. The crash had meant failure, where as the beating meant she was being a good soldier, so it wasn't as big of a deal to her.
"And besides, where would I hide?"
 
He didn't reply when she asked if it hurt when he used his claws. She was curious about a lot of things, from the way she poked his face when he first returned from the dead to asking about things. To be fair, she was young, and he was displaying feats that weren't displayed by a normal man. She'd guessed right from almost the word go when he was told by Marla that he wasn't like the other soldiers. But all he did when she spoke to him was rest his head back against the truck's side and closed his eyes.

"You can hide anywhere if you put your mind to it. Hell, I could hide in a couple of inches of grass and you wouldn't even know I was there." Yeah, and when Wolverine hid it was usually only for one reason -- a surprise attack. Very rarely did he actually go on the defensive. By that point, he had fallen asleep. Just a short nap, to rebuild the energy levels he was going to need to get through the next few hours. They had a chance, and if everything up to this point was correct, then the package should be there. Or at the very least, Stanger should be at the castle, and Wolverine would sure as hell find out from the German where he was keeping it hidden.

About half-an-hour in to his sleep, Logan grumbled a few things and suddenly the claws on his left hand -- which rested on his bent knee -- sprung out without warning. The small spots of blood as it pierced the skin, before very slowly retreating back in to their holes. Clearly, his dreams weren't peaceful ones.
His slumber was interrupted when Henry's voice could be heard from the front of the truck. "The castle's up ahead!" He sung, indicating they should get ready. Logan wiped some sleep from his eyes and waited in the back quietly, saying nothing with his mouth but telling her to relax with his eyes.
 
Marla had drifted in and out for awhile, not really falling asleep but not at all focused or ready. She was thinking about what it would be like after she got home. It was strange to think about, honestly. After all, she had spent the better part of a year not seeing the outside world, and it was clear when you looked at her that she was apprehensive about the whole mission at this point. SHe had already failed once, who said she wouldn't fail again? Sure, now Jim was here and could probably keep her safe, but that didn't mean she wouldn't screw up the entire thing. She thought about his words, about how she could hide anywhere if she put her mind to it. It was funny in a way, but she knew he was right about it, and that her size could be an advantage. Sure, she was short and lithe; not nearly the ideal picture of a soldier. But, that gave her an opportunity that most didn't have. Being able to crawl into small spaces and hide if she needed to. Although, she was too stubborn to try and hide while everyone else fought.

Henry's voice startled her, the girl instantly shooting up as she took a deep breath, looking around panicked before she finally relaxed. There had been many times that she had been startled awake by the German guards, so now it was instant for her to shoot up and get ready for whatever would happen. She ran a hand back through her hair slowly, glancing over at Jim for words of encouragement. But he didn't speak, only looked at her in a way that told her not to freak out the way she wanted to. Slowly, she inched back towards the cab of the truck, wanting to be as far from the door as she could be. All she could see in her head was the back of the truck whipping open and the two of them being slaughtered like cattle.

Marla put her good leg on the ground, making sure she was ready to get to her feet if needed, while letting her other leg rest for another few moments. The look she gave Jim was an unsure one, one that told him that even though she was terrified, she wasn't going to back down and hide.
 
The truck's movement began to slow, the mechanism of the break in combination with Henry's foot pulling away from the acceleration pedal finally bringing it to a stop. Although Logan nor Marla could see anything, a couple of voices began to speak. The German sounds were a blur except for Henry's voice, trying to work it's magic to convince the men to let them in to the castle. Logan didn't like this; relying on someone else. He was always a man that took things in to his own hands, and made his own fortune and luck. If something bad happened, then it was down to his own errors. Putting his trust in Henry wasn't something he was comfortable with, and he quietly grinded his teeth together in preparation for the worst.

Footsteps. The stench of German approached the back of the truck, but Henry caught on and managed to convince them to return to the front of the truck. He made a joke, and they seemed to laugh. Maybe this was going to work after all. 'My papers?' The Englishman asked, fiddling around with the credentials that they had retrieved from his old friend's house. 'Got them all right here.' He handed them over and waited patiently, watching the castle guard scrutinizing the contents of what had been given to him.

'I cannot accept these.'

Henry's elbow leaned on where a window should have been on his driver's side, casually raising his eyebrows. 'Why not?'

'The code on the top... this is an old code!'

'That's what I've been given.' His heart began to jerk rapidly, he could almost feel it trying to break free through his chest.

The German shook his head. 'No. No. Get out of the truck... these papers are fake!'

Henry took a final breath, calming himself down and closing his eyes. The German repeated the order to exit the truck, and the Englishman opened his eyes with a slight nod. 'OK. OK.' His words returned to his native tongue. A hushed goodbye. Marla and Logan could hear it from the rear. 'Looks like the war's over for me, Jim. Why couldn't he just have taken the damn papers, huh?'

The Major's words were echoed by the sound of repeated gun-fire. The sub-machinegun rattled in his hands, slicing through the German guards while they fumbled to line up their own rifles. Finally, it was brought to a halt. Then everything went quiet except for the screams for an alarm. Logan was already half-way out of the truck, his bone claws at the ready. It was only a short distance to the castle, the checkpoint being about 100m away from the front door. 'You better be able to run, kid. Because we're about to have the entire German garrison on our backs.'
 
Marla could feel her heart start to race as she heard the Germans start to speak, her breathing growing shallow in a matter of seconds as she gripped the gun tighter. Her hands were shaking, and she shut her eyes tightly as she flashed back to the cold, stone cell she had spent the better part of her deployment in. The girl instinctually moved back more into the truck, pressing herself flat against the cab as she tried to calm her breathing enough to listen to what was going on. She heard the footsteps approach the back of the truck, and for a split second, she thought about taking the gun in her hands and just blowing her own head off. Hey, at least they couldn't kill her then, right? However, as laughter was heard outside the truck, she let out a silent sigh of relief, turning towards Jim as she pressed her ear against the cab. Good, they were falling for it so far. Now, all they needed to do was accept the papers and....

"Fuck...."
She whispered almost inaudibly, hands now trembling violently as the German's words sounded more forceful and angry. She had heard that tone too many times before to not know it. Sure, German sounded angry to begin with, but this.... this wasn't a good sign. They told him to get out, and already there were tears running down Marla's cheeks. She didn't need to wait to here what they were going to do. She knew. She managed to keep silent, well, until she heard Henry's voice. The made her let out a soft whimper, one hand slowly touching the cab of the truck as if to pet his shoulder in reassurance. The only thought that she tried to keep in her head, however, was the fact that it would be quick, and he wouldn't be in pain. They'd run through him like nothing else, and he'd be dead in a few seconds. No pain, no waiting. Just sweet, sweet oblivion.

As the gunshots rang out, the girl let out a single sob, although it was muffled almost entirely by the gunfire. Then, it went quiet, and the girl wiped her eyes slowly as she got to her feet. Luckily for her, adrenaline was coursing through her veins, so the pain in her leg had gone from a sharp, stabbing pain to a dull throb, which was easily manageable, even for her. She was right behind him, and as he said she better be able to run, she let out a soft laugh before nodding.
"Yeah, I can run. Just make sure if one of those bastards take me down, that you're the one who kills me. I'd hate to give them the satisfaction."
She spoke with anger in her voice, but from the look on her face, she wasn't all there at the moment. Sure, she had seen men get killed, but never ones she knew or had any attachment to. Well, except for Jim that one time, but he had come back, so that didn't really count. But the Major.... She hadn't trusted him at first, but now that he had given himself up for their mission, her mission, she couldn't do anything less than complete it, or die trying. She exited the back of the truck, jumping down and landing hard on her bad leg, but not letting the pain get to her at all. She then started sprinting towards the door, knowing full well that Jim would be okay on his own. And for a girl with a messed up leg, she was moving at quite the pace. About halfway to the door, she turned around, shooting off the firearm in her hands as she gritted her teeth and tried to aim the thing. The kickback was something alright, but after a few seconds she got the hang of it, and managed to take down a few Germans that were starting to show up behind them. She didn't know what she was going to do once she got to the door, but she did know that she had to get there, and fast. Her only hope was that Jim could keep up with her, that way she wouldn't have to worry about him.
 
Marla was doing well. The leg injury that they had found out about a little earlier at Low's house didn't appear to be slowing her down. Sure, her mobility was affected by it, and there was a slight limp in the way she ran, but other than that she was playing it brave. Sucking the pain up, and trying not to think about it. Good girl. The last thing they needed was for her to be unable to walk properly when bullets were flying from all different angles. His young companion also showed skill in firing the weapon, the blowback was definitely something that she wouldn't be used to -- hand-held weapons were a hell of a lot different than mounted ones.

Logan ran. He caught up with her easily, and as they approached the castle door, the Canadian finally pulled the weapon from his back and unclicked the safety, firing off nearly a complete magazine at the heavy wooden doors. A few bullets away from an empty cartridge, he slung it back to where he got it from and crashed through the now-weakened door -- claws first -- and tumbling in to the stone corridor behind it. He motioned for Marla to hurry up as he reloaded his submachine-gun and began mowing down the remaining Germans that gave chase.

The German guards inside the castle might have thought they were sneaking up on them -- but no one could sneak up on Logan. He spun round on the spot and pulled a grenade from his belt, arming the small, yet deadly, object and counting for a couple of seconds. 'Put your fingers over your ears, darlin.' He warned the pilot, throwing the grenade against one of the walls and bouncing round the corner of the corridor, destroying everything -- stone and bone -- as it exploded.

'We're gonna have to fight our way to the back of the castle.' Logan told her, 'Watch my ass. Any one tries to sneak up on us -- shoot him.' The long, bloody fight began as Logan lead the charge through anything that he came across. He knew they were getting close to the bounty when he caught the stench of Stanger.
 
When they go to the door of the castle, a look of sheer wonder came to her face as she looked up at the giant, stone building. She had never seen anything like this. Well, sure, she had flown over them before, but seeing them up close and personal was just... incredible. It actually made her forget for a moment what they were doing, the girl gently caressing the stone before she heard the gunfire. Right, they had to go, and now. Once the animalistic man had barreled through the door, she entered behind, albeit a bit more carefully and gingerly. At the motion to hurry up, she nodded, quickening her pace as she looked around slightly nervously. She didn't want anyone to get behind her. She was small, and already injured, and didn't need a german soldier to grab her anytime soon.

Marla gasped slightly as she was told to cover her ears, the girl's minimal training taking over as she ducked down and cradled her head in her hands. The explosion rocked the castle, well, at least the part they were in, and as the dust started to creep down the hall, she stood back up and shook her head slightly, trying to get the ringing out of her ears. As he told her to watch him, she smiled and nodded, letting him go forwards about ten feet before heading in behind him. He was the stronger one, so ti was natural he'd go first, but she didn't let him out of her sight. However, she didn't notice the men approaching from behind her. Or at least, that's what they thought. Once they were closing in, the girl spun around, weapon firing off into their bodies as she smiled a bit, smirking as one by one, the bodies hit the ground. She then turned back around, catching up to Jim once more before letting herself fall back.

"When and if we find Stanger, I'm shooting him. After everything he did to me, I deserve to be the one that kills the bastard."
She said adamantly, taking the few seconds of quiet to reload her gun and get it ready to be fired again. However, she knew they were getting close, mainly because the guards they encountered seemed a bit more frantic than before. They weren't toying with them, like they normally would have. Oh no, they were threatened. They knew that they were in danger of losing the package, and that they couldn't let that happen. But since they were so frantic, they weren't aiming properly or working together, which made it quite easy for the little beauty to take out whoever she needed. After a few more moments, however, a new thought popped into her mind. How in God's name were they going to get out of here after this?
 
The stink of the old stone-walls almost overpowered the sweat of the German officer. But not quite. A left. A right. Straight on. Left -- no, second left. This was where the Wolverine got his name. His fists were splattered with decaying blood, pieces of flesh and ripped clothing decorating his arms. There was only one thing on his mind right now. And it was fuelled by anger and adrenaline. He was unstoppable, he had no weakness. Wolverine could not be stopped.

"Arggghh!" He screamed, as a bullet stung his stomach, but the Canadian never went down. The German watched in horror as he continued, the young man's hands were too nervous to reload the one-shot rifle. He tried to back away but there was no where to go except for the ends of the wolf-man's claws. The healing process was already beginning, the feral rage working his ability's magic in to over-drive. Another piece of lead -- through the upper-left arm -- ripping through almost harmlessly. The six bone claws were anything but harmless. More and more men -- victims to the mass-murderer.

Up ahead, the two Germans had laid a trap. The castle was full of secrets, all powered by a complicated defense mechanism installed when it was first built those hundreds of years ago. Sergeant Erich Adler -- the young prison guard who had not been present during Wolverine's first massacre in the jail basement -- hoped that the whole thing still worked. 'Heinrich... tell me when they're passed the point, OK? We got to time this right...'

His nervous hand shuddered over the switch against the wall, crouching down and watching his friend keep an eye-out round the corner. Logan could smell them, he picked up speed to take them by surprise -- but -- !

The crash of metal hitting down against stone. In front of him was a gate. Iron. Rusting. But strong. A set of vertical bars like a prison cell. He hit it hard. Behind them... six-or-seven metres down the corridor, another set of metal bars was struggling to slam down. The bars were descending slowly, probably due to their age. It was too far away for Logan to roll under, but Marla was almost there --

'Kid! Run for it!'
 
Everything they were going through was playing through Marla's head silently, the constant screaming and gunfire becoming drowned out as she focused more on what they were doing, and less on the surrounding sounds. She was intent on getting to the inner most sanctions of the castle, finding Stanger, and making sure his death wasn't quick and painless. She wanted her revenge for all the nights she was beaten beyond belief, and then nursed back to health(if one could even call it that) for the soul purpose of making her well so they could torture her more. It was actually amazing that the girl was still sane after what she went through. She watched ahead as a bullet tore through Jim, not even wincing at the way the bullet ripped through and left the flesh and jacket around the wound jagged. Blood spattering out towards her, but never going far enough to hit her. She even found herself staring as the wounds started to heal.

The smell of the castle was nauseating, and if she had been any less focused or accustomed, she would have gotten ill from it. The damp, decaying smell the filled the air was just like that of the cell she had been in for so long, and she had grown used to it. After all, spending a year within the confines she had been held in had gotten her used to both the damp odor, and the coppery smell of fresh blood, which was also filling the air. As she watched the man charge through, she couldn't help but smile slightly, knowing that he was her best chance at being protected, but there was something else about the way he took charge that made her feel....

The sound of metal slamming down against stone snapped her out of her stupor, the girl just staring at the bars that had smashed down in front of Jim. She knew what this meant. They had caught them. Once again, she'd be a prisoner, and God knows what horrible things would happen this time. Then she heard Jim yell to run for it, and she stood there for half a second, confused as she glanced behind her. The second gate! It hadn't hit the floor yet. She could still get out. She took off, bombing the ten feet to the gate and sliding under it like a pro, showing no signs that she was injured at all. However, her leg started to bleed a bit, spotting the rag she had on it but luckily for her, the adrenaline rushing through her was enough to keep her from feeling it. The second gate crashed down, and it then dawned on her that he was stuck. She pressed herself to the bars, gripping them with one hand as she stared at the now caged Corporal.
"What the fuck am I supposed to do now?"
She asked softly, turning her back to the gate and holding her gun up, ready to mow down anyone who came at her. With Jim behind her, she knew he'd keep her safe for long enough to tell her what she was going to do, and how she was going to do it. After all, if she had gotten caught on the opposite side of the cage, she could reverse it. But from here, all she could do is retreat, get caught, or get killed. At least, that's what she thought.
 
Jim was angry with himself. He had ran head-first in to a trap that he should have seen coming, should have been able to detect. Yet the excitement of his bloody crusade had caused him to lose track of his senses. He knew there were Germans up ahead, but he didn't know what they were doing. Laying a trap, that's what they were doing. The soldier turned around quickly to look at Marla, who had managed to escape before the metal bars came down on her as well. Unfortunately, he had no way of getting out. He cursed a million-and-one swear words under his breath as he went to grab his submachine-gun. 'You OK?' He asked, spinning back round to keep an eye on the corridor in front of him. The weapon in his hands was loaded, and ready to shoot at anyone that came round the corner up ahead. So far, there was nothing.

'Did we get them?' Asked Erich.

'We got them.' Heinrich replied.

There was relief on the young German's face as his plan had worked. If it didn't, then that animal would have taken the two of them out next. For now, however, they were safe. But the plan wasn't finished yet -- they needed the American pilot back. Pulling something from his ammunition belt, Erich held in his hand a cylinder. On the top -- which he pulled off -- was a small hook which appeared to trigger something inside. 'Get your gas mask on.' He whispered to his comrade, throwing the object down the hallway and in to the cage. From the other side of the cage, came another one -- sliding across the stone flooring towards Marla's feet.

And as they rolled towards the two North American soldiers, a cloud of gas began to fill the air. Sleeping gas. And it didn't take long for it to effect Jim...
 
"Yeah, I'm fine. Besides the fact the your in there and I'm out here, I'm just fuckin' dandy."
She said softly, her dark hair covering her eyes slightly as she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. To be completely honest, she was terrified. She didn't have anywhere to escape to, she was small, and she didn't know what she was doing. But she did know this, if anyone dressed in anything other than american fatigues, she was putting a bunch of holes through them, no questions ask. She heard the murmurs of the German soldiers, the girl pressing her back harder into the gate as she shut her eyes for a brief moment. Flashes of being held captive flashed back through her head, the girl shaking it slightly to try and erase the memories for the time being.

As she heard the metal canister bounce down the hallway behind her, she whipped around, just in time to see the cloud of gas fill the make shift cage behind her. Another bounced towards her, but she wasn't dealing with it. She kicked it as hard as she could away from her, hoping that there'd be enough air to at least stay awake. That was when Jim went down. The girl pulled her jacket up over her nose and mouth, hoping that it would help. After all, she hadn't been trained(if you could even call what she had done training) about these canisters. Her only thought was that anything that came smoking down the hallway was something she didn't want near her at all. It wasn't enough though. She felt dizzy, and knelt down slowly as she started speaking to Jim.

"Wake up and... push that thing out of here..."
She knew the effort was futile; the gas had already made the corridor smoky, and she wasn't doing well at the moment. Jim was unresponsive, but she knew she was going to try and stir him as much as she could.
"Corporal... come on...."
She muttered, reaching in and patting the man semi firmly to try and get him to show some signs of being conscious. However, with every breath she took, she felt more and more unstable, until she finally felt too weak to even try to get him to wake up. One hand stayed through the gate, the girls hand tightening around his jacket sleeve as she turned around to get ready for whatever was coming. Her gun was still pointed, and her eyes were still open, but it was clear she wouldn't put up much of a fight. Especially to the guards who had seen her before when she was captive.
"Jim... I don't.... feel so hot..."
 
He was in another world, the only sign he was still alive came in the form of the slight movements of his chest. His dreams were peaceful for a change. However, it also meant that he was oblivious to the situation around him. Erich Adler, his face hidden behind the rubber mask that protected his breathing from the sleep-causing gas -- placed his head between the northern set of bars that had first descended from the ceiling. His heart felt like it had been beating a million-miles per-hour, and only now was it slowing down due to the restraining of the deadly soldier. The pilot looked to be seconds from falling asleep, and appeared to be not much of a threat any more. However, it wasn't just the Canadian that had been causing all the murder -- the American herself had been a part of it. There had been many deaths today, and the surprise was that this small woman had been the source of many of them.

From down the corridor, another man appeared. This time, he was on the same side of the bars as Marla, his face disguised with a mask, the sound of heavy breathing as the filter kept him awake. His eyes watched from behind two, small circular glass windows. And as he proceeded to walk towards Marla until finally -- he was crouching beside her. His hand pushed away her weapon with ease, and he tilted her head up to look at him through the eye-holes. There was no mistakening who's voice began to speak.

'What do we have here? Little American pilot thinks she's some kind of two-man army. Oh... don't go to sleep just yet. Come on, stay awake.' He slapped her cheek lightly. 'You've caused a lot of trouble today, and I can't let you get away with that...' Once more, fingers clapped against her skin. '...There's going to be no escape this time, young girl.'
 
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