Author's Note: All properties are the rights of their respective owners, Sledgehammer, Activision, LucasArts Games, etc.

Truth be told, I'm just happy I awoke from my Thanksgiving Turkey coma quickly enough to get this chapter up.

Time to get this show on the road, and by that I mean get the mission started. This is all totally original stuff, none of it is in the game, so the mission, events, and tone will be different. Feedback is appreciated as I can't just use history as a template.

The Devil's Company

Chapter 6: Vanguard

Kristianstad Aerodrome

Kristianstad, Sweden

0738 Hours, January 9, 1945

"I never thought I'd miss the heat of the Solomons," admitted Wright, turning up the mouton fur collar of his G-1 flight jacket. The sun was barely starting to peak over the horizon to the east as the Battlehawks emerged from their barracks and trudged through the snow towards the hanger that housed their fighters. Through what the Marine assumed was some mighty diplomatic effort, the allegedly neutral country had allowed for Operation Vanguard to be launched from the small airfield near the Baltic Sea. The previous day, the operation's aircraft, totaling the four Battlehawk fighters, two dozen DC-3 Dakota transports, and eight Handley Page Halifax Mk. V bombers from No. 298 Squadron, RAF. Commander Rork said the larger craft were to serve as tugs for the equal number of Horsa gliders already transported to the airfield by a Swedish flagged ship through the North Sea.

"Just be thankful our planes have heaters, old chap," answered Trevor, appearing at Wright's side and offering the American a cup of tea. Curtis balked at the unexpected aroma, still expecting coffee even after his time in Great Britain, but the warmth radiating from the beverage onto his numbing face overpowered any hesitance he might have had. Downing a gulp of the scalding tea, and savoring every bit, Wright let the oldest of the four fighter pilots continue. "The poor bloody infantry, their gliders don't," he reminded, pointing towards the commandoes, who were mustering outside the barracks where they had shacked up for the night. "Sorry sods will be freezing their asses off all the way to Germany!"

"You couldn't pay me enough money to make that flight," agreed Wright as he took another gulp of tea. He looked up into the sky, seeing the low cloud layer overhead before turning his eyes south, towards Germany, "You know if the Krauts got any new surprises waiting for us, Trevor?"

The British pilot shook his head, "Recon flight yesterday didn't suggest Jerry has anything else in store. The airfield is still clear, Bomber Command softened up the radar stations in the area, and we've no reports of any troops that might come give us a seeing too."

Wright hummed as he went back to his tea, "Still… daylight." He'd heard about Carlson's Raiders during his time in the pacific and their daring raids behind Jap lines… and he'd heard they always went in under cover of darkness.

"All the better that we don't get separated on the trip over," answered Trevor, the same tone Curtis had always gotten when he voiced his concern. "Night landings do have such an awful propensity for going poorly. We can't afford a mistake like that here."

While the Marine Aviator mulled over that thought, the other two fighter pilots came out of the barracks. Commander Rork spoke, voice cutting through the chill in the air, "Gentlemen, I have received word. We are go. Man your planes."

Wright finished the tea before jogging through the path in the snow to the hanger.

No. 298 Squadron Airspeed Horsa Glider 'Chalk 17'

Over the Baltic Sea, approximately 9 miles off German Coast

1111 Hours, January 9, 1945

Fidgeting irritably in her cramped, uncomfortable seat, Polina Petrova whipped her head around in response to another bump, the glider creaking under the strain. After tensing for a moment, the Sharpshooter forced herself to relax and tried, unsuccessfully, to get comfortable. Looking around, it was clear to the Russian that none of the men sharing the glider were faring much better in that respect. She was with a small section of a half dozen, a quarter of the number in the other gliders, but that was compensated for by the pair of small American trucks they carried, which she'd heard the others refer to as 'Jeeps' that had been named 'Vera' and 'Lynn.'

The Jeeps took up most of the space inside the glider, leaving precious little room for the handful of men inside. Of the six commandoes, Polina only knew two by name, the dark-skinned Kingsley and Riggs, the boisterous Aussie who drank like a Russian. The other four were enlisted troopers, the two-man crews for each of the trucks. Talk had been limited, with the droning noise of the four-engine bomber towing the glider preventing any communication other than hand signals or shouting.

Despite her steely disposition, the long flight in the unpowered deathtrap had frayed even the nerves of the Soviet Sniper. Taking a breath in an effort to calm herself and wishing she could smoke one of the American cigarette's she had purchased, Polina twisted herself around to look out the small window behind her, hoping she would be able to spot some sign of their destination, but instead saw just clouds with hints of blue sky above and… that was it. The unease she had once felt returned to the Russian, and it took her a second to realize it was what she didn't see that was the problem.

She made to stand just as another serious bump rocked the craft, causing Polina to have to brace herself on one of the Jeeps before stumbling her way forwards. Picking her way through the amassed equipment, the Sharpshooter arrived beside Lieutenant Kingsley, having to brace herself against the wall of the glider as she had to shout into his ear. "Where are the other planes?"

Pulling back, she looked at the dark-skinned officer and saw bewilderment on his features as he screamed back, "What?"

Pointing to the window next to Kingsley, "The others, they are no longer there," she repeated, watching as the man craned his neck around to look where Petrova was pointing. "Where did they go? Have we strayed from them?"

She could see the Commando mull over her words, "Did you see them before?" he asked. Instead of continuing to shout over the racket, Petrova merely nodded and Thiswaited for Kingsley to act. "I'll speak to the pilots."

Satisfied that something was being done, Polina stepped aside and let Kingsley squeeze through the narrow gap on his way forwards. Before she could make her way back to her seat, another series of bumps convinced her to stay where she was and take Kingsley's now vacant seat. From her new position, Petrova watched the Commando open the door into the cockpit and start to speak with the pilots, but could not hope to make out the words over the noise.

Looking back out the window, Polina still saw no other aircraft, but she could see hints of land through the clouds, meaning their journey was, mercifully, nearing its end. Time dragged on, and with each passing minute, Petrova couldn't ignore that nagging feeling that something was amiss, a feeling she had come to trust since it has saved her life more than once before. The Soviet Sniper pondered her options, and soon decided to move back to her rifle, knowing that if something did go awry, she would want her weapon. Picking her way through the cramped cabin, Polina struggled to stay upright as turbulence got worse, often looking out the window to see more of her enemy's land below when there was a sudden lurch, and she felt the world drop from under her.

Unease turned to panic as Polina realized that the glider had been released from its tug, and they were now on their own. They were minutes away from a hard landing and Petrova stumbled aft as she scampered to her seat to get strapped in before they touched down. Every time she looked outside, Polina saw the land below with more definition, and her experienced eye judged the range to be closing, to the point where she could see a small town in the distance and make out the individual trees below.

Petrova got back into her seat and slung her rifle over her shoulder before she hastily began strapping herself in, doing up the latches as Kingsley came back in from the cockpit shouting, "BRACE! BRACE! BRACE FOR IMPACT!" Picking her knees up, Polina took one last look out the window to see that the tops of the trees were at eye level. The first impact was violent, knocking the wind out of the Sniper as she bounced against the harness and the glider bounced off the ground, briefly taking flight once more before returning to earth somewhat more smoothly. Gritting her teeth, Petrova ground out a curse in Russian, feeling the glider begin to slow, but that was when things began to really go wrong.

The next thing Polina was aware of was her head snapping to once side as she was thrown laterally against her harness, a horrific sound of shearing metal as the glider began to spin around and start to roll. Petrova's fingers dug into her uniform with a white-knuckle grip as her rifle sling tugged on the crook of her elbow. A scream escaped from the Russian's mouth when she heard a violent 'snap' as the tie down straps for one of the jeeps failed and the vehicle tumbled, falling onto the side wall of the partly rolled and skidding glider, the weight causing the fuselage frame to fail as the craft began to rip itself apart the further it skidded. Petrova could only watch as the aft section of the glider was torn off, the loose vehicle cartwheeling across the countryside before the out-of-control craft made a sharp downwards dive and came to an abrupt stop.

After a few seconds of heavy breathing, Polina realized she was still in her harness, suspended from it in fact, in a glider that was in pieces, rolled on one side, and had what was left of its tail sticking up in the air, but she was alive. Turning her aching neck forwards, she hoped she could say the same of the others.

Objective Checkmate

Occupied Airfield 4 miles Northwest of Greifswald, Germany

1207 Hours, January 9, 1945

Having finished repacking his flight bag, Wright grabbed it and his modified Carbine before hoisting himself out of the Corsair's cockpit. Descending the wing, the Marine hopped down and took his first step onto German soil, an airfield with a rough airstrip, a few buildings, and aircraft shelters that now housed the Battlehawks fighters and DC-3s. The operation had gone off, to this point, without a hitch, with the Battlehawks flying top cover while the glider troops landed and secured the airfield, signaling for the flight of DC-3 transports flying in close behind to land, followed soon after by the four fighters.

The fighters that would be staying were placed in the few shelters while the DC-3s were unloaded, Battlehawk mechanics setting to work making the fighters ready for when they would be needed. Stepping out of the shelter, Wright saw the commandoes busy setting up their positions as he surveyed the airfield. He also saw the reason that the airfield had been abandoned. There were shell craters dotted around the area, most of which were visible from the air, but on the ground, it was clear that the dozens of impacts had done little to impede operations thus far.

Making his way to one of the few buildings the small airfield had to join his fellow pilots, Wright almost collided with a commando coming out the door, "Bloody watch where you're going… Yank," finished Webb.

"I'm from Missouri," reminded Wright dryly, eliciting a small smile from the commando. "Still can't believe we got this airfield. Thank God not all Russians can shoot like ours or we might have had some trouble. I'm amazed everything is still intact, runways, facilities, everything. What about you ground pounders? Any trouble on your end?"

"My chalk made it okay, so did most of the others," replied Webb, but there was a tension in his words that Wright picked up on. "We'll need you flyboys to help with reconnaissance, the only glider that's missing is the one with our jeeps, it's chalk too."

Taking another look around, Curtis noticed that the little four by fours were indeed absent, and then he asked, "Who was in that chalk?"

"Kingsley was in charge," answered Webb quietly.

The words sank in, "Arthur? Damn," replied the Marine, recalling the British Lieutenant fondly before remembering something else. "Weren't some other members of our little drinking circle in there too? Riggs and Petrova?" Webb gave a single, solemn nod in response. "Any ideas where they are?"

Webb nodded towards the door, ushering Curtis inside and leading him to where the commandoes had set up a small command post centered around a map table. "Assuming they're still breathing, they aren't close because we can't raise them on the radio. That leaves a few options; here, here, and here are the secondary rendezvous points in case we got scattered. This is where they're going to be. But we don't have the manpower to search for them."

Grimacing, the former Black Sheep pulled his knee board out of his bag, marking the locations on his map of the area, "I'ma go talk to Rork."

Chalk 17 Crash Site, 1 Kilometer West of Lubmin, Germany

25 Kilometers East of Objective Checkmate

1210 Hours, January 9, 1945

Slowly opening his eyes, Arthur Kingsley felt pain wracking his body as he shook his head in an effort to clear his vision. Looking around, he saw the remnants of the glider that lay in tatters and the unmoving body of one of his enlisted men before Kingsley slowly regained his wits. He tried to speak but only managed a hacking cough as he tasted copper on his tongue. Kingsley wiped the blood dripping from the cuts on his face before trying to roll out of his seat when he heard a hoarse, accented voice, "Englishman? Are you still alive?"

Craning his head around, Arthur saw Petrova move through the wreckage towards him, the woman looked relatively unscathed considering the carnage around them. "Wha… ach," hissed Arthur as he tried to get up and realized that the glider was overturned, "What happened?" he asked as he finally got to his feet and fished his Sten Gun out of the wreckage.

"We crashed," informed the Soviet Sniper bluntly as she offered her hand helped Arthur to his full height and he fought to keep solid footing. "Both pilots are dead, as are most of the men, and one of the jeeps is destroyed."

"And the good news?" asked Kingsley in dry tones, drawing a snort from Polina as the sniper led him towards the nose, where an open door revealed the snow-covered field they had landed on.

"Our arrival appears to have been unnoticed by the Nazis," answered Petrova as she emerged from the Horsa and picked up her rifle, "And this one is still alive," she said as her boot shot out.

"Oi! What the fuck was that for ya cunt?" the vulgar Australian snapped. Kingsley emerged to see Riggs rubbing his leg as he sat with his back to the aluminum skin of the glider. The Englishman saw the Aussie's vision shit to him before he was greeted with Rigg's typical class, "At least one of you English wankers made it to see what a wonderful fucking mess we've got ourselves into." He then shook his head and muttered, "Last time I trust the goddamn pommies."

Biting his tongue, Kingsley looked at the other two survivors and the situation, "Have we seen any of the others?" he asked, getting a headshake from Petrova and a mutter that sounded like 'fuck off' from Riggs. "The other gliders? Planes? Anything?" he asked, with only Polina responding this time, and in the same way. "Then we missed our drop zone."

"No shite we missed our drop zone!" exclaimed Riggs, the Australian picking himself up and turning to face Kingsley despite the way he favored one leg. "Probably not even inside Germany! Hell, I'm surprised that we didn't go down in the fucking Baltic."

Taking a breath, Arthur let Riggs get his anger out before resuming, "Which means we'll have to drive there, and that means getting the jeep out. Polina, go find a position to keep watch, whistle if you see someone coming. Hide if you can, but if you can't…."

"I kill them, da?" she asked, and Arthur nodded. Though the woman held his gaze for a moment, she eventually acquiesced, picking up her rifle and marching through the snow and into the leafless trees.

"While we do what? Have a wank?" asked Riggs indignantly.

"No," answered Kingsley firmly, "I need you to blow the nose off the glider so we can get the jeep out."

When Arthur turned back, he saw the faintest hint of a smile appear on the Australians face, "Now you're talking."

Chalk 17 Crash Site, 1 Kilometer West of Lubmin, Germany

25 Kilometers East of Objective Checkmate

1232 Hours, January 9, 1945

Left to her own devices, Petrova had reverted to what she did best and found a good place to hide, crawling under a leafless shrub and surrounding herself in snow while using her scope to watch the open field and crossroads beyond. It was an odd experience, being in the homeland of her bitterly hated enemy, yet finding it almost like the wilderness where her father once took her hunting for many years. Steeling her heart, the Soviet Sharpshooter knew that Germans would no doubt be abundant, and so she kept her eyes sharp for any sort of movement as the minutes dragged on.

A flash in the corner of her scope prompted the muzzle of her Mosin to shift as she took aim at the blur that dashed across the field before coming to a stop at the same moment Polina's crosshairs came to rest on it, only for her finger to ease off the polished trigger. "An olen'" she breathed, adjusting her head as she watched the four-legged creature crane its neck down to drink from a patch of melted snow; its impressive array of antlers that crowned its head would have made a fine trophy indeed… but Petrova was here to hunt other game.

The deer's head suddenly came up and turned to look straight at Petrova, causing the Sniper's mind to think back to one of those hunting trips. Her recollections were brought to an abrupt halt by the silence shattering explosion that rolled over the snow-covered land. Looking out over her rifle, Polina saw the animal turn and bolt away, clearly spooked by the sound as it fled. After watching the creature disappear behind a thicket, Petrova looked for any other signs of activity before slowly slipping from her position and retracing her steps back to the crashed glider.

Drawing near, she heard the distinct noise of a petrol engine roll through the countryside, which was soon followed by her catching sight of the olive drab vehicle emerge from the glider, the nose having been blown off the craft. "Ah, look who's back! You happen to see anything interesting out there?" called Riggs as he waved at Petrova.

"Nothing to shoot, no," answered Polina through clenched teeth, "But anyone out there will be coming to investigate that explosion," she informed as she stepped up to the vehicle. Inside, she could see that every available space was filled with equipment and supplies, leaving only just enough room for the three of them. "We should make haste," she advised as she looked to the Englishman in the driver's seat.

"Agreed," replied Arthur as he pulled himself from the vehicle and produced a map from one of his pouches. "Did you see any landmarks? Any idea as to where we are?" he asked, laying the paper across the front of the vehicle.

Polina ignored the map, "There is a road, maybe a kilometer in that direction, it runs northeast to southwest." The Soviet Sniper pointed in the direction, "But I saw no landmarks beyond that."

She could see the visible, if slight, downturn of the Commando's lips, "That's our first stop then," he declared, folding up the map. "Everyone in the Jeep, let's get moving."

One person was already ahead of him, "Oi, little help here?" asked the Aussie, who was already standing at the back of the vehicle. Petrova paid him no mind as she slipped into the passenger seat and cradled her rifle in her lap as Kingsley helped usher Riggs into the back so the Aussie could man the machine gun set up there. "Thanks for the help, sweetheart," said Riggs sarcastically, but Polina continued to ignore him as Arthur got back into the driver's seat and put the car in gear. No sooner than the vehicle began moving when the irritating Australian opened his mouth yet again, "Mom, dad, are we there yet?"

For his sake, Petrova hoped they were close to their destination.

'Vera,' 1 Kilometer Northeast of Brünzow, Germany

20 Kilometers Southeast of Objective Checkmate

1317 Hours, January 9, 1945

Bringing Vera to a stop, Kingsley pondered the decision that lay ahead of him, literally. This far into the journey, the trio had yet to encounter any sign of the Bosch, but Arthur could see a village up the road, and the last thing he wanted to do was invite trouble yet at the same time he had to know where they were. "Polina," said Kingsley, getting the attention of the woman beside him, "That village up there. You see any sign of Jerry?"

His answer from the woman was a glare colder than the snow on the ground before she raised her rifle and peered through the scope of her rifle while Arthur kept his eyes focused on their near surroundings, especially behind them. Looking up to see how Riggs was faring, Arthur could tell that the Australian was in pain, but doing his best to tough it out, mainly by running his mouth, at least until a warning look from Kingsley silenced whatever comment the demoman was preparing to deliver. "It is safe to move through the village," Announced Polina suddenly, causing Arthur to look at the Sniper with unabashed surprise on his face, "I see the ruins of a German convoy there, burnt out. The whole village looks bombed out, abandoned."

Arthur could hear the venom in her tone, the way she sounded happy about the destruction, and it put him on edge as he put Vera back in gear, "Stay alert, just in case." With that word of caution, he eased the Jeep forward, slowly creeping up the road towards the village until he saw what Polina clearly had. The road was cluttered by vehicles, a mix of trucks and carts that had been destroyed and left as blackened husks. The surrounding land was dotted by impact craters from bombs and rockets, and more than a few buildings bore the scars of the attack, most disturbing of all were the bodies, left half covered in show and frozen solid, a mixture of women, children, elderly, and pack animals. "My god they're bloody civilians," exclaimed Riggs as he looked around.

Arthur grimaced, this wasn't a military convoy, it was a refugee column, fleeing west, away from the Red Army. These people had been running with whatever they could bring with them when they were attacked, probably by Russian aircraft, and slaughtered. Holding his tongue, Kingsley looked at the woman in the seat beside him to get a read on her, yet he was only met with the same icy expression from the Sniper as she glared hatefully at the carnage. It was a look that unsettled the Commando nearly as much as the feeling of driving through a graveyard.

Yet he stayed on the road, following it through to the other end of the village, "Looks like a sign for the village over there," commented Kingsley as he guided Vera towards the board. Easing the Jeep around the sign, Arthur reflexively brought the vehicle to an abrupt halt when he saw what was on the other side.

"Nazi compassion," sneered Petrova icily as they all took in the sight of what had to be a dozen young men lined up next to each other against the sign for the village, all had been shot by a firing squad. Kingsley could only shake his head, and even Riggs had fallen eerily silent behind them.

Arthur forced himself to look at the sign that the execution had used as a backdrop, and it only took one glance for the name on it to be seared into his memory. "Let's move on," whispered the Englishman before he urged the Jeep forwards, getting well clear of the town before he pulled off the road, taking care to get under the cover of the leafless trees, now reminded of the threat of air attack, and not necessarily from the Luftwaffe. Once sure that they had a moment of safety, Kingsley pulled out the map again, along with a pencil, and set to work searching for the town name he had seen. "We're right about… here," he said, marking a spot just southwest of Brünzow, "And we need to be there."

"I think we missed our fucking drop point, mate," observed Riggs as he peeked over Arthur's shoulder.

Silently, Kingsley agreed, now that he saw the distance they had to go and was thankful they had the Jeep at least. "Still, we're headed in the right direction," he returned with typical British understatement, making a note of the route he wanted to take before he folded the map back up and swapped it for his compass. "Assuming we don't run into any trouble, we should reach the objective in an hour."

"And if we do run into any trouble?" asked Polina with thinly veiled cynicism.

There was a distinct metallic clacking behind Arthur as he turned to see Riggs settle behind the machine gun, "That's why we have the guns, Princess."

RAF No. 675 Squadron 'Battlehawks' Vought F4U-4 Corsair

Over Germany, 6 miles west of Objective Checkmate

1342 Hours, January 9, 1945

Circling, Wright scanned the snowy fields below for any sign of the missing glider before leveling his wings and marking his map again. The Marine heard his radio and crackle to life, "I don't see any sign of them. How 'bout you, Curt?"

Looking off his wing, Curtis saw his fellow American's gleaming silver Mustang pull alongside before he answered Chase over the radio. "Nothing here either, I'm turning us east, they had to end up somewhere." With a measured press of the rudder pedal, Wright steered the big Corsair onto their new heading and made for the next alternate site in hopes of finding their wayward drinking buddy.

It was only the two Americans flying this impromptu mission, since neither Rork's Tempest nor Trevor's Spitfire had their range and had expended most of their fuel just crossing the Baltic. By contrast, the F4U, designed to cross the vast expanses of the Pacific, and P-51, intended as a long-range bomber escort, had fuel to spare, and so Rork had approved Wrights request to use it to aid Kingsley, assuming the Battlehawk pilots could find him. "Roger that, just keep an eye on the sky too."

Curtis did an instinctive sweep of the sky around him, noting the heavy clouds overhead, but that was it. Still, it sounded like the other Ace was worried about more than their fuel state, "You see somethin' Chase?"

"Not yet," answered the Mustang pilot, doing little to dispel Wright's sudden unease, "Just that we're heading towards Peenemünde. The krauts got a big weapons testing facility up there, airfield too, it's where they tested their V-2 rockets and a bunch of 262s." Wright had heard and been briefed on the vaunted German jets, including how to beat them, it seemed that they were a foe the Battlehawks were well versed in fighting. "I know about it because we staged a raid on it last March and did a number on the place. Used the same basic plan we did here, how do you think this all came together so quickly?"

Curtis shrugged inside the cockpit, but his attention was now split between the ground below and skies above, he was here to help Kingsley, not join him on the ground. "You think it's related to whatever we're looking for now?" he asked.

"Ah hell, I dunno. Could be, Nemesis ran most of the tests at Peenemünde and I wouldn't be surprised to hear they have a hand in this Nova business," answered Chase.

Off to their left was the largest nearby German town, and Curtis made sure to give it a wide berth, hoping their aircraft would be two non-descript dots in the distance rather than be identified as American fighters. But his mind was now fixed on something the other pilot had said, "Who's this 'Nemesis' you mentioned?" asked the Marine, "Are they gonna be a problem?"

"Nemesis is a Luftwaffe squadron, they're… well, they're like us," answered Chase. "Battlehawks have tangled with them a couple times over the years, usually when Nazi Wonder Weapons are involved."

"Just like they are now," muttered Wright as he gripped his stick a little tighter and checked that the master arm for his fifty-cals was 'on.' "Anything I oughta' know about 'em?"

"They're cocky SOBs," replied the Mustang pilot instantly, "But they burn when you shoot them, just like all the rest."

"Good enough for me," returned Curtis as he checked his heading and speed, after all, what else really mattered?

'Vera,' 8 Kilometers East of Griefswald, Germany

20 Kilometers Southeast of Objective Checkmate

1458 Hours, January 9, 1945

"We have problem," informed Polina bluntly as she returned to the Jeep that the men insisted was named 'Vera.' The small 4x4 was tucked away in an abandoned barn at the outskirts of some Fascist town while Petrova had been ordered to go and scout the way ahead, it should have been a quick task, but complications had arisen, and it had taken more than an hour for her to ascertain the extent of the task ahead of the trio. "There is SS column stopped in the town, I saw several armored vehicles and halftracks. Perhaps company strength, I do not know."

She saw the expressions of both men go pensive at the bad news, this was an unexpected and serious complication. "Did you get noticed?" asked Kingsley, prompting an emphatic shake of the head from the Sniper as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at such a question. She was confident she could have killed the units Commanding Officer and still not been caught, but that would have made it difficult to get to the airfield. "Okay, that's good. Did you get a good look at what they have?"

"Five armored vehicles, assault guns, I did not recognize the type, but it was larger than any STUG I have ever seen," began Petrova, "There were several trucks and a few halftracks. Enough for forty or fifty men. They are centered on this road here," she said, indicating a street near the center of town, "But there are smaller groups out roaming the streets. I saw them…."

The unexpected sound of the barn door opening halted Polina's report as all three turned and trained their weapons on the doorway, and the woman who stood fearlessly in it. Her face was pretty in what Polina judged to be a bourgeoisie way, with flowing black hair and sharp green eyes standing out from her fair skin. She wore civilian clothes, a heavy wool coat and colorful scarf, but it did not escape Polina's eye that her coat was open in such a way she could draw a hidden weapon. "Icepick," said the mystery woman calmly in a notably English accent, taking a step forward and closing the door behind her, the woman eyed the three of them before speaking again, "Icepick."

"Phoenix," responded Kingsley as Polina saw the British Commando lower his weapon out of the corner of her eye. The Russian was not as trusting of this mystery woman, and so the scoped Mosin remained trained on her as Arthur asked, "Who are you?"

"You can call me ROSE," answered the woman, taking a confident step forward. "I'm English, an SOE spy, here looking for Freisinger and whatever it is he's working on."

"What do you know about that?" snapped Polina as she kept her rifle leveled at the woman, unaware that her lips had drawn back into a snarl that hadn't gone unnoticed by the others.

"Enough to have you all sent here," replied ROSE coolly. "Well, not here exactly, why aren't you lot at the airfield?"

"Our Limey pilots caused us to miss our drop point," answered Riggs before saying, "If you're looking for a ride, then you can come with us, ride in my lap if you like."

Polina recognized the look that appeared on the face of ROSE as she met the gaze of the Australian, but before the situation could go any further, Kingsley stepped in to play diplomat. "That won't be necessary," he assured before shooting a glance at Riggs that garnered a low curse from the Aussie. "What's the situation? Was the landing compromised?"

The Spy shook her head, "No, as far as I can tell they haven't been noticed. But Freisinger is getting nervous, his project isn't complete yet, but the Red Army is approaching. This SS unit is here to defend his factory, or at least buy him time to ship out whatever it is he's working on. I shadowed them to this town, but they aren't moving on as quickly, they've been going door to door and I can't stay here. So when I saw a woman in a Russian Army uniform skulking about I figured who it might be, and that she might be my ticket out of here."

"Aw, you see that Princess," remarked Riggs, "You have a fan."

The rest of the group promptly ignored him. "I won't risk getting caught," announced Kingsley, "Either that convoy moves on or we wait until nightfall before we move. Otherwise we don't stand a chance against a force that size."

But this elicited a grimace from ROSE, "I'm afraid the Germans won't give you that long lieutenant. Eventually their search will reach here, and if we aren't gone soon then we won't leave at all, so we must. Leave. Now."

"And what about those German patrols?" asked Arthur, though Polina could tell his conviction was fading.

"I have been watching them for the better part of two hours," replied ROSE. "Before I saw her," the spy nodded towards Polina, "I was going to commandeer a vehicle and make my own escape. I can guide you past them. Let's go."

"Everyone, back in Vera," ordered Kingsley tersely, and Polina reluctantly climbed in the back with Riggs, who settled back in behind the large machine gun as the Sniper kept her rifle at the ready. The two Brits took the seats in the front of the Jeep as Kingsley coaxed the vehicle back to life and guided it out the door of the barn and into the chill of the midday air. "Where to first?"

"There will be roadblocks ahead, we must go off road and follow the coastline," she replied, pointing them north. Polina saw Kingsley hesitate before complying, the rugged four-by-four plowing through the snow as ROSE continued speaking, "We will still need to cross a canal that runs north of the town, I know a bridge we can use, and it shouldn't be guarded."

"Shouldn't?" asked Polina with barely hidden contempt.

Now the Spy turned to look at the Russian, "Shouldn't," she repeated, "I saw no troops move in that direction." After turning back to look forward, ROSE added, "We must still be cautious." Inside the Jeep, all members kept looking around for any sign of the Germans, but Polina soon saw the sun shimmering off the gently rolling waves of the Baltic. "Now west," urged ROSE as the Jeep was coaxed around, and Polina just trying to ignore the cold as each bump knocked her about the packed vehicle.

Kingsley had seemingly abandoned caution in favor of speed as the vehicle bounced through the open field, each stone hidden under the snow jarring those inside. Trying to ignore the string of muttered curses coming from the Australian behind her, Petrova was more focused on what she could her in the distance, the distinctly low, rolling rumble of diesel engines, despite the vast distance between them. And when the Jeep arrived at the bank of the canal and came to a stop, that distinct noise still carried across the snow-covered ground. "The convoy is preparing to move. They are not merely turning their engines over," said Polina, having long since learned how the Germans operated while stalking them.

It seemed that the Englishman at the wheel headed her words, "We'd better put some distance between us and them then." 'Vera' crossed a small ditch and came onto a dirt path, "That looks like our bridge right there, anyone see Jerry?"

Petrova shouldered her rifle and peered through the optic, looking for any sort of movement or vehicles on the far side of the bridge. "I can't see the fuckers," remarked Riggs after a silence Polina felt was far too short, "But I can sure as shite hear them."

"There is more cover on the far side the canal," Observed ROSE, the Englishwoman pointing towards a mix of structures and foliage, "We would be safer over there." Polina agreed with that point, and so when Kingsley looked back, she answered with a curt nod. She could see the hint of pensiveness on the driver's face before he put his foot down, the Jeep rolled forwards, with Polina feeling her skin prickle, and not from cold, as it turned onto the small bridge across the canal.

Petrova ducked down into the Jeep in some instinctual effort to feel less exposed, but she knew it was a futile effort. Yet it was one that proved unneeded as the motely crew arrived on the other bank, seemingly safe from the SS Column in the town, but unease still permeated the Sharpshooter, and it took her a moment to decipher the source. A look around revealed nothing, but her ear was as sharp as her eye, "One of the engine sounds is closer now, listen," urged Petrova.

"She's right," added ROSE, "Better get us out of sight Lieutenant." The Jeep turned off the beaten path yet again, slinking past a row of barren bushes before coming to a stop in the backyard of some house when a new sound reached their years, "That noise…."

"German halftrack, and it's coming this way," replied Kingsley as he killed the engine, "Anyone see it?"

"It's on the other side of the goddamn building, ya wanker! Of course, we can't see it!" snapped back Riggs. "Just better hope the thing doesn't fucking notice us." There was nothing else to do but wait as the four sat in silence, hearing but not seeing the German vehicle approach them. The clattering of tracks became clearer with each passing moment, and Polina could feel the rush of adrenaline at the impending danger, but her finger did not dare curl around the rifle's trigger.

But just when it seemed the approaching vehicle would come around the building, there was a change in the approaching track noise before it began to move away, slowly, but the pitch of the vehicle noise had changed. Nobody dared speak, not that much could be heard over the racket generated by the German vehicle as it drove away until, unsurprisingly, the Australian piped up. "That was too close. We really dodged a bloody bullet there,"

Petrova wasn't so convinced, and she kept her eyes focused on the source of the noise as there was another change, another turn, as the halftrack moved towards the bridge the Jeep had just crossed. And in doing so, the halftrack trundled along the road the Jeep had previously been on, and emerged from around a building about a hundred meters away. "Cyka," cursed the Sharpshooter, "Drive damn you!" she snapped.

"Hang on princess, they might not have seen us," replied Riggs. Petrova's head snapped to look at the Aussie, but before she could reply, the snow behind the Jeep was thrown up as the distinct report of a German Machine Gun cut through the air. The Mosin's muzzle came up as Polina caught sight of the Nazi gunner through her scope and began to put him in her crosshairs. "Oh fuck this!" exclaimed Riggs suddenly as he grabbed hold of the dual spade grips of the machine gun and swung himself around the pintle, slamming into Petrova as he brought the gun to bear. With her aim ruined, Polina could only grit her teeth as the Australian cut loose with the massive gun, its deep, reverberating report pounding her ears as it spat out a mix of belt links and spent brass that started to fill the back of the Jeep.

While the two gunners traded shots, Polina could only observe as the armor of the German vehicle sparked with each impact, the Aussie aiming true even as the halftrack wheeled around to point at the Jeep. More German bullets tore up the ground around the Jeep before Polina felt the small truck come to life and scamper away, throwing up a snow screen in its wake. Petrova futilely raised her rifle in an attempt to take aim at their pursuer, but a bump tossed her about the vehicle and put an end to that idea, doubly so as the Jeep continued off road.

Even if she couldn't shoot, Petrova kept her eyes back, focused on the armored vehicle as it trundled after them, keeping up with the smaller Jeep over the rough terrain. Polina was forced to hold onto the pintle for dear life as the vehicle began to swerve from side to side, Arthur attempting to evade the strings of bullets bracketing the fleeing Jeep. "Hang on!" shouted Kingsley, his words barely intelligible over the roar of engines and gunfire, but it was enough for Polina to tense up as the Jeep pitched up over a small ridge, clawing up the snow and hard frozen ground. The Soviet Sniper could only grit her teeth, if only so she didn't bite off her tongue, as the feisty four by four crested the feature and charged down the reverse slope, a plume of white encircling the vehicle as it ploughed through the snow at the bottom.

Twisting herself over, Polina could see they were hemmed in on one side by a tree line that forced Arthur to flow to their left, leaving them exposed while they crossed a long stretch of open ground. As the Jeep charged forwards, Petrova could hear the halftrack ascend the berm and craned her neck up to see the imposing form of the 8-ton vehicle crest the ridge. When it came down after them, the 251 moved with surprising speed, its weight and tracks pushing its bulk across the terrain with greater ease than the wheeled Jeep. Close enough to where the German gunner was able to open up on the Commandoes again, causing Polina to press her head down as she heard the snap of bullets pass overhead.

"Bloody cunt's gaining!" shouted Riggs as he triggered another burst from his machine gun, "We're gonna need to do something!" There was another series of swerves from Arthur as Riggs kept returning fire, but through the chaos, a flash overhead didn't escape the Sniper's notice. As Polina scanned the clouds above for whatever that had been, she heard the machine gun next to her fall suddenly silent. "FUCK! It's empty!"

"We have another problem!" shouted Petrova as she saw it, the shape of an airplane circle around ahead of them as its nose dropped and pointed straight at the Jeep. A high pitched whistle began to pierce through the noise of the vehicles, a noise Polina had long since come to dread. The airplane was just a dot in the distance, but was closing fast, and soon the Sniper could make out the distinct bent wings as it bore down on them, "Stuka! It's strafing us!" she shouted just before she saw the wings begin to sparkle.

Only the bullets didn't rain down on the Jeep, Polina instead saw a stream of tracers flash overhead and hammer the pursuing halftrack as the plane continued to dive down, pressing home its attack even as the German vehicle withered under the barrage of fire. Finally, the plane passed overhead, barely 50 meters off the ground, close enough for Petrova to make out the star markings on the wings as it winged over and climbed away, leaving the Nazi vehicle a bullet ridden, flaming wreck in its wake. "Oh fuck yes!" shouted Riggs, pumping a fist in the air as he yelled at the circling fighter, "Thanks for the help you beautiful Yankee bastard!"

Taking a deep breath and sitting up, Polina looked to the front when she heard ROSE speak. "The Battlehawks?" she asked, and Petrova saw Kingsley nod, "Well, it wouldn't be the first time they saved my skin. Let us get to the airfield so we can thank them in person. Shall we?"

Closing Notes: I know this might have felt a bit abrupt, but it was time to get this show on the road, I wanted to start distinguishing this story from that of the game. There will be a few chapters of this commando mission coming up next, so stick around. I've had a lot of fun with them so I hope you all enjoy them too.

Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.