To Lyger 0: That is indeed why things got so complicated!
"This really was one of the most complex operations of the War, wasn't it?"
Nath nodded. "Opa talked about it a lot. I think his part in liberating Paris was one of his proudest moments during the war. So many people put so much effort into defeating the Nazis, and it all started here, even if it still took another couple months before the Nazis finally left Paris."
Marc hummed. "I didn't realize how much of the Allies' strategy was dependent on the Resistance's actions beforehand."
"Even the smallest actions can be the key in winning the war."
Paris, June 6, 1944
"I have a mission for you, Davidstern. Perhaps the most important one of the War – at least so far."
"I'm yours to command," David replied firmly, as the ocher smoke enveloped him, filling the interior of the barn with deeper darkness, cutting off even the hints of light filtering through the slats. Glancing behind him around the loft area that he shared with a dozen others, he suppressed the light that naturally emanated from him and pushed off the ground and up into the air, slipping carefully through the open window just below the roof. "What's the situation, monsieur?"
"Have you been listening to the free radio?"
"Not as often as I should have," Davidstern admitted, perching on top of the barn and scanning the roads leading toward the farm where he had been hiding for the last four years. Off in the distance he could see the dark shapes of Paris; closer, dim lights flickered in a farm house a couple kilometers away. "I missed yesterday's broadcast."
Le Maquillon chuckled. "And yesterday's was the one you needed to hear!"
Davidstern's eyes widened in surprise, and he almost tumbled off the roof. "Really? It's here?"
"That it is, my old friend," le Maquillon confirmed, unbridled excitement resounding through his voice over their telepathic connection. "The invasion will begin in the morning – might already have started, in fact."
"That's wonderful news!" Davidstern rose up into the air, rotating in a quick circle before turning toward the north. Holding his arms out in front of himself to cut through the air, he pushed himself forward, accelerating rapidly. "What are your orders, then? Where do I meet the invasion force?"
"Actually," le Maquillon responded with some amusement, "I have a different task in mind for you, Davidstern. The Allies will storm the beaches, but once the invasion begins, what do you think the Nazis will do but try to reinforce and counterattack? And where do you think they will attempt to reinforce from but Paris? That is where we and the Resistance come in."
Davidstern nodded, veering sharply to the left toward Paris. "Very well. Where am I to go?"
Streaking across the sky, his light trail dialed back as low as possible, Davidstern flew over the city of Paris and paused just north of the city, looking down on the German Army units bivouacked around the city center and in the forest on the west side. A couple of people were moving around the vehicles, with others standing near the fencing surrounding the encampment, but none seemed to be paying him any attention. Davidstern frowned, scanning the tanks for any sign of the Iron Cross, though in the darkness he could hardly make out any details beyond the vague grey coloration.
"Maybe he's been recalled to Berlin," Davidstern mused, dropping down to land in a neighborhood northeast of the city, in a recess between two tall buildings, with an alleyway just behind him. "I won't complain about not having to face him tonight…" The light encasing Davidstern faded away to nothing, and he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark looking around for any sign of the contacts that le Maquillon had mentioned. No sooner had the light disappeared than a handful of dark figures emerged from the shadowy alley, and one clapped him on the shoulder, grinning.
"Welcome, friend!" Jacques greeted him. "This is indeed an auspicious day, is it not?"
"It must be, to bring you out of hiding and all the way up to Paris!" Davidstern replied, placing a hand on Jacques' shoulder and giving it a companionly squeeze. "I'm glad to see you still in one piece, after the last few years."
"It truly is going to be a good day," agreed another man, with fair skin and close-cropped hair. Davidstern gave the man a curious look.
"Marcel represents CDLL," Jacques explained, glancing sidelong at the man in question. "Evidently, their operatives have agreed to help us tonight."
"I still don't understand why we're working with these communists," muttered another man, shifting his weight uneasily.
A large, muscular African man who almost blended into the shadows placed an enormous hand on the other's shoulder. "You know, Jean, back home we have to make deals with an awful lot of people, and we don't always get along with them. If these guys will fight with you to free your country…" He shrugged. "I say, let them."
Jean hummed dubiously.
Jacques sighed heavily, clenching and unclenching his jaw. "We're all French here, right?" he finally told the others, raising an eyebrow at Jean. "We can work together for this. CDLL wants to get rid of the Nazis as much as the rest of us do, I'm sure."
"I'm not French," the African pointed out in a rumbling baritone, quirking an eyebrow.
Davidstern cocked his head, listening more carefully to the thick drawl that colored his French. "Wait… American?" he asked.
"Born and raised. Sergeant Buck Roberts, U.S. Army. Though I've been going by the codename 'Tuskegee' since I've been here."
"Call me 'Davidstern'."
Jean folded his arms. "So. We're all in this together. Fine. Now what exactly are we supposed to be doing here? I assume that someone has a plan?"
A woman in a knee-length skirt, her reddish-brown hair pulled up into a double bun at the back of her head, stepped forward and cleared her throat. "You're all here," she informed them, "because I called you here. Agent Coccinelle, liaison officer for the British SOE and FFI," she added, glancing around the assembled group.
"We're working with the Brits?" Marcel scoffed, arching an eyebrow.
"You're working with an American already," Tuskegee reminded him, giving him an amused look. "Way it seems to me, don't look like you folks have much choice, if you're going to kick the Krauts out of your country."
Agent Coccinelle's eyes narrowed. "I am as French as any of you. But we need the Allies' help if we're going to win this war and get our France back. So I'll work with whomever I need to, to defeat the Nazis. And that also includes you." Marcel shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking away, and Agent Coccinelle studied the rest of the group for a long moment before nodding, her mouth set in a thin line. "Right. You know what's happening tonight. If all goes to plan, the war in France will look a lot different in a few hours. Our objective tonight is to cut off the German forces in Paris so they can't reinforce the landing sites."
Tuskegee grinned. "Sounds good, ma'am. Just point me at who to fight!"
"Finally!" Jacques agreed, nodding. "I've had enough of this skulking around and fighting from the shadows. It's time to actually take a hit at the Nazis!"
Jean gave Agent Coccinelle a dubious look. "So is that all we need to do? We might as well try to take on Hitler himself!"
"We're not the only units in Paris tonight," Agent Coccinelle informed him calmly. "Other groups are taking the airfield and telephone lines out of commission – our target is the roadways and bridges on the north side of the city."
Davidstern nodded pensively as the small group snuck down the dark streets, sticking to the shadows and avoiding the couple German patrols out on the streets. The Resistance fighters moved silently, with Agent Coccinelle and Tuskegee near the front and Davidstern bringing up the rear. Two blocks from their objective, quiet voices speaking German interrupted the silence, just around a corner. Agent Coccinelle held up a hand to signal the rest of the group to hold back, before she marched straight up to the German patrol. Moments later, Davidstern was stepping over the bodies that Agent Coccinelle had pushed into the shadows just off the sidewalk. Less than fifteen minutes before dawn, the group halted in the shadow of an industrial warehouse on the north end of the city, just inside the city's outer ring.
"We're here," Agent Coccinelle whispered, poking her head out from behind the apartment building and nodding slowly. "The guards don't seem to be on alert yet, so we may be able to catch them off-guard. We just need to cause enough of a pileup here to keep them busy at least the rest of today."
Davidstern nodded curtly. "Just give me a signal," he told her, holding out his glowing hand.
Agent Coccinelle's eyes widened. "That's not something I've seen too much of…" she murmured, her gaze shifting quickly from his hand up to his face. She furrowed her brows. "You'll have to tell me the source of your power at some point. If we survive this, that is."
"Very well," he agreed, nodding. "Although I don't know too much about where the power comes from."
She hummed. "More's the pity." Clearing her throat, she added, "Either way, I think you will be the signal."
"Just say 'when'."
"Now!"
With a shout, Davidstern rocketed up into the sky, bringing his fists together and sending out a massive pulse of golden light just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. Below him, the combined group of resistance fighters sprinted down the street, diving for cover behind trees and vehicles along the final two blocks between their meeting point and the German checkpoint. The Germans sentries at the gate blocking the road looked up at Davidstern in confusion, shielding their eyes from the bright glow and blinking dumbly. Suddenly, one of them pointed up at him and aimed his rifle in Davidstern's direction, firing a sharp burst at him. Smirking, Davidstern waved a hand in front of himself, raising a light-shield just as they fired. The bullets tinged harmlessly off of the shield, seconds before the maquisards closest to the barricade opened fire on the sentries. Three gunshots rang out in quick succession. One of the guards fell to a well-placed bullet in the head; the other spun in shock, only to be struck in the chest as he spotted the others. Without hesitating, Jacques and another man raced across the street, grabbing the Germans' rifles and diving for cover along the barricade.
A tank whirred to life to one side of the checkpoint, rotating its turret and pointing the main gun up at Davidstern. He scoffed. "That didn't work last time; what makes you think it will work now?"
With a deep ca-thud, the tank fired; Davidstern drifted to one side and adjusted the angle of his shield, moments before the projectile struck. Deflecting off of the shield at an angle, the projectile rocketed to Davidstern's left, falling toward one of the two anti-aircraft batteries sitting just inside the barricaded checkpoint, next to the road. The tank fired again, and again Davidstern shifted his shield. An explosion rocked the ground to the west, and a train blew apart on the tracks, derailing and rolling onto its side. Davidstern drifted a little, drawing the attention of the Germans on the ground moments before Tuskegee surged forward, leaving the relative safety of the vehicle-barricades, barreling across the street and crashing straight through the checkpoint barricade, as Jacques and the other maquisard followed. A soldier stepped out of the guardhouse, his pistol in hand, and his eyes shot wide open in shock, staring up at Tuskegee. Grabbing the soldier with one hand, Tuskegee lifted him off the ground with a grunt, ripped the pistol out of his hand, and hurled him sideways into two more emerging from the other guardhouse. Jacques unloaded a dozen shots into the guardhouse at pointblank range, and Tuskegee fired twice into the first guardhouse. A dozen more soldiers began to converge on the checkpoint from the requisitioned convenience store on the other side of the barricade.
The tank fired again at Davidstern but missed, striking the road surface behind the Resistance fighters. As one, the fighters surged forward, toward the barricade. Snarling, Tuskegee jumped and grabbed onto the tank's main gun, tugging the end of the barrel down. Two of the Resistance fighters fell before reaching the checkpoint, and Agent Coccinelle paused by one, pressing a cloth bandage to his shoulder. Tuskegee released his grip on the tank's barrel and rolled away, just as the tank fired again. With a thunderous boom, the barrel shattered, raining shrapnel in all directions. The other resistance fighters began firing on the Germans before they could reach the gate, sending the German defenders into a disorganized retreat.
Looking in both directions warily, Agent Coccinelle sprinted through the destroyed barricade and hurled a satchel of explosives at the bridge behind the checkpoint. With a shout, she dove for cover behind the Germans' destroyed tank, just before the bomb exploded. The bridge collapsed onto the road surface below, and Jacque let out a relieved cheer.
"That's one checkpoint down," Agent Coccinelle called as Davidstern drifted lower. "Just three more to go."
He nodded. "I'll keep them distracted; you do your thing."