Author's Note: All properties are the rights of their respective owners, Sledgehammer, Activision , Lucasarts Games, etc.
Alright, I've put my Destiny Day 1 Raid prep on pause to get this chapter up for y'all, it's a shorter set up one but hopefully y'all enjoy it nonetheless, the payoff will come next time.
Guest: Good to hear from you again, and yeah, having to see the dates on a bunch of those campaign clips made me feel older than I have any right to. I will be the first to admit that having Polina interact with Reznov is quite... convenient, but the opportunity was too good to pass up, and this is a fanfic at the end of the day, so I could live with it. It was the same as having Price involved, it really just had to be done. I won't say just who we run into this chapter, but I'm sure you'll recognize at least some of the names.
Also, I totally missed your previous review, and for that I am sorry, so I'll respond to it right here. The main issue I had with Polina's portrayal, besides some of the cringy dialogue, is how she is this superwoman who single handedly turned the tide of possibly the most important battle of the 20th century. It disregards the hundreds, if not thousands of incredibly heroic acts from many men and women that resulted in a Soviet victory. Perhaps even worse than the historical implications is that the notion spits in the face of what Call of Duty used to mean, it always was about being just a single soldier, one of thousands if not millions who fought for their respective countries, it wasn't about being an icon or a superhero, it was, to me, simply about answering the Call of Duty. The idea of developing Curtis' perspective didn't go anywhere, not because it doesn't have any potential, but that it's just beyond the scope of what this story is about, which is a Commando raid on a German facility in 1945. Ultimately, there has to be a balance, I want the characters to have enough depth to be realistic, but not so much the story gets bogged down and progresses too slowly. Curious to hear your thoughts on how well I did in that respect.
Just because seeing those reminded me, reviews are always welcome folks, if you got something to say, good or ill, I'd like to hear it.
The Devil's Company
Chapter 12: Regroup
No. 63 Commando scouting mission
11 miles from Project Nova Facility
0728 Hours, January 14, 1945
Standing in the road and able to sense all the eyes on her, Polina held her ground as her call rolled across the snow-covered countryside. Watching the forms of the soldiers lying prone on the snow, Petrova watched as one stood and approached her, cradling a submachine gun in his hand and smiling beneath his beard and mustache. "Polina? Polina Petrova?" he asked in the same, grizzled Russian she remembered as Sergeant Viktor Reznov extended a four fingered hand for the Sniper to shake. "It has been a long time since Stalingrad, it is good to see you again, Lady Death."
"Likewise, Viktor," she replied, noting the Lieutenants shoulder boards on his coat before pointing to the other men that were slowly approaching, "What are you doing here? I thought the front lines were still many kilometers away?"
The old veteran smiled darkly, "They were yesterday, but we have pushed the fascists back! They are in full retreat and we are to hunt them down and find where they have fled to! These," he said, arm sweeping behind him, "Are my men. All of you, this is Lady Death, I fought beside her in Stalingrad. She is one of the finest snipers in the Red Army!" Polina regarded them coolly, a motley collection to be certain, but each of the thirty or so she could see looked to either be veterans or were eager for a fight. Reznov then turned back to Petrova and spoke again in quieter tones, "And what of you, Polina? Do you hunt in these lands alone?"
Petrova immediately shook her head. "No, I… it is complicated. I am here on a special mission, hunting the SS General from Stalingrad, Freisinger. He is in a base nearby with his SS. But I am not alone. There is one other with me," she tried to explain before turning back to the house, noting she couldn't see Curtis in the window. Still, she called out to him, "Curtis! It is safe, come out!" There was a moment of silence before the American appeared in the doorway, cradling his carbine and leaning against the door frame, clearly ill at ease with the situation outside. She could hear the slight rustling as all the Russians shifted, trying to get a look at the strange new man, though the only man that mattered in Petrova's mind, Reznov, remained still and silent. "Viktor? He is an American, Captain Curtis Wright. He is a fighter pilot in their Marine Corps," she explained as she gestured towards the Ace Pilot and led Reznov to him.
Seeing Wright's eyes fix and narrow on Reznov, Polina gave him a reassuring smile as she saw the two men size each other up until the American spoke first. "Friends of yours Polina?"
Nodding, the Soviet Sharpshooter replied, "This is Lieutenant Reznov and his men."
An eyebrow rose on the Marine's expression, "The same?" he asked simply, and Polina nodded. One of the Marine's gloved hands came out, "Nice to meet you Reznov, after last night you're helluva sight for sore eyes."
Reznov's gaze went from the American to Petrova, and the female sniper said, "We had an… eventful night. We were a part of a larger group, scouting a Nazi base, when our comrades were killed by a new German weapon. He was wounded during our escape." Reznov looked back at the Marine and shook the man's hand firmly, causing Polina to let out a sigh of a relief.
But then Reznov did something that surprised Polina, the old lieutenant spoke to Curtis directly in broken English. "You are pilot?" he asked, getting a shocked expression and nod back from Wright. "Kill Germans?"
"Only two fighters so far, bagged them a few days ago. Then I got a couple Krauts during the excitement last night," answered the pilot before shrugging. "That's been it so far."
Reznov turned from Curtis to Polina, and the Sniper was quick to speak up "He has spent most of the war fighting the Japanese, destroying many of their planes, and even some of their ships. His comrades call him 'Daredevil,' one who is bold and fearless. I believe this is an apt moniker." Polina turned and offered the pilot a small smile before continuing. "Only recently did he begin fighting the Fascists in the air, I saw as he downed the planes he claims. Last night, he fought ably by my side against the Germans."
Nodding once, the old NCO asked Petrova, "Do you trust him?"
"With my life," answered Polina without hesitation.
With a grunt, Reznov took a step forward, standing beside Wright as he turned to face his men and clapped a hand down on the Marine's shoulder. "Comrades!" shouted Viktor, "This American has bloodied his hands against the Fascists and the Yellow Imperialists, and now he has come to help us destroy the vilest of German forces. There is an SS base nearby! Be ready to find and destroy these fascist scum!"
Polina was unsurprised when all of the men reacted strongly to Reznov's words, letting out an enthusiastic chorus of "Urrah!"
No. 63 Commando Rendezvous Point
3 miles from Project Nova Facility
1157 Hours, January 14, 1945
Arthur Kingsley was ill at ease in the bitter chill, and that was a feeling that permeated the entire regiment that had departed Checkmate. After a grueling march the night before, No. 63 Commando had set up a defensive strongpoint on a small hill overlooking the rendezvous crossroads, the rest of the men and vehicles of the unit on the opposite side. Hours had passed since the expected regrouping with the scouting mission, and with his longtime friend Richard Webb being the one leading that mission it was a struggle for the Lieutenant to stay focused. "Leftennant, leftennant!" whispered a nearby private, snapping Kingsley from his thoughts and prompting him to look at the rifleman. "I see movement out there, maybe 250 yards."
"Which direction?" asked the officer, feeling a spark of hope ignite.
"East, sir. Coming up the road," replied the enlisted man, swiftly smothering that spark. The Scouting mission was to the north, and the last thing they knew, the German forces to the east were retreating.
Reaching for his binoculars, Kingsley shifted to look that way, "Let's see who's coming to pay us a visit, shall we?" Peering out across the landscape, the Oxford man spotted movement, and inspecting the incoming men more closely revealed they wore, not the recognizable German helmets, but the furred hats that Polina favored. "Well I'll be damned," he muttered before sweeping the line of soldiers, in a rather sloppy combat spread to his judgement, and spotting a small truck driving along the road. Sitting in the passenger seat was a rather petite figure in a darker brown overcoat, while in the back was a man in a jacket, the back of which was sporting a very familiar bit of artwork. "Private," said Kingsley as he lowered the field glasses, "Inform the Captain that we have guests arriving, I'm sure he'll want to see them for himself."
If the younger man had any questions, he didn't raise them. "Yes sir," he answered with a quick salute before taking off to find Price.
Kingsley then turned to his platoon sergeant, a Welshman with an impressive beard, "Inform the men they're not to fire upon that group coming in from the east, but to keep a sharp lookout otherwise."
"Aye guv," grunted the NCO before turning off, trudging through the snow to spread the word.
Arthur watched the troops come down the road before coming to a halt at a crossroads that was the official meeting point. The slight figure in the passenger seat of the truck stood and looked about through the scope on her rifle until it came to a rest pointing at Kingsley. Unperturbed, the Commando raised an arm and waved, prompting the woman to lower her rifle and turn to the others in the truck, who began disembarking.
Lowering his binoculars, Kingsley watched a selection of figures moved towards the British positions when he heard the crunching sound of footfalls on snow approaching from behind. Turning, the Lieutenant saw Major Price coming, lit pipe tucked under his mustache, and snapped to attention, placing his hand against his forehead in salute. Price returned the gesture and looked out towards the oncoming group. "Who are our guests, Leftennant?"
"Look like the Russians sir," answered Kingsley as he offered Price the field glasses. Accepting them with a grunt, Price made to raise them when Arhtur added, "And it appears they are accompanied by Leftennat Petrova and Captain Wright."
Price raised a bushy eyebrow before peering through the field glasses and looking over the Red Army soldiers approaching the Commando position before passing them back. "Let's see what they want."
The wait didn't take very long, as a small squad of eight men arrived, stopping a dozen yards from the British before four figures crossed the last distance. Kingsley smiled at two of them, getting a grin back from a slightly limping American and a curt nod from the Russian woman. The Oxford man then turned his attention to the other two men with them, and they were a study in contrasts, the one in front wore a darker coat and sported a trimmed beard, but it was his eyes that Arthur focused on, small and beady, with an unmistakable shark-like gleam to them as he surveyed the Commandos. While shark-eyes was towering, standing above anyone on either side, and had a slim build, the last Russian was built like a bear. Still six feet tall, but stocky, his coat was lighter in color, but his face was deeply lined, and hair cut very short with less adornment on uniform than the taller man. "Captain, Leftennant, you must have quite the story to tell," intoned Price.
The mismatch pair of survivors from the scouting mission exchanged a look, and when Polina pursed her lips and made no effort to speak, Wright answered the question. "We were keeping an eye on the Nova base; the rest of the guys were back in our camp. The Krauts hit them with whatever it is they're cooking up, some sort of poison gas, they never had a chance. Polina had a shot at Freisinger, took it, but didn't quite nail him. We had to bug out, and I got nicked on the way. We hunkered down in a village to east where we met some of Petrova's old comrades."
Kingsley felt his throat tighten at hearing Richard's fate, and was tempted to press the issue, but maintained his composure while Price removed his pipe. "I see," he said before gesturing to the two unknown Russians with his smoking implement, "And who are your friends?"
Now the Soviet Sniper stepped forward, "Major Price, this is regimental commander Podpolkovnik Dragovich and company commander Kapitan Kravchenko. They wish to speak with you and aid in the attack on the German base."
Kingsley blinked, something about Polina's tone was amiss, the usually assertive woman was pensive, and her eyes were casting furtive glances at her fellow Russians. Judging by the look on his face, Wright had noticed the same thing, the American's lips curled into a frown that seemed to go unnoticed by the senior Soviet officers.
The taller one, Dragovich, smiled in a way that didn't reach his eyes and extended a hand, "It is good to meet you, Major Price. Comrade Petrova spoke highly of you and your men." Placing his pipe back in his mouth, the British Commando shook the Russian's hand as Dragovich continued. "I am impressed Major, this is a daring undertaking for you and your men. It would be an honor to offer the aid of my regiment in your mission to destroy this wretched Nazi project, lest it be turned against Mother Russia."
Price nodded, but turned back to Petrova and Wright before speaking, "Do we need it?"
The Marine shrugged, and all eyes fell on Polina, who shifted under the collective weight of all the gazes laid upon her. "The garrison there totaled two SS infantry companies, motorized, with emplaced machine guns, mortars, and anti-tank guns. After discovering our scouting force, they will doubtlessly be on alert."
Dragovich then took a small step forward. "My unit has encountered more Germans, armored units, tank destroyers. They retreated west, towards this facility." Kingsley narrowed his eyes at the Soviet Lieutenant Colonel, something about his tone set the commando's teeth on edge, he seemed much too pleased with himself when speaking of what Jerry had in store, and far too willing to help.
Despite that, a look at the stone-faced Price was a reminder that the No. 63 Commando had already lost one platoon and that things weren't going to get any easier, help was something that could not be passed up lightly. A puff of smoke emerged from the Major's pipe before Price gave a terse nod, "Very well, if you two would follow me, I'll show you what we know."
Dragovich gave a wide grin and happily followed Price, while his stockier subordinate, Kravchenko, kept up his grim-faced façade the trio trudged down the hill and further into the Commando camp. As he watched them go, Kingsley heard the crunching of snow and felt a presence behind him, prompting him to turn and see the grimacing face of the Marine Aviator, "Listen Arthur, I wanted to offer my condolences for Richard, he um… I don't think any of them made it. What the Krauts hit 'em with, that gas, they were all dead before they hit the ground."
It took a substantial effort from the Englishman to swallow the lump that formed in his throat. "All of them?" asked Arthur, prompting a nod back from Curtis. "Damn," he cursed lowly, unable to muster up anything more eloquent with the gnawing that ate at his stomach. Kingsley's eyes turned downcast, and in the corner of them he saw that Wright's trousers had a distinctive splotch on them. "And you? What happened there?" asked the Commando as he looked up at the American.
"What? This?" he asked, gesturing towards his leg. When Arthur nodded, Curtis elaborated, "Caught a round in some excitement last night. Feeling a lot better after she patched me up," while nodding towards a pensive Polina Petrova.
Kingsley blinked in surprise, "Petrova?"
"Before I became a sniper, I was a nurse," she answered distantly, and Kingsley noted her eyes were still tracking Price and his Russian guests. Kingsley pondered what would elicit such a reaction to her own countrymen from Petrova before the woman turned to face him, "We must speak to you privately, Lieutenant Kingsley." Before Arthur could answer, the sharpshooter had turned and strode down one side of the hill, leaving Kingsley to exchange a look with Curtis and get a shrug in reply before the two men set off in pursuit. Polina waved someone else over from the Russian platoon, and Kingsley saw one man separate himself from the others and move towards them.
Once she reached a tree, Polina came to a stop, and the three men following her eyed each other warily, Kingsley could clearly see the heavy set Russian sizing him up. Arthur noted that the bearded man was missing the trigger finger on his right hand, but he still held his submachine gun like he knew how to use it. It was the American who broke the silence, "Arthur, this is Lieutenant Reznov, friend of Petrova's, he's good people," assured Curtis before turning to the woman, "What's eating you Polina?"
"It is this, Project Nova, Freisinger is working on," she began, reaching into her coat and withdrawing a worn sheet of paper. "This is where I first learned of it, a letter I took off a German I killed in Stalingrad. I have never fully understood what it says, however. When I showed it to Dragovich, he seemed very interested."
Wright then tapped on Polina's shoulder and indicated to the letter she held. The Sniper passed the paper to him without a word, and the Marine Aviator began reading it silently.
Arthur quirked an eyebrow, "And why's that a problem?"
Polina didn't reply, instead it was the other Russian, his English wasn't perfect, but his deep gravelly words conveyed a weight nonetheless. "Why fight, comrade?" he asked, looking at Kingsley.
The commando shifted, not wanting to be personal with this foreign stranger, but gave a generic answer. "For King and Country."
It was enough of an answer to get a satisfied nod from Reznov. "Da, for your country, as I fight for Mother Russia. Dragovich, and his lapdog, Kravchenko, are…" he said, trailing off as he searched for the word.
"Opportunists," provided Petrova quietly.
"Da, da, opportunists. Manipulators," picked up Reznov. "These… men," he spat, "Are not soldiers, do not fight for Mother Russia, only themselves. I promise, comrade, that Dragovich is not helping you from goodness of heart."
The Sniper then turned to Reznov, and spoke to him in her native tongue, the man replying in kind before placing a hand on her shoulder and speaking again. Polina nodded and said some parting words before the big man turned and went back to join his men. With him gone, Polina looked back at Kingsley. "Dragovich cannot have Nova," asserted Polina, "Arthur, we must destroy it. No matter what Price or anyone else might say."
Arthur was pensive, and his indecision must've shown on his face because Curtis looked up from the letter and spoke, "Arthur, you didn't see what that shit did to people." The Marine's tone was grim and expression dark, "If what's being talked about in this is what those fuckers cooked up, it needs to burn."
"I can talk to Price about it," answered Arthur softly, stomach twisting itself into knots at the tone of both the American and Russian.
"Do so," replied Petrova, "And remember, Dragovich is not to be trusted."
No. 63 Commando Rendezvous Point
3 miles from Project Nova Facility
1221 Hours, January 14, 1945
It had been some time since Polina had eaten Red Army rations, and as she finished the last of the stew provided by the field kitchens of the Russian infantry company, she set the bowl aside and retrieved one of her American cigarettes. Slipping it between her lips, Petrova was about to reach for her lighter when one was offered to her by the man sitting beside her under a tree. Polina nodded to Curtis as he gave her a light and snapped close his Zippo. "How was your lunch? Remind you of home?" asked the Marine Aviator.
Taking a drag from the tobacco, Polina let out a small puff of smoke, "It reminded me of a different time and place. One I am not sure I wish to return to." Such an answer would normally be hard to admit, yet Polina found it came easily when speaking with the Marine Fighter Ace. A smile crossed her face unbidden as she turned to face Curtis and asked, "What of you? Do you wish to return to America?" Wright answered with a nod as he lit up his own cigarette, prompting Petrova to pry a little more, "What do you miss about it?"
While Wright furrowed his eyebrows, Polina's mind was drawn back to early that morning, the moment they had shared in the cabin. Petrova's heart warmed at the memory of her lips on his, and being with him since then had not diminished the attraction, and she was about to wonder if another moment like that would come about when the sound of his voice pulled her from her thoughts. "My ma's apple pie," he said simply.
The Russian woman blinked in surprise. She had been expecting something… more idealistic, or patriotic, not so mundane as food. Wright smiled at her, distracting the Sniper before he elaborated, "I never got any when I was back home on leave, rationing and all that. I still got a buncha good memories of sitting around the table with ma, pa, and… and my brother. After years of Marine cooking, Navy cooking, Army cooking, now Russian cooking, and, worst of all, British cooking, the thing I want most is some home cooking."
Nodding in understanding, Polina inhaled deeply on her cigarette, knowing that she would miss the luxury after this mission was over. "What will you do then?" asked Petrova before her eyes shimmered, "After you have eaten?"
A small bark of laughter emanated from the Daredevil pilot before he shrugged, "Dunno, not for sure. I'll probably leave the Corps, but besides that? Not a clue. I'd like to still fly, assuming I still can," he drawled as he tapped his injured leg.
"I hope you will. I wish you to be supporting me… the attack on Freisinger," corrected Polina, but a look at the grinning Marine made it plain her slip up had been noticed.
Before Curtis could reply, a commando jogged up and saluted, "Sir, the Major wishes to speak with you before I drive you back to Checkmate."
"I'll be right there," answered Curtis as the British trooper nodded and turned away. Polina let out a breath as Wright looked at her, "Good hunting tomorrow Polina. Save some for us men, okay?" he said with a slight grin.
In response, the Soviet Sharpshooter leaned in and planted a quick peck on his surprised lips, "And you survive. I wish to see you again after we are through with Freisinger, Daredevil."
Curtis chuckled, "I must be crazy, 'cause I'd like that, Lady Death."
Polina stood first and helped Curtis to his feet before he set off, moving better than he had been as he made for one of the British Jeeps. Despite being sad to watch the Marine leave, Polina slung her rifle over her shoulder before collecting the tins the pair had eaten lunch out of and headed for the Red Army's company kitchen, ignoring the stares she drew from the men as she deposited the eating utensils. Turning around to head back for the Commando camp, Petrova was soon intercepted by a familiar and not unfriendly face. "It will be good to fight at your side once more, Lady Death," said Reznov, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder, "Come, come, you must tell me what sort of comrades these Englishmen are," he declared before steering Polina away from her intended path.
Petrova frowned and shook the man's hand from her shoulder, but followed Reznov regardless, noting that there were still eyes upon her as they walked to the edge of the Red Army camp. "Dimitri!" called out Reznov, and a man Polina judged to be about her age emerged from the group, scraggy, patched facial hair covering a chubby face, but his eyes were hard and he bore the look of a veteran. "Dimitri, this is Polina Petrova, Lady Death herself," introduced Reznov as Polina gave Dimitri a curt nod. "Polina, this is Dimitri Petrenko, my platoon sergeant. He has been by my side since Stalingrad. Time and again, he has cheated death. As long as he lives, the spirit of this army cannot be broken!" boasted the grizzled veteran as Petrnko offered a small smile.
Once introductions had been made, Reznov pulled the group closer together and spoke lowly, "Dimitri, I wish to have some words with Polina in private. Can you dissuade any prying eyes for a few minutes?"
"Da Reznov," replied Dimitri, getting a pat on the back from the Lieutenant before Polina and Viktor moved even further away from the other Soviet soldiers.
Once they were comfortably out of earshot from all others except Reznov's platoon did Petrova speak, "What is the meaning of this Viktor?"
"It is Dragovich," he spat, not attempting to hide his contempt. "He has made plain his distrust of the British, and distaste for those who would collaborate with them. We are not encouraged to be friendly with them."
Petrova's eyebrows furrowed, "But why?"
"Dragovich wishes to grow his personal influence, and a victory over the Fascists and the Imperialists? It would do much to put him in favor of those in high command. And if he can deliver them Nova as well…."
"That cannot be allowed," hissed Polina, cutting off the older man. "I will make that plain upon my return, and I believe they will agree. I have already spoken to one whom I trust, he is a good man, and he will support me."
Reznov nodded, his expression clearly relieved, but he then frowned once again, "There is one other thing to discuss. You."
"Me?" replied Petrova dumbly.
"Da. I very much doubt your reputation will protect you from Dragovich's reprisal, Polina Petrova," said Reznov seriously. "Now that he knows that you have collaborated with them, it is possible he will make an example of you."
Shocked at the revelation, Polina's eyes looked past Reznov, searching for Dragovich while her mind began formulating the words she wished to say to him at that moment. "Don't," intoned Reznov, his voice firm, but with an undertone of regret, "When these Nazis have been dealt with, do not join us. Perhaps another unit, but we will not fight together after this, Polina."
Silence reigned between them for a moment as Petrova gathered her thoughts, and then she came to a decision and smiled at her old comrade and said, "If that is so, then know it has been an honor."
"Likewise."
Objective Checkmate
Occupied Airfield 4 miles Northwest of Greifswald, Germany
1747 Hours, January 14, 1945
"So that's his plan then?" asked Rork.
Wright sighed and nodded, before glancing around the table at the other three fighter pilots, whom looked unphased by his message.
The CO of the Battlehawks broke the silence. "Then we'll have a busy day tomorrow gentlemen, especially if Nemesis makes an appearance. I'll speak to Lyle about getting RP-3s and HVARs fitted to our aircraft. The night is yours, just report to your planes no later than 0600 tomorrow morning."
When the Group Captain departed the small cabin in which the pilots had met, leaving the other three with lukewarm coffee, and it was the other Englishman, Trevor, spoke next. "It seems as if Jerry gave you some excitement. Will you be ready to fly tomorrow, Yank?" asked the Spitfire pilot with a gleam in his eye.
"I'm from Missouri," corrected the Corsair flyer with a small grin, but his hand was idly rubbing his wounded leg, feeling the pain of his wound. "And it'll take more than this to stop me from going up with you fellas. Trust me, this ain't nothing compared to my other injury, barely a scratch really." Forcing down another draught of the bitter brew, Curtis continued, "And trust me, next time I get shot at, I'd much rather have my airplane around me."
"Quite right old chap," agreed Trevor as he leaned back in his chair.
"I must be the only one here who hasn't been shot down," muttered Chase, earning the Mustang pilot a pair of sharp looks from the other Battlehawks. "It has been a while since we've worked with Russians, hasn't it? Stalingrad, I think?"
"Stalingrad?" asked Curtis as he leaned in, unaware his new squadron mates had participated in the same battle as Petrova.
Chase nodded, "We went out there back in, oh, January '43 I think. Nemesis was testing out a new prototype. The Junkers 390, I think it was."
"They called it the Amerikabomber, as I recall," supplied Trevor.
Marvelous, mused Curtis internally while Chase resumed the story, "We supported a push on the Nemesis airfield, flew with a few of their Sturmoviks, one of which was flown by a lovely woman named Lilia. Tough birds those, but they can't turn worth a damn. If Nemesis fighters show up then it could be a bloodbath."
"Then we'd better do our part quick so we can cover 'em," answered Wright. The Marine finished the rest of his coffee, "Personally? I hope they do come."
"Krieger and his lot aren't an incompetent lot, they'll know something is amiss. I expect to be quite busy tomorrow," assured Trevor as he stood. "It's good to have you back Captain Wright," said the Briton before departing, leaving just the two Americans.
Cracking a grin and turning towards Chase, Wright asked the Mustang pilot, "My plane hasn't iced over or nothing while I was gone?"
Chase shook his head, "Lyle kept an eye on it. It's not like we did much more with ours. Just kept two warm in case we got found out. Krauts never did though, so we've mostly just been sitting on our asses while you almost got yours shot off," he replied with a grin.
Chuckling, the Daredevil stood, not feeling much more than a dull ache in his leg. "Well I'm going to go check on my girl for the big day. Wanna make sure I dish out a little payback tomorrow."
"Just leave some for the rest of us."
No. 63 Commando Rendezvous Point
3 miles from Project Nova Facility
1938 Hours, January 14, 1945
Lieutenant Arthur Kingsley had finished passing along the plan for the following days attack to his platoon and was satisfied that his men would be ready. Now, the Oxford man was striding back across the Commando encampment towards the command tent where Major Price was, wishing to speak to his CO about one element of the attack on the Project Nova facility that hadn't been discussed at the briefing earlier that afternoon. Arriving at the olive drab canvas shelter, Kingsley mentally rehearsed what he wanted to say before pushing back the flap and poking his head inside. "Permission to enter, sir?"
Price removed the cigar from his mouth and looked up from his maps, "Granted." Kingsley stepped inside of the tent, and noted that the maps Price was looking at were of their withdrawal back to Checkmate before the Major addressed him. "Go ahead, leftennnant."
After clearing his throat, Arthur took a deep breath and said, "What are our orders pertaining to records or samples of Project Nova?"
Price's cigar went back into his mouth, the Major chewing on it for a moment before meeting Kingsley's gaze. "You have concerns," he stated, and then puffing on his tobacco before asking, "Dragovich?"
"Lieutenant Petrova brought her concerns of the man's trustworthiness to me. Seemed prudent to pass them up the chain, sir," answered Kingsley. "Since we are to be the first inside, I request that we destroy every trace of the project."
Crossing his arms, Price pulled out a map depicting of the area around the Project Nova site, complete with the hastily drawn markings to show German defensive positions and the planned attacks. "That's not feasible, leftennant, under no circumstances can we allow for the release of the poison gas. We're not prepared to handle this threat, so any method that might result in its release is off the table."
"And what if the gas isn't there?" pressed Kingsley, but all he got in reply was a raised eyebrow. "Freisinger is working with that Luftwaffe office, Kreiger. According to our pilots, Kreiger has worked on Jerry's V-2 rocket and long range bomber programs." The dark skinned man pointed at the map, "Since Nova is… operational," bit out Arthur, "And this base has no means to deploy it, they'll need to move the gas somewhere in order to use it. An airfield or V-2 launch site."
The cigar shifted once again as Price nodded, "Any information on those could be valuable intelligence, secure any documents we can, which should also keep them away from our esteemed allies from the east." The last words came out as a barely audible murmurer. "Will that be all, leftennant?"
Kingsley shook his head, "There is one more thing sir, according to Lieutenant Petrova, the lead German scientist on Project Nova is one Doctor Friedrich Steiner. It might be best to confirm his whereabouts."
"How does she know all of this?" asked Price, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"A letter, taken off a sniper she killed in Stalingrad. Steiner's nephew, in fact. Captain Wright confirmed its contents," explained Kingsley. "It was a thank you note from Freisinginer, thanking the nephew for bringing the work of his uncle, Doctor Steiner, to the attention of the SS, who then supported it. That became Project Nova, the development a new type of poison gas, called a 'Nerve Agent.'"
"Marvelous," intoned Price as he worked his jaw and looked over the maps again, "Tomorrow ought to be right bloody exciting then."
Closing Notes: Just a quick sort of set up for the next chapter, and some blatant fanservice with some more classic CoD characters, though we won't see much more of them beyond this. Still, I wanted to have a bit of fun and bridge the gap between all the games in a way that would have been cool to see in Vanguard. Hope you all enjoyed, and the next chapter will be up in two weeks.