Operation Vanguard: Begin Operations
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[b]July 16th, 1940.[/b]In the past few years German and the Nazi's had made it seem like the Treaty of Versailles had never happend, and they had never been defeated. They had conquered Poland, Czechoslovakia, Austria, and Belgium. In mere months they had forced the French to surrender, and driven the British back to their isle. Their armies seemed unstoppable, a tidal wave of guns, tanks, infantry, and aeroplanes that tore throw whatever obstacle was put in it's way. The victories that future generations would speak of in reverence were pipe-dreams at this point. Defeat seemed inevitable, but even so people kept hope that the tide could turn. So it was natural that Sway watched the skies with great anxiety, and it occurred to him he was probably the only Brit who was hoping to see a plane today. He could only imagine the scene over his home, as Messerschmitts and Spit-fires danced in the skies.
He checked his watch, it was a quarter past ten in the morning, he took another puff from his cigarette and let the nicotine buzz run for a second before taking the cigarette out to talk to the robot who had been ignoring him for the most part. The two of them had been standing on the field for the better part of an hour, waiting for the planes to come. During that entire time the robot, known as Bolshevik, had yet to talk to him once. Sway wasn't sure if Bolshevik didn't like him, or it his metal body simply made him seem stand-offish.
" It's rather chilly for mid-july, isn't it?" Sway asked, trying to coax some small talk out of Bolshevik. This was true however, despite being summer the temperature was still at the freezing point.
"This is Northern Russia." Bolshevik responded, quick, terse, almost as if he was reminding a 70 year old dementia patient where he was.
"Right." Sway decided to not to attempt any further small talk, though briefly considered trying to engage the robot on the topic of Karl Marx, before, then wisely decided to just wait for the planes to come. So their they stood, a Communist robot and a British occultist, waiting for an American PI, a Canadian magi-technician, a French entertainer, a British Pilot, a Texan boxer, and a farmer from South Ontario. These were the ones chosen to be Vanguards.
Alright so we begin, some quick notes.
-Have your characters arrive whenever you are ready to post.
-Unless it makes sense otherwise, assume they are arriving by plane. Besides the pilots they are the only ones on the plane.
-The Battle of Britain has been going on for 1-6 days at this point. (It depends on how you define a battle as starting).
-It has been an abnormally cold Summer in the Murmansk Oblast, temperatures have stayed around freezing.
And finally:
-HAVE FUN!
You may begin posting whenever in the RP whenever you would like to.
-Have your characters arrive whenever you are ready to post.
-Unless it makes sense otherwise, assume they are arriving by plane. Besides the pilots they are the only ones on the plane.
-The Battle of Britain has been going on for 1-6 days at this point. (It depends on how you define a battle as starting).
-It has been an abnormally cold Summer in the Murmansk Oblast, temperatures have stayed around freezing.
And finally:
-HAVE FUN!
You may begin posting whenever in the RP whenever you would like to.
Darryl gazed out the window on the opposite end of the plane to the snowy sky. Before he had left home he got together what money he could to buy a thicker coat, he now wondered if that would even come close to keeping him warm enough. Darryl tried to not let this thought take away from his first ever airplane ride. The plane shook slightly and Darryl gripped his seat-belt until it passed.
"Think I'll take the boat back..." Darryl thought.
"We'll be landing in ten," said the pilot from up front.
Darryl nodded at the pilot then checked his luggage. He had managed to fit some clothes and his personal effects into a large duffel bag. His only other luggage was a case that held his gauntlets. It looked like a black briefcase with metal on the edges and several locks. He had thought of taking his trumpet too, but figured he wouldn't be using it. Darryl considered wearing the gauntlets to keep his hands warm, but instead fished out a pair of leather gloves from his other bag. The scenery outside the window changed somewhat as they landed, but the snow stayed just as thick. The co-pilot got up and opened the plane's door as Darryl put on his coat's hood and picked up his bags.
"Mr. Sterling will meet you over there," the co-pilot said, pointing to where Darryl could see two people standing.
"Right, thanks," Darryl said. He thought he heard the co-pilot mutter something else, but couldn't hear over the sudden wind gust. Darryl walked down the stairs and off the plane. He headed towards the two men already there, avoiding a small patch of ice as he did. When he got close enough to see them clearly, he saw that one was very tall with some kind of audio device on his neck and the other wore a silver mask.
"This is going to be interesting," Darryl thought.
"Mr. Sterling?" Darryl asked, to either of them, trying to figure out who was who.
"Think I'll take the boat back..." Darryl thought.
"We'll be landing in ten," said the pilot from up front.
Darryl nodded at the pilot then checked his luggage. He had managed to fit some clothes and his personal effects into a large duffel bag. His only other luggage was a case that held his gauntlets. It looked like a black briefcase with metal on the edges and several locks. He had thought of taking his trumpet too, but figured he wouldn't be using it. Darryl considered wearing the gauntlets to keep his hands warm, but instead fished out a pair of leather gloves from his other bag. The scenery outside the window changed somewhat as they landed, but the snow stayed just as thick. The co-pilot got up and opened the plane's door as Darryl put on his coat's hood and picked up his bags.
"Mr. Sterling will meet you over there," the co-pilot said, pointing to where Darryl could see two people standing.
"Right, thanks," Darryl said. He thought he heard the co-pilot mutter something else, but couldn't hear over the sudden wind gust. Darryl walked down the stairs and off the plane. He headed towards the two men already there, avoiding a small patch of ice as he did. When he got close enough to see them clearly, he saw that one was very tall with some kind of audio device on his neck and the other wore a silver mask.
"This is going to be interesting," Darryl thought.
"Mr. Sterling?" Darryl asked, to either of them, trying to figure out who was who.
Mr. Sterling stepped forward and extended his right hand to Darryl, " I am, this is our Soviet representative, Bolshevik," He motioned to Bolshevik with his left hand. "Darryl Sitton I presume, we are pleased that you made it, I trust the flight wasn't too rough. You're assistance will help write history. I'll have more to say once you are all here, in the mean time feel free to wander. I've set up a lounge with amenities in the flight-control building if you'd like. Just please be back when the sixth plane touches down. Have any questions?"
JR yawned as the Lisunov Li-2 droned through the frigid Russian skies. Man I need to take a piss. His thoughts were interrupted by the approach of a Red Air force sergeant. "There is problem comrade." The man said through a heavy accent. "Airfield is...uh...too cloudy, we cannot land. We return to Arkhangelsk and try again when weather is better." Standing, JR stretched as much as he could in the confided space, trying to work the stiffness out of his limbs.
"Tell me friend" he said. "Are we near Murmansk?"
"Da, we are over the field now."
"Well then, give the pilot my regards, and thanks for the lift" Before the sergeant could react, JR strode to the rear of the plane, opened the passenger door, and jumped out.
The icy wind tore at him like a demon, trying to separate him from his clothes. Doing his best to ignore the cold and wind, he began to concentrate on tapping into the energy in the air around him, pulling it to him and creating a 'cushion' between him and the ground. As the cushion got thicker he began to slow his decent, until he was falling no faster than a man running. Unfortunately as the runway came into view, he realized he'd forgot to adjust for his forward momentum as well, and was still moving horizontally at a great pace.
Adjusting his 'cushion', he hit the tarmac like he'd just jumped from a moving train, rolling a few times before ending, face up on the ground. "Well perhaps I should think that through a bit more next time" he muttered, as he got to his feet. Spotting a couple of people near the edge of the runway he made his way over, taking his hat from his coat and placing it on his head. "Hey," he said sticking out a hand. "My names John Richard Wayland, but everyone calls me JR."
"Tell me friend" he said. "Are we near Murmansk?"
"Da, we are over the field now."
"Well then, give the pilot my regards, and thanks for the lift" Before the sergeant could react, JR strode to the rear of the plane, opened the passenger door, and jumped out.
The icy wind tore at him like a demon, trying to separate him from his clothes. Doing his best to ignore the cold and wind, he began to concentrate on tapping into the energy in the air around him, pulling it to him and creating a 'cushion' between him and the ground. As the cushion got thicker he began to slow his decent, until he was falling no faster than a man running. Unfortunately as the runway came into view, he realized he'd forgot to adjust for his forward momentum as well, and was still moving horizontally at a great pace.
Adjusting his 'cushion', he hit the tarmac like he'd just jumped from a moving train, rolling a few times before ending, face up on the ground. "Well perhaps I should think that through a bit more next time" he muttered, as he got to his feet. Spotting a couple of people near the edge of the runway he made his way over, taking his hat from his coat and placing it on his head. "Hey," he said sticking out a hand. "My names John Richard Wayland, but everyone calls me JR."
Sway took a quick double-take as JR landed and began walking up. Regardless he returned the man's hand-shake, " I am Mr. Sterling, JR it is a pleasure to have you here, and I also agree, parachutes are an incredible inconvenience. If it's any consolation, hitting the air-strip from an aeroplane was quite a feat. I'll have something to say once you're all here. In the mean time please relax, we have amenities inside."
"I was going to ask if there was somewhere to get out of the cold actually, but I guess you've got that-" Darryl was cut off by a thudding sound behind him. "Covered..." he said, finishing his sentence as he turned around and saw a man rolling then getting up. Then Darryl looked upwards and could vaguely see the outline of a plane. He then realized what had happened.
"This just keeps getting better," Darryl thought. He attempted to brush some snow off of his coat, but finding that useless, he started to head inside with his luggage.
"This just keeps getting better," Darryl thought. He attempted to brush some snow off of his coat, but finding that useless, he started to head inside with his luggage.
Rubbing his hands together Claude gets up out of his seat hoping that a spot near the cockpit will be a bit warmer. Every few seconds like clockwork the plane shakes when the next rumble comes he grabs onto a nearby seat. Claude stops for a moment to warm his hands breathing into them before rubbing them together.
"And here I thought Detroit in the winter was cold, this place must be hell frozen over come Christmas." Claude says aloud hoping to get some conversation time with one of the pilots as he takes a seat close to the cockpit.
"We have the O.K. to land so you'll wanna buckle up fella, Mr. Sterling wants you ready to go not in the infirmary." Shouts the co-pilot over the sounds of the plane and weather.
In twenty minutes they landed and Claude found himself out on the Russian front
"I came here to fight krauts not frostbite!" quickly shouted as Claude strapped his iron and club to his belt. He was then lead over to a man speaking to another man on the tarmac.
"I was told you were Mr. Sterling." Stated with just a hint of confusion.
"And here I thought Detroit in the winter was cold, this place must be hell frozen over come Christmas." Claude says aloud hoping to get some conversation time with one of the pilots as he takes a seat close to the cockpit.
"We have the O.K. to land so you'll wanna buckle up fella, Mr. Sterling wants you ready to go not in the infirmary." Shouts the co-pilot over the sounds of the plane and weather.
In twenty minutes they landed and Claude found himself out on the Russian front
"I came here to fight krauts not frostbite!" quickly shouted as Claude strapped his iron and club to his belt. He was then lead over to a man speaking to another man on the tarmac.
"I was told you were Mr. Sterling." Stated with just a hint of confusion.
Darryl wasn't the only passenger on his small plane. In the interests of conserving space and fuel, Danse joined him on the trip, although the slender pyrokineticist had made himself scarce for the majority of the journey, ostensibly due to some fear of heights. Danse, normally quite charming and chatty, spent the time shuddering and shivering under a blanket in the back of the plane, thus remaining distressingly out of sight for the entire trip.
Even after they landed and Darryl disembarked, the pile of blankets remained unmoving until the copilot, concerned, stepped over to gently poke it. "Wake up. We're here."
Finally, a blonde-haired and pale-skinned head peered out. Danse gave him a grateful look, a brief apology, and rose to reveal a rather unimpressive figure swathed in a parka. The pyro stepped off the plane soon afterwards, blinking at the change in light and shuddering from the cold. Ah, but an audience...
Danse put on a good show of confidence, almost strutting on over to the other Vanguard members and putting on a sly grin as he glanced each over. "Well -well-," he began, in a high, pleasant, and faintly French-accented voice. English was his weakest language, but he was still quite good at it, especially when viewed as something for the stage. "What a -pleasure- to see you all at last. I'm Danse, and I suppose the term for me might be... commando, was it? Stealth agent? Vot -iz- ze word?"
Even after they landed and Darryl disembarked, the pile of blankets remained unmoving until the copilot, concerned, stepped over to gently poke it. "Wake up. We're here."
Finally, a blonde-haired and pale-skinned head peered out. Danse gave him a grateful look, a brief apology, and rose to reveal a rather unimpressive figure swathed in a parka. The pyro stepped off the plane soon afterwards, blinking at the change in light and shuddering from the cold. Ah, but an audience...
Danse put on a good show of confidence, almost strutting on over to the other Vanguard members and putting on a sly grin as he glanced each over. "Well -well-," he began, in a high, pleasant, and faintly French-accented voice. English was his weakest language, but he was still quite good at it, especially when viewed as something for the stage. "What a -pleasure- to see you all at last. I'm Danse, and I suppose the term for me might be... commando, was it? Stealth agent? Vot -iz- ze word?"
I draw stuff sometimes. Including, evidently, Danse.
Darryl entered the lounge. He quickly spotted a chair and put his luggage near it. He also unzipped his coat, finding the lounge to be much warmer. Darryl also saw a coffeemaker and quickly poured himself a cup.
"I hate the cold," he muttered out loud as he sipped, to no one in particular. He sat down in the chair he put his luggage beside and it gave him a clear view of the landing strip and the other team members.
"I'm going to be the only black person here aren't I..." Darryl thought. He shrugged and finished his coffee, deciding to stay here until the last of the team arrived.
"I hate the cold," he muttered out loud as he sipped, to no one in particular. He sat down in the chair he put his luggage beside and it gave him a clear view of the landing strip and the other team members.
"I'm going to be the only black person here aren't I..." Darryl thought. He shrugged and finished his coffee, deciding to stay here until the last of the team arrived.
Brian approached the airfield in his Spitfire Supermarine, he had played a little bit with the Kriegsmarine and the Luftwaffe on his way through Norway and Sweden stopping and getting refueled from the resistance there. Luckily they were holding the Jerry's fairly well up there so his fun only lead to a few holes in his plane. Between these two stops and a healthy tailwind he was able to land at the Russian airfield. The oddity of his plane got him clearance fairly quickly and he pulled onto the runway the other oddities in the Russian winter were standing at. He parked the plane at its proper spot on the airfield before hoping out and walking over to the small group.
"Greetings chaps, fine day for a fly isn't it?" He said with a broad smile on his face.
"Greetings chaps, fine day for a fly isn't it?" He said with a broad smile on his face.
With the skill of a master host Sway greeted the three new arrival's in order.
"And so I am," He said as he shook the American's hand," and you are Claude Glass, we're glad to see you,"
"Mika Desmrias I assume," Sway said as he turned his attention, " I am Mr. Sterling, you look cold, you should head inside we have hot coffee and tea. All will be explain once all the recruits have arrived."
"Brian Macintyre, it is good to see the trip wasn't too difficult, obviously those German's weren't" Sway had noticed the bullet holes in wings as soon as the Spit-fire had come to a stop. He the turned to address all three.
"We are waiting for one more right now, he should arrive shortly, in the mean time, please enjoy the amenities provided."
"And so I am," He said as he shook the American's hand," and you are Claude Glass, we're glad to see you,"
"Mika Desmrias I assume," Sway said as he turned his attention, " I am Mr. Sterling, you look cold, you should head inside we have hot coffee and tea. All will be explain once all the recruits have arrived."
"Brian Macintyre, it is good to see the trip wasn't too difficult, obviously those German's weren't" Sway had noticed the bullet holes in wings as soon as the Spit-fire had come to a stop. He the turned to address all three.
"We are waiting for one more right now, he should arrive shortly, in the mean time, please enjoy the amenities provided."
"The Jerry's were having a few too many problems of their own to worry about me. Seems their engineering just isn't all it was cracked up to be. Almost like I never even needed to fire a shot to take them down." Brian replied, the smile not leaving his face for a second.
"Good to meet you Mr. Sterling." JR said to the masked man. "Now I'll take my leave as it where, and try and go warm up." Turning towards the lounge he made his way inside, nodding to the young black man as he entered. "Hi the names JR. What brought you to the frozen ass end of nowhere?" Taking a sip of coffee he grimaced. Just as bad as I thought...fuck these kids make me feel so old.
"...and so I told that guy, 'I'm not interested in adopting your litter of puppies, I can barely pay alimony...'"
Will this guy ever shut up?
Arthur Hicks wondered, several miles above the frozen Russian tundra. Art has been the victim of the pilot's rambling for the better part of a long trip despite Art's best attempts to ignore him. The cold didn't help at all. If he was in a fight, he would welcome the cold with open arms. Sitting in the cabin of a shoddy plane, on the other hand, it's just an annoyance
Willing to try anything to end the pilot's story, Art asked how much longer until they landed.
"We are just about to start our descent. Twenty minutes, tops."
Thank god. Any longer and I might have to jump.
With Arthur's special gift, he might survive the improvised landing. His gift is an ability to control his Flight or Fight Reflex, or more specifically, his adrenaline output. With a few seconds of preparation, Art can bend a steel girder in half, receive a beating that would kill a lesser man, and react with cat-like reflexes. All of which helped Art to be successful with a short professional boxing career, illegal underground fighs, and be an intimidating thug for anyone who can afford him.
Thirty minutes and three aggravating stories later, the plane touched ground. Unbuckling, Art made his way to the cargo bay to get his packages. With a large wooden box in hand and a pilot to his back yelling he'll catch up with Art after he wins the war, Arthur walks toward the only person who looks like they belong here.
"Hey there, Arthur Hicks at your service, but you can call me Art. You must be Mr. Sterling." Looking over the mechanical man next to him, Art chuckled. "No one tole me that the Tin Man would be here. Where's Dorothy?"
Will this guy ever shut up?
Arthur Hicks wondered, several miles above the frozen Russian tundra. Art has been the victim of the pilot's rambling for the better part of a long trip despite Art's best attempts to ignore him. The cold didn't help at all. If he was in a fight, he would welcome the cold with open arms. Sitting in the cabin of a shoddy plane, on the other hand, it's just an annoyance
Willing to try anything to end the pilot's story, Art asked how much longer until they landed.
"We are just about to start our descent. Twenty minutes, tops."
Thank god. Any longer and I might have to jump.
With Arthur's special gift, he might survive the improvised landing. His gift is an ability to control his Flight or Fight Reflex, or more specifically, his adrenaline output. With a few seconds of preparation, Art can bend a steel girder in half, receive a beating that would kill a lesser man, and react with cat-like reflexes. All of which helped Art to be successful with a short professional boxing career, illegal underground fighs, and be an intimidating thug for anyone who can afford him.
Thirty minutes and three aggravating stories later, the plane touched ground. Unbuckling, Art made his way to the cargo bay to get his packages. With a large wooden box in hand and a pilot to his back yelling he'll catch up with Art after he wins the war, Arthur walks toward the only person who looks like they belong here.
"Hey there, Arthur Hicks at your service, but you can call me Art. You must be Mr. Sterling." Looking over the mechanical man next to him, Art chuckled. "No one tole me that the Tin Man would be here. Where's Dorothy?"
"Probably the same thing that brought you here," Darryl answered. "I got a letter and, honestly, I just wanted to see how it would all turn out. Oh, and I got out of my plane on the ground, so I guess it's not exactly the same,"
At Hicks' question, Danse half-laughed. "I guess I'll be Dorothy. Who's the Lion? You?" Then, his attention returned to Sterling, as it aught to have remained. "Oui, ser. Thank you."
Danse quickly-- perhaps with a bit more haste than his show would indicate-- hurried into the building, pausing just inside the eaves to shiver a tad. He watched Darryl and JR for a moment before resuming the show, gliding over to snag a mug of hot tea and taking a seat not far away from Darryl.
Danse offered a pleasant grin. "Hallo," his voice slipping briefly into a feminine inflection albeit with a German accent. "Ve vehr on ze same plane, but I never got ze chance to speak vith you.. I'm Danse. Und hyu two gentlemen..?"
The canny-eyed might notice that he's huddled around the steaming tea mug a little more closely than most people would be, even considering the chill in the air. Danse was really suffering in this weather.
Danse quickly-- perhaps with a bit more haste than his show would indicate-- hurried into the building, pausing just inside the eaves to shiver a tad. He watched Darryl and JR for a moment before resuming the show, gliding over to snag a mug of hot tea and taking a seat not far away from Darryl.
Danse offered a pleasant grin. "Hallo," his voice slipping briefly into a feminine inflection albeit with a German accent. "Ve vehr on ze same plane, but I never got ze chance to speak vith you.. I'm Danse. Und hyu two gentlemen..?"
The canny-eyed might notice that he's huddled around the steaming tea mug a little more closely than most people would be, even considering the chill in the air. Danse was really suffering in this weather.
JR had to laugh at Darryl's response. "Well fair enough, but if I'd stayed in that damned fool contraption I'd be on my way to Archangel. The bloody pilot didn't want to land, and I was sick of freezing my ass off."
"I'm Danse. Und hyu two gentlemen..?"
"Guten tag Danse, I'm JR" he said, looking at the new arrival. "Are you alright?" Due to his abilities, whenever JR looked at someone he could sense the energy field produced by the human body. In Danse's case it seemed to be weak and fluctuating. Well some people really just can't handle the cold I guess.
"I'm Danse. Und hyu two gentlemen..?"
"Guten tag Danse, I'm JR" he said, looking at the new arrival. "Are you alright?" Due to his abilities, whenever JR looked at someone he could sense the energy field produced by the human body. In Danse's case it seemed to be weak and fluctuating. Well some people really just can't handle the cold I guess.
"You were on the plane too?" Darryl asked, a little disturbed by the idea that there was someone else on the plane that he didn't even know about, but then, he did have other things on his mind at the time. Darryl noticed Danse's condition and muttered quietly "I guess you enjoyed the flight as much as I did..."
Looking about at the people talking back and forth Claude couldn't help but that much more intrigued as to what this group could to together.
"With people like us I think we can have the war over by Christmas." Claude says thinking aloud as he grabs his bag and heads inside only to be greeted by more people.
"I'm guessing this is the rest of the group then?" Claude asks dropping his bag as near the door and greeting the closes person.
"Claude Glass P.I., It's a pleasure to meet you." Hand reaching forward as he makes his introduction.
"With people like us I think we can have the war over by Christmas." Claude says thinking aloud as he grabs his bag and heads inside only to be greeted by more people.
"I'm guessing this is the rest of the group then?" Claude asks dropping his bag as near the door and greeting the closes person.
"Claude Glass P.I., It's a pleasure to meet you." Hand reaching forward as he makes his introduction.