Post by adrini on Apr 18, 2016 15:45:14 GMT -5
When we left our heroes…
Charles is put on leave, too see if his sight will heal. When it becomes clear that it won’t be returning the cogs of the army move to have him removed.
Scott steps into stop the transfer, citing Charles’ close ties to be resistance. His new disability is hidden by the SOE. Unable to work with his team as much he befriends an owl, who seems to simply move in.
The second wave of German air attacks have begun, and the civilian body count is just as staggering as feared. Without the intel they have little defense. The war needs the northern system to do its job.
The SOE sends a tech specialist, Lt. Harris, to help build the radio contacts across the coast. A young American woman, she and Tyler team up to make this war easier. Visiting the Bar Tyler, Blake and Trever work with Maurice to set up the radio. Tyler takes a few items for Charles, hoping to make up for his talking to Vichy.
In Ruen the remains of the Northern Network is in hiding – and hurt. Several have already been killed. Taking a last shot to get her team out Song Bird sneaks out and makes it to a local radio tower. She gets the message out but the lead was a trap, and she’s taken.
The camp moves to rescue the French resistance team. Moving carefully they see that the guards have been sedated, and the resistance have been treated. Sneaking out together McNider, Blake and Trever had been left out. Together they use their knowledge of the area. They clear out the others, and track down the Colonel. The dark house might Fstop someone else but McNider has a new skill – he can see in the dark now. He makes his way and tracks Song Bird down.
Song Bird has been hurt, but they move quickly and get out. She grabs files that have been used to track members. They have to track the Colonel’s system if she is to repair her own.
The resistance team has to heal before she can go to work. And the Colonel’s own secret team has to be taken out. The north cannot reactivate until they do.
“Colonel McSweeney, tell me the tent is up.” Scott said as he ran ahead of the oncoming line of stretchers.
“Yes, indeed. I didn’t expect quite so many. It will be tight quarters.” The first of the bodies went by, clearly dressed infirst aid but needing serious help. “Did they find the leader?”
“No, she left to send us the message but didn’t make it back. Once we get these set it’ll be the next mission.” Scott moved out of the way as Tyler and Carter rushed with a seriously hurt older woman. The sight was sobering.
The SOE operator said nothing but nodded. The bodies moved past, the British and American medics quickly moving to help. They we having trouble keeping up, making this worse.
“Even if he can’t see, a blind man can still take questions.” McSweeney said, seeing himself that they needed help. “He is the most qualified surgeon here.”
“Do what you can here, sir.” Scott said, peeling away. “I’ll be right back.”
The temporary medical tent was just north of the air field, and the camp medical building was in the south. In the time it took to sprint Allen’s head spun, the point of this mission was to find Song Bird. Not just to help the war effort but to give Charles something to cling to. He had no idea how he was going to break the news.
Diana was sitting at the entrance of the building, it was her normal position after missions. A beer in one hand and smoke in the other. She nodded as he got there, and nodded to the chaos nearby.
“Sounds like you had luck. What’s the count?” She saw he was in a rush and put the cig out.
“Almost thirty. The missing agents.” He said and she nodded. “How is he, there might be a better time.”
“Why, what happened?” Diana leaned forward, concerned. “Did someone get hurt?”
“It’s his dame, she left a month ago. They say she's close. We’ll try but-“ He noticed that Diana was grinning slightly and looking away. “Pilot, is there something you’d like to share?”
“We made a few discoveries of our own.” Diana said, standing up. “Did you know the team has a superhero now? Makes all kinds of things possible.”
She got up and walked inside to the medical wing where the only light was coming from the back room. For some reason Blake was there, talking softly, as Charles was in the medicine cabinet. Hopefully he wouldn’t knock too much over.
“We’re all just men fighting here, I’m not looking for a superman.” He walked inside, missing that Diana bristled.
“Well it looks like you got one.” For some reason she sounded upset. “And I wouldn’t worry about the leader, us women and the blind guy took care of it. Though I wouldn’t try to talk to her much right now. Give her a night first.”
She opened the back door, where Zinda was sitting next to a figure in the main bed. Diana went in as well, and talked to the figure. He couldn’t see much, just the top of the woman’s head, but it seemed to be clear that it was her. The owl the man had adopted was watching. The medicine door opened and Charles came out with syringes. Confused Scott saw him move carefully, the medicine was labeled and correct. But the blind man was playing with needles so he was going to stay out of the way.
“Diana, help.” Charles said and Trever jumped to lead him to the bed. The woman seemed to relax as he got close. « C’est le dernier, ma copine. Je suis ici. Se détendre, tu as sur. »
With a glance Zinda turned the lights in the room down, turning them up a few moments after. The woman was resting now, and the syringes were lined up and taken apart perfectly.
“She’ll be okay?” Zinda asked, concerned. She was hovering over her friend.
“The next few days might be rough, but it’s all healing after that.” Charles clearly couldn’t see again, and Diana moved the needles away from him just in time. Watching as Charles grabbed a hand and relaxed himself Scott understood the ability but was also glad she was safe – for both their sakes. “How long did he have her?”
“About a month. We weren’t sure she was still alive.” McNider moved to get up, but Scott stopped him. “Stay as you are. You tell me when she’s ready to talk, and we’ll have to work out how this new skill of yours works. I shouldn’t have benched you so soon, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“The boxes, information. It’s in German, but it should be useful.” McNider pointed to several boxes in the corner. “My german isn’t what it should be, I could only make out some of it, but it seemed like some of the information we’ve been looking for.”
“Okay. Blake, Trever help me this them to HQ. We rescued most of her team, when she’s ready to visit you take her over. Good job getting her out.” The two moved to gather the intel and leave.
The women weren’t going back to their room that night, each had claimed a patient bed with duty bags. McNider seemed to be sleeping in the chair. He didn’t want to think what the woman had endured, but at least now it was passed.
July 17, 1942 Carter's Rooms
“Hall, any luck?” Scott walked in, nodding to where the archaeologist was working. Carter motioned to the chair that already had a glass of gin by it.
“Depends if you want it to make sense.” Hall, not a doctor, had been spending his time working on figuring out how a man could see in the dark. “I did find Charles though.”
Turning the book he pointed to a passage, with an illustration. It was a man with an owl’s head.
“Night vision, it’s traded for our regular. Once I saw it it became obvious. Headaches, isolation – and always a healer.” Carter let him look, it did fit. All those time when Charles could drive so much better in the dark made sense now. “There’s a whole catalog of skills like that in here, the hard part is guessing who comes next.”
“And it’s us. Theories?” He asked and Carter nodded.
“The speedster. Where you have the healer there’s a speedster. Question is who he is though.” Carter showed a second page.
“Something to look for.” Scott said, sipping the gin. “At least they’re useful.”
“Thought I’d find you here. Something that might interest us.” Garrick opened the door and came in, sitting down. “Harris’s team has been going through those files. These seem to apply to us.”
“From the Colonal?” Carter asked, taking them to look them over. “I thought he was some SS officer.”
“So did they, Harris did the translation. It should be solid.” The two looked at him. “Her family is German, she’s trying to help how she can. She’s good at the language. He’s looking for the same pieces we are, to send home.”
“Oh, that’s not good.” Carter said, reading the pages. “He’s ahead of us.”
“Why does that always seem to be the case.” Scott looked at a few pages himself and sighed. “Carter, he has two of them already, look.”
“He hasn’t moved them, which is something. This isn’t good.” The scholar took out his book and updated the information.
“How are the refuges?” Jay asked, taking a moment to sit. “They looked bad.”
“Improving, but it wasn’t only wounds. Several of them had trauma and all them of them had some degree of malnutrition.” Carter said. “They lost more than we saved.”
“I thought they smuggled food?” Scott asked, citing the top Nazi complaint.
“They do, to feed the other people.” Garrick wasn’t surprised, after his own experience. “Glad we have them here. And McNider’s girl?” The last he asked softly.
“Healing up, as far as wounds go. Still coming back.” Scott replied softly as well. “Better when he’s around. She’s writing what she knows so he can pass it on, it’s a wonder she can do that.”
“It’s terrible, any chance that she’s in the book?” Scott asked and Carter was already turning the book and flipping a couple pages.
“Descendant of the old guard, they’re littered all through the area. Just because the system is scattered doesn’t mean it’s not here.” Carter went back to his book.
Garrick sighed and got up. He had other things on his mind.
July 18, 1942 Tyler's Rooms
“Lt. R. Tyler?” Rex looked up to see the SOE girl standing there. She worked for the British but was clearly American. “Lt. Wendy Harris.”
“Ya, one sec.” He put down the vials and took off this work gloves and goggles. She stood at the door and waited. She was holding several boxes. “Hey, those look heavy.”
She nodded and began to pull in several cases, they felt like cement. They pulled them and set them up according to some order, which also required clearing off his work space in the process. But finally she seemed happy with them.
“Do I have to guess what these are?” Rex ask, as she pulled a crow bar from her bag and started opening them. Whatever she wanted to do she was driven.
“Parts.” She said and with a final effort to open the box. Rex took over and she grabbed canvas bags from outside.
Indeed they were, but also supplies. Getting them all open he saw she had brought him a project, he just had no idea why.
“My team is working on the files, they have notes about military stuff but then I saw the people in the wing.” She was separating the bags. “They’ve been fighting this alone for so long, you know? Their own government sells them out, living under the Germans, I mean they’re doing what they can.”
She was counting the boxes, and their inventory. A clipboard had appeared out of the ether. It wasn’t just mechanical parts, but food and medicine bottles as well.
“Ya, it’s rough.” He agreed, still confused. “Why is this here, though?”
“Lt. Garrick said you were an engineer. You are, right?” She looked at him, uncertainty in her big blue eyes, and something funny happened to his knees.
“I, um, I am. Ya.” It was the best he could do. Words weren’t working.
“That’s perfect!” She took out parts and put them on the table. “These are the radios, the small ones. Or they will be once you put them together. Make up for things, you know?”
“What do you have to make up for?” Rex asked, looking at the pieces, they seemed straight forward. “You’re with the good guys.”
“I screwed up.” She sat down and watched, hoping to learn how to build them so she could help. “I missed all the signs about Vichy, it was my job to see it. Or my teams’ anyway.”
He looked up and saw the face of guilt, the same that had been keeping him up at night to.
“I’m the one who was feeding you the intel, we both let them down.” He saw her look up and smile sadly. She had been in the refugee tent. “What’s in these things?”
“The radios, c-rations, a basic med kit, code books and a little flier.” She held up the last, it was an allied propaganda in french, the coming together of the free world. Just ‘hold on’. “What I could think of.”
“I can do the radios, and the code books are a good idea. McNider could help me upgrade the med kit into something better. But there’s honestly not much to be done with the c-rations.” He said as he worked on the first radio, and smiled as she laughed.
“No, they’re terrible. They really are.” It was a real smile now, he looked up twice. Just to see it a second time. “Thanks for the help. I just want to do good in the world, you know?”
“I get it, so do I.” He finished the first one and they both pulled the parts for the second. “This is a start. Test that one, just to make sure it works. Won’t do much good if they don’t.”
July 30, 1942 Recovery Ward
Garrick was doing his daily rounds, at first they had been heart breaking but he had forced himself to get some distance. That he couldn’t understand the language helped. Some of the survivors were getting stronger, they could eat the simple food they were given on their own. Some still needed help. The nurses were somewhat busy looking after medical issues so he volunteered to do the simple work. The least he could do after the help they had given him.
-Merci- The older man said as Jay helped him with the thin gruel. The younger patients had recovered faster.
“De rien.” He said and he man smirked a little at his accent. It was one of the few words he knew.
He was on his third bed when the tent woke up. Every bed seemed to look up and smile, whatever it was it was doing the ward good. Looking himself he saw Mms. D’Couvier leading Charles into the room. She was well enough to leave the tent, a good sign. Even if she still used an escort.
Those that could stand on their own did, and hurried over. Those that couldn’t beamed and cheered from their beds. They knew Pvt. McNider to, and he didn’t know what to make of the cheers for him. The current patient, a middle age woman, wasn’t strong enough to get up but called for the young woman. Charles visited beds while Song Bird went a little ways away to visit. These people she trusted.
“Dinah! Dinah!” She hurried to the woman and the two chatted very quickly, both relieved. The woman was already little stronger.
Jay left the two to conversation and reached out to talk to his teammate. Charles kept an ear out to make sure that his now safe sweet heart was doing okay.
“She’s looking better.” Jay said as Charles smiled a little. “Must have good doctor.”
“It’s all her, she’s fighting tooth and nail. Refuses to stay down. I’m just helping. I heard you’ve been helping the survivors, it made her smile. Thank you.” He motioned to walk to a corner where he could keep listening. Though if she needed to get away she could still see him.
“Harris tells me they were trapped. We can’t send anyone back until we clear that up.” Charles looked around, looking for a seat. Jay pulled one over, then one for himself. “There’s no point sending her back to a death trap.”
“Who says she’s going back?” Jay asked, looking at him. “She’s out, she’s done her part. More then.”
“She does. Her war is done when France is free. I’m just trying to convince her to heal first.” He was smiling, both worried and proud, and seemed to know that Jay was shocked. “I told you, very bad at staying down.”
“Clearly.” Jay smiled. She glanced back to know where McNider was, worried about him as well. They worked. “Are you using your, um, thing to help us?”
“My reversed sight, you can say it. Yes. Scott and Harris are working on the plans. They should have something soon.” He seemed to hear that she was walking back. “If you see Trever and Blake ask them if she can stay with them while I’m away. Just so she’s not alone. I can’t really see them now. She trusts them.”
“I’m sure they will. You’re ward, my Lady.” Jay got up as the shy young women arrived. She was trying not to be but she was unsure of him. He knew better then to hold it against her. “You’re very good helping him like his. He can be quite the handful.”
“I am afraid it iz me ‘ho is le handful, Monsieur Garrick.” She smiled a little and pulled her companion to his feet, and looked happier as he claimed her hand. “My Charles est quite parfait. It is I who fails to be what I should be.”
“You will have to take that disagreement with him. Time, you will recover.” Garrick saw that she was ready to leave.
« A bientôt, Monsieur Garrick. » She said softly and led the two away. « Merci. »
July 30, 1942 Chateau de Jardin
Colonel Hans Godsten knew there were three, both the pattern and the men left behind told him that. The bullets said they were American. They knew exactly where to go.
Pacing the office of the French house, Godsten could feel his eyes burn from looking over the information. He had missed something. Again. Go over it again.
He had seen her symbol, the pale gold ankh, in the first days at the bar. Stalking the woman was easy – her work was public. The shine of the symbol only grew, she was playing a greater role. And it was getting stronger the longer he was there. He knew Fate worked by reaction. Looking at his own symbol, still pale, he focused on the information. It wasn’t growing in response to him, which had been clear once she had been taken here. The radio was meant to be just a trap but she had gotten it to work. Stubborn, she was more then what she seemed.
The mystery of her, as a person and as Fate’s servant, was still burning in his veins. But now he also knew that her calling was elsewhere for now.
Someone had learned how to track her, and done so well. She must have had people to talk to, co-workers. She was most certainly resistance but then few here weren’t. He might have been spotted.
But the method. The street lights shot out, that bothered him because he knew it was key. Even the resistance worked in the shadows – not the dark. And they were from a distance. They were taking the lights out for someone else.
None of it made sense. Small allied raids meant casualties, and the same number from the French people after. Their men had been found drugged, and kept away from the elements. No one had been hurt, meaning they didn’t have rules for this one.
She did have her city beau, Charles. He had tired of hearing of him. He had thought the boy was an invention but she hadn’t stopped clinging. Paris gentlemen lived under streetlights, not in the darkness from the lack of them.
Her family was gone, caught hiding Judes. Her whole line seemed to break the rules. The bar was under watch, mainly sneaking food to the locals and pulling locals out of the work houses. He would have to do something about that. There was only this Charles, who could seemingly work in the dark – impossible.
Or was it?
The papers, his mission, powered men – that skill would fit. His crew had been scouring Europe for servants of Fate, to make them understand what could be done if this power was given to great men, a great people. Who could leave the world not to the random chances and subtle moves but to bold righteousness. A direct effort, yes, but wasn’t it better than letting the some magical force decide what was rightfully theirs? Why should one man hold such power?
When the world was united the power could be best used. She had to be made to see that. This Charles was feeding her the same lies that had enslaved humanity for generations, lies that would see her killed. He couldn’t let that happen, when there was so much more she could have.
He didn’t have much, notes from the tombs in Egypt. But he saw the Man of Darkness. There were others. He was French, clearly a doctor, likely a good man. And being helped by Americans. But his interference couldn’t be allowed.
July 30, 1942 Song Bird Bar
It was a daily effort to put the tiredness out of his mind. Arriving via the back tunnels in the bar Maurice had been making sure that the resistance members in the caves were taken care of. The ones that had been in the files. They had to hide now. Now he had to look after the ones here.
The bar was a popular as ever. The story was that the singer was dealing with legal matters in Paris, which was known to take some time. Many of the native families were fighting to keep their property in the Occupied Zone. He had a small army keeping up with food and drink orders, young kids and new members. He played music but there was no singer now. The German Command had offered a German Soprano but that had been quickly turned down.
“Maurice, come.” One of the new members, a young man saved from the work house, was waving him over. “The radio, it’s the Americans. They say it’s from her.”
Sending him out to help the costumers Maurice made his way to the upstairs room. He used it now to keep unwanted patrons from finding its secrets – no one had any interest in an old man’s room. The radio was active, and the speaker was already out.
“Verify” He said into the mic, the static somewhat heavy that day. It was a few moments but a voice can from the other side.
“The rabbit buys a hat.” The voice was unclear through the static but he knew the voice. He felt the knot in his chest loosen. She was safe.
“Report.” He said and the radio clicked a few times, there was a wind outside.
“The Butterfly thinks summer will last forever, but seasons change.” Song Bird said over the wire. She was talking about the moles, German officers keeping the Bar from sending out information.
“And can the change can be sudden.”
“Yes. But they will be safe, the cage is ready.”
He had work to do. The Bar would be open for business again soon.
August 1, 1942 Medical Ward
Charles kept two chairs in this main room, they were used to rest after patients and treat minor wounds. Jay knew them well, they were where he and the good Doctor would sip cold ones and play cards after shifts. Things weren’t the same now.
With Miss D’Couvier staying nearby, in the woman’s barracks with the female pilots to be exact, evening drinks were rather something of the past. Soft English throw blankets were covering the manly army chairs while second hand pillows made them even nicer. The side table was new, and the feminine tea cup and plate wasn’t likely for him.
The tea cup was in use at the moment. The blonde young woman was curled into one of the chairs, sipping a brew while looking over files to look for ways to help or insight to add. She was intent, the look of fear replaced by one of focus. She was fighting her way back.
“I don’t mean to bother.” Jay said softly, still startling her. It took a moment but she recentered. “Find anything?”
“This?” She put down the cup, a little of which had spilled, and lifted the file. “A few things. I miss doing more. Charles is making the medicine for the mission, I will get him for you.”
“No, let him work.” He said as she sat back down, she was confused. “I actually came to see you. Gifts, they wouldn’t do much for him. “
She laughed slightly, taking the sizable box. Grabbing a knife from her back she cut the tape open and began to look at the items inside. Jay could see a small gun in her jacket and a stiletto knife hidden in her shoe. She was a fighter in every sense.
“There’s more. Joan’s just got here first but we put together a collection. We’re tight in the states to but nothing like you are.” He said as she looked at the collection. Clothing, she only had two outfits as far as he could tell when he wrote, supplies and what luxuries could be afforded. Joan had given him some idea of the inventory and it didn’t sound like much, mainly hand me downs, but the resistance member was looking at it all with wide eyes. She had been keeping close to Charles or the female pilots. He had been looking forward to the box arriving to have a chance to finally talk to the women. Jay had to admit he was curious about the refugee.
“This is-c’est très agréable! There is so much, this Joan is your wife, yes? I must do something to thank her. You have to tell me what she likes.” She was looking in wonder at a new pair of stockings and filled makeup set. The clothing was used, but being treated like treasure. The small hats that women tended to wear were already in a row. “To give so much, she is a very kind woman.”
“Worried about you, we all were.” She was confused, and he felt the need to explain. “When you stopped responding and went missing McNider stopped hiding you from us to ask for help. Made us worry as well.”
« Je suis désolée. » She seemed to feel guilty. She was used to being in charge, helping others. This was a new experience for her. He could see she needed the items, but now felt odd about taking them.
“Garrick, do you have – I’m sorry.” Rex saw who was there and moved the box out of eye sight. “It’s nothing important.”
“If it is for the mission it is very important, Lt. Tyler.” The man stopped, looking caught. “My Charles is working on the tranquilizers. That should be the new gear to help him, yes? He will be done shortly. I know about the mission, I would have to be very dense indeed not to know there is a war on.”
“My Song Bird, they’re ready.” The door opened and she jumped up. McNider was there, his hand reaching out. She quickly claimed it. He was carrying a medical box. « Est-ce qu’il y a une fête? »
« Un petit peu, mon copain. Garrick et Tyler etait genial. Tu est prêt ? » She set the box gently on the table, something Charles was unable to do in the light.
“Scott came to see me, we head out at dark.” Tyler handed the box to McNider at first but quickly adjusted and handed it to their newest ally. She helped Charles into his seat, putting away the prior items, and opened it. “It’s his new things.”
“Thank you.” She said, giving him the first item, goggles. He felt them with his hands, thinking. Carter was entering, it seemed the meeting was in here. “You are grabbing the mole, do you have everything you need?”
“If he has those darts done we’re set. That file correct, Ma’am?” Scott was sitting down, having followed Carter inside. “You’re the best source we have.”
“It is correct, Captain. The man is English, but speaks perfect German. He owes a debt to them, likely gambling. If you can pull him away with the promise of a game it will not be hard. Getting him to talk will not be difficult, he is not heroic. More self-interested.” She took the goggles and replaced them with small bombs, McNider seemed to know what they were. “Just be fast. You will be met at the caves, if you can kill no one.”
“They’ll take the same from you.” Garrick said and she nodded. It was information they didn’t have before, and it made them feel terrible for not knowing it sooner.
“Sadly yes. Once he give you his compatriots the area will be safe again and I can begin to move my people back in.” She was sitting close to Charles but interacting with them. Putting a voice and soul to the name. “I am told I will not be joining them though. How is it that I will do my part?”
“He’s looking for you, we put you back you’re gone within a day. Once we take him out you go back. “Scott said, somewhat briskly. “But your part is this. We know way more going in them we would without you. That saves lives.”
“Is it really so horrible being here with me?” Charles handed back the small grenade for her to put back in the box, she couldn’t hide a smile. He didn’t need to see it to know it was there. “When are we heading out, sir?”
“In about an hour, everything needs to be in place to take off right when it gets dark. That goes for all of you.” Scott was already in full uniform and was likely ready ahead of time as usual. “Charles you’ll be the lead driver, stop us from running into so much. We move out fast so be there.
“That’s us.” Garrick said, standing up. “Next time, ma’am. My Joan wants to help if she can, don’t be shy.”
“Of course, I must thank her.” Song Bird took the letter. “Do be careful. Bonne chance, all of you.”
“Good luck.” Carter explained to Rex and Jay. “We need to help Tyler get his boxes loaded. I’ll send for Trever and Blake for you, McNider.”
Charles is put on leave, too see if his sight will heal. When it becomes clear that it won’t be returning the cogs of the army move to have him removed.
Scott steps into stop the transfer, citing Charles’ close ties to be resistance. His new disability is hidden by the SOE. Unable to work with his team as much he befriends an owl, who seems to simply move in.
The second wave of German air attacks have begun, and the civilian body count is just as staggering as feared. Without the intel they have little defense. The war needs the northern system to do its job.
The SOE sends a tech specialist, Lt. Harris, to help build the radio contacts across the coast. A young American woman, she and Tyler team up to make this war easier. Visiting the Bar Tyler, Blake and Trever work with Maurice to set up the radio. Tyler takes a few items for Charles, hoping to make up for his talking to Vichy.
In Ruen the remains of the Northern Network is in hiding – and hurt. Several have already been killed. Taking a last shot to get her team out Song Bird sneaks out and makes it to a local radio tower. She gets the message out but the lead was a trap, and she’s taken.
The camp moves to rescue the French resistance team. Moving carefully they see that the guards have been sedated, and the resistance have been treated. Sneaking out together McNider, Blake and Trever had been left out. Together they use their knowledge of the area. They clear out the others, and track down the Colonel. The dark house might Fstop someone else but McNider has a new skill – he can see in the dark now. He makes his way and tracks Song Bird down.
Song Bird has been hurt, but they move quickly and get out. She grabs files that have been used to track members. They have to track the Colonel’s system if she is to repair her own.
The resistance team has to heal before she can go to work. And the Colonel’s own secret team has to be taken out. The north cannot reactivate until they do.
Ultimate Justice Society of America
Chapter 7: Watching
By Adrini
July 14, 1942. Camp Blackhawk“Colonel McSweeney, tell me the tent is up.” Scott said as he ran ahead of the oncoming line of stretchers.
“Yes, indeed. I didn’t expect quite so many. It will be tight quarters.” The first of the bodies went by, clearly dressed infirst aid but needing serious help. “Did they find the leader?”
“No, she left to send us the message but didn’t make it back. Once we get these set it’ll be the next mission.” Scott moved out of the way as Tyler and Carter rushed with a seriously hurt older woman. The sight was sobering.
The SOE operator said nothing but nodded. The bodies moved past, the British and American medics quickly moving to help. They we having trouble keeping up, making this worse.
“Even if he can’t see, a blind man can still take questions.” McSweeney said, seeing himself that they needed help. “He is the most qualified surgeon here.”
“Do what you can here, sir.” Scott said, peeling away. “I’ll be right back.”
The temporary medical tent was just north of the air field, and the camp medical building was in the south. In the time it took to sprint Allen’s head spun, the point of this mission was to find Song Bird. Not just to help the war effort but to give Charles something to cling to. He had no idea how he was going to break the news.
Diana was sitting at the entrance of the building, it was her normal position after missions. A beer in one hand and smoke in the other. She nodded as he got there, and nodded to the chaos nearby.
“Sounds like you had luck. What’s the count?” She saw he was in a rush and put the cig out.
“Almost thirty. The missing agents.” He said and she nodded. “How is he, there might be a better time.”
“Why, what happened?” Diana leaned forward, concerned. “Did someone get hurt?”
“It’s his dame, she left a month ago. They say she's close. We’ll try but-“ He noticed that Diana was grinning slightly and looking away. “Pilot, is there something you’d like to share?”
“We made a few discoveries of our own.” Diana said, standing up. “Did you know the team has a superhero now? Makes all kinds of things possible.”
She got up and walked inside to the medical wing where the only light was coming from the back room. For some reason Blake was there, talking softly, as Charles was in the medicine cabinet. Hopefully he wouldn’t knock too much over.
“We’re all just men fighting here, I’m not looking for a superman.” He walked inside, missing that Diana bristled.
“Well it looks like you got one.” For some reason she sounded upset. “And I wouldn’t worry about the leader, us women and the blind guy took care of it. Though I wouldn’t try to talk to her much right now. Give her a night first.”
She opened the back door, where Zinda was sitting next to a figure in the main bed. Diana went in as well, and talked to the figure. He couldn’t see much, just the top of the woman’s head, but it seemed to be clear that it was her. The owl the man had adopted was watching. The medicine door opened and Charles came out with syringes. Confused Scott saw him move carefully, the medicine was labeled and correct. But the blind man was playing with needles so he was going to stay out of the way.
“Diana, help.” Charles said and Trever jumped to lead him to the bed. The woman seemed to relax as he got close. « C’est le dernier, ma copine. Je suis ici. Se détendre, tu as sur. »
With a glance Zinda turned the lights in the room down, turning them up a few moments after. The woman was resting now, and the syringes were lined up and taken apart perfectly.
“She’ll be okay?” Zinda asked, concerned. She was hovering over her friend.
“The next few days might be rough, but it’s all healing after that.” Charles clearly couldn’t see again, and Diana moved the needles away from him just in time. Watching as Charles grabbed a hand and relaxed himself Scott understood the ability but was also glad she was safe – for both their sakes. “How long did he have her?”
“About a month. We weren’t sure she was still alive.” McNider moved to get up, but Scott stopped him. “Stay as you are. You tell me when she’s ready to talk, and we’ll have to work out how this new skill of yours works. I shouldn’t have benched you so soon, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“The boxes, information. It’s in German, but it should be useful.” McNider pointed to several boxes in the corner. “My german isn’t what it should be, I could only make out some of it, but it seemed like some of the information we’ve been looking for.”
“Okay. Blake, Trever help me this them to HQ. We rescued most of her team, when she’s ready to visit you take her over. Good job getting her out.” The two moved to gather the intel and leave.
The women weren’t going back to their room that night, each had claimed a patient bed with duty bags. McNider seemed to be sleeping in the chair. He didn’t want to think what the woman had endured, but at least now it was passed.
July 17, 1942 Carter's Rooms
“Hall, any luck?” Scott walked in, nodding to where the archaeologist was working. Carter motioned to the chair that already had a glass of gin by it.
“Depends if you want it to make sense.” Hall, not a doctor, had been spending his time working on figuring out how a man could see in the dark. “I did find Charles though.”
Turning the book he pointed to a passage, with an illustration. It was a man with an owl’s head.
“Night vision, it’s traded for our regular. Once I saw it it became obvious. Headaches, isolation – and always a healer.” Carter let him look, it did fit. All those time when Charles could drive so much better in the dark made sense now. “There’s a whole catalog of skills like that in here, the hard part is guessing who comes next.”
“And it’s us. Theories?” He asked and Carter nodded.
“The speedster. Where you have the healer there’s a speedster. Question is who he is though.” Carter showed a second page.
“Something to look for.” Scott said, sipping the gin. “At least they’re useful.”
“Thought I’d find you here. Something that might interest us.” Garrick opened the door and came in, sitting down. “Harris’s team has been going through those files. These seem to apply to us.”
“From the Colonal?” Carter asked, taking them to look them over. “I thought he was some SS officer.”
“So did they, Harris did the translation. It should be solid.” The two looked at him. “Her family is German, she’s trying to help how she can. She’s good at the language. He’s looking for the same pieces we are, to send home.”
“Oh, that’s not good.” Carter said, reading the pages. “He’s ahead of us.”
“Why does that always seem to be the case.” Scott looked at a few pages himself and sighed. “Carter, he has two of them already, look.”
“He hasn’t moved them, which is something. This isn’t good.” The scholar took out his book and updated the information.
“How are the refuges?” Jay asked, taking a moment to sit. “They looked bad.”
“Improving, but it wasn’t only wounds. Several of them had trauma and all them of them had some degree of malnutrition.” Carter said. “They lost more than we saved.”
“I thought they smuggled food?” Scott asked, citing the top Nazi complaint.
“They do, to feed the other people.” Garrick wasn’t surprised, after his own experience. “Glad we have them here. And McNider’s girl?” The last he asked softly.
“Healing up, as far as wounds go. Still coming back.” Scott replied softly as well. “Better when he’s around. She’s writing what she knows so he can pass it on, it’s a wonder she can do that.”
“It’s terrible, any chance that she’s in the book?” Scott asked and Carter was already turning the book and flipping a couple pages.
“Descendant of the old guard, they’re littered all through the area. Just because the system is scattered doesn’t mean it’s not here.” Carter went back to his book.
Garrick sighed and got up. He had other things on his mind.
July 18, 1942 Tyler's Rooms
“Lt. R. Tyler?” Rex looked up to see the SOE girl standing there. She worked for the British but was clearly American. “Lt. Wendy Harris.”
“Ya, one sec.” He put down the vials and took off this work gloves and goggles. She stood at the door and waited. She was holding several boxes. “Hey, those look heavy.”
She nodded and began to pull in several cases, they felt like cement. They pulled them and set them up according to some order, which also required clearing off his work space in the process. But finally she seemed happy with them.
“Do I have to guess what these are?” Rex ask, as she pulled a crow bar from her bag and started opening them. Whatever she wanted to do she was driven.
“Parts.” She said and with a final effort to open the box. Rex took over and she grabbed canvas bags from outside.
Indeed they were, but also supplies. Getting them all open he saw she had brought him a project, he just had no idea why.
“My team is working on the files, they have notes about military stuff but then I saw the people in the wing.” She was separating the bags. “They’ve been fighting this alone for so long, you know? Their own government sells them out, living under the Germans, I mean they’re doing what they can.”
She was counting the boxes, and their inventory. A clipboard had appeared out of the ether. It wasn’t just mechanical parts, but food and medicine bottles as well.
“Ya, it’s rough.” He agreed, still confused. “Why is this here, though?”
“Lt. Garrick said you were an engineer. You are, right?” She looked at him, uncertainty in her big blue eyes, and something funny happened to his knees.
“I, um, I am. Ya.” It was the best he could do. Words weren’t working.
“That’s perfect!” She took out parts and put them on the table. “These are the radios, the small ones. Or they will be once you put them together. Make up for things, you know?”
“What do you have to make up for?” Rex asked, looking at the pieces, they seemed straight forward. “You’re with the good guys.”
“I screwed up.” She sat down and watched, hoping to learn how to build them so she could help. “I missed all the signs about Vichy, it was my job to see it. Or my teams’ anyway.”
He looked up and saw the face of guilt, the same that had been keeping him up at night to.
“I’m the one who was feeding you the intel, we both let them down.” He saw her look up and smile sadly. She had been in the refugee tent. “What’s in these things?”
“The radios, c-rations, a basic med kit, code books and a little flier.” She held up the last, it was an allied propaganda in french, the coming together of the free world. Just ‘hold on’. “What I could think of.”
“I can do the radios, and the code books are a good idea. McNider could help me upgrade the med kit into something better. But there’s honestly not much to be done with the c-rations.” He said as he worked on the first radio, and smiled as she laughed.
“No, they’re terrible. They really are.” It was a real smile now, he looked up twice. Just to see it a second time. “Thanks for the help. I just want to do good in the world, you know?”
“I get it, so do I.” He finished the first one and they both pulled the parts for the second. “This is a start. Test that one, just to make sure it works. Won’t do much good if they don’t.”
July 30, 1942 Recovery Ward
Garrick was doing his daily rounds, at first they had been heart breaking but he had forced himself to get some distance. That he couldn’t understand the language helped. Some of the survivors were getting stronger, they could eat the simple food they were given on their own. Some still needed help. The nurses were somewhat busy looking after medical issues so he volunteered to do the simple work. The least he could do after the help they had given him.
-Merci- The older man said as Jay helped him with the thin gruel. The younger patients had recovered faster.
“De rien.” He said and he man smirked a little at his accent. It was one of the few words he knew.
He was on his third bed when the tent woke up. Every bed seemed to look up and smile, whatever it was it was doing the ward good. Looking himself he saw Mms. D’Couvier leading Charles into the room. She was well enough to leave the tent, a good sign. Even if she still used an escort.
Those that could stand on their own did, and hurried over. Those that couldn’t beamed and cheered from their beds. They knew Pvt. McNider to, and he didn’t know what to make of the cheers for him. The current patient, a middle age woman, wasn’t strong enough to get up but called for the young woman. Charles visited beds while Song Bird went a little ways away to visit. These people she trusted.
“Dinah! Dinah!” She hurried to the woman and the two chatted very quickly, both relieved. The woman was already little stronger.
Jay left the two to conversation and reached out to talk to his teammate. Charles kept an ear out to make sure that his now safe sweet heart was doing okay.
“She’s looking better.” Jay said as Charles smiled a little. “Must have good doctor.”
“It’s all her, she’s fighting tooth and nail. Refuses to stay down. I’m just helping. I heard you’ve been helping the survivors, it made her smile. Thank you.” He motioned to walk to a corner where he could keep listening. Though if she needed to get away she could still see him.
“Harris tells me they were trapped. We can’t send anyone back until we clear that up.” Charles looked around, looking for a seat. Jay pulled one over, then one for himself. “There’s no point sending her back to a death trap.”
“Who says she’s going back?” Jay asked, looking at him. “She’s out, she’s done her part. More then.”
“She does. Her war is done when France is free. I’m just trying to convince her to heal first.” He was smiling, both worried and proud, and seemed to know that Jay was shocked. “I told you, very bad at staying down.”
“Clearly.” Jay smiled. She glanced back to know where McNider was, worried about him as well. They worked. “Are you using your, um, thing to help us?”
“My reversed sight, you can say it. Yes. Scott and Harris are working on the plans. They should have something soon.” He seemed to hear that she was walking back. “If you see Trever and Blake ask them if she can stay with them while I’m away. Just so she’s not alone. I can’t really see them now. She trusts them.”
“I’m sure they will. You’re ward, my Lady.” Jay got up as the shy young women arrived. She was trying not to be but she was unsure of him. He knew better then to hold it against her. “You’re very good helping him like his. He can be quite the handful.”
“I am afraid it iz me ‘ho is le handful, Monsieur Garrick.” She smiled a little and pulled her companion to his feet, and looked happier as he claimed her hand. “My Charles est quite parfait. It is I who fails to be what I should be.”
“You will have to take that disagreement with him. Time, you will recover.” Garrick saw that she was ready to leave.
« A bientôt, Monsieur Garrick. » She said softly and led the two away. « Merci. »
July 30, 1942 Chateau de Jardin
Colonel Hans Godsten knew there were three, both the pattern and the men left behind told him that. The bullets said they were American. They knew exactly where to go.
Pacing the office of the French house, Godsten could feel his eyes burn from looking over the information. He had missed something. Again. Go over it again.
He had seen her symbol, the pale gold ankh, in the first days at the bar. Stalking the woman was easy – her work was public. The shine of the symbol only grew, she was playing a greater role. And it was getting stronger the longer he was there. He knew Fate worked by reaction. Looking at his own symbol, still pale, he focused on the information. It wasn’t growing in response to him, which had been clear once she had been taken here. The radio was meant to be just a trap but she had gotten it to work. Stubborn, she was more then what she seemed.
The mystery of her, as a person and as Fate’s servant, was still burning in his veins. But now he also knew that her calling was elsewhere for now.
Someone had learned how to track her, and done so well. She must have had people to talk to, co-workers. She was most certainly resistance but then few here weren’t. He might have been spotted.
But the method. The street lights shot out, that bothered him because he knew it was key. Even the resistance worked in the shadows – not the dark. And they were from a distance. They were taking the lights out for someone else.
None of it made sense. Small allied raids meant casualties, and the same number from the French people after. Their men had been found drugged, and kept away from the elements. No one had been hurt, meaning they didn’t have rules for this one.
She did have her city beau, Charles. He had tired of hearing of him. He had thought the boy was an invention but she hadn’t stopped clinging. Paris gentlemen lived under streetlights, not in the darkness from the lack of them.
Her family was gone, caught hiding Judes. Her whole line seemed to break the rules. The bar was under watch, mainly sneaking food to the locals and pulling locals out of the work houses. He would have to do something about that. There was only this Charles, who could seemingly work in the dark – impossible.
Or was it?
The papers, his mission, powered men – that skill would fit. His crew had been scouring Europe for servants of Fate, to make them understand what could be done if this power was given to great men, a great people. Who could leave the world not to the random chances and subtle moves but to bold righteousness. A direct effort, yes, but wasn’t it better than letting the some magical force decide what was rightfully theirs? Why should one man hold such power?
When the world was united the power could be best used. She had to be made to see that. This Charles was feeding her the same lies that had enslaved humanity for generations, lies that would see her killed. He couldn’t let that happen, when there was so much more she could have.
He didn’t have much, notes from the tombs in Egypt. But he saw the Man of Darkness. There were others. He was French, clearly a doctor, likely a good man. And being helped by Americans. But his interference couldn’t be allowed.
July 30, 1942 Song Bird Bar
It was a daily effort to put the tiredness out of his mind. Arriving via the back tunnels in the bar Maurice had been making sure that the resistance members in the caves were taken care of. The ones that had been in the files. They had to hide now. Now he had to look after the ones here.
The bar was a popular as ever. The story was that the singer was dealing with legal matters in Paris, which was known to take some time. Many of the native families were fighting to keep their property in the Occupied Zone. He had a small army keeping up with food and drink orders, young kids and new members. He played music but there was no singer now. The German Command had offered a German Soprano but that had been quickly turned down.
“Maurice, come.” One of the new members, a young man saved from the work house, was waving him over. “The radio, it’s the Americans. They say it’s from her.”
Sending him out to help the costumers Maurice made his way to the upstairs room. He used it now to keep unwanted patrons from finding its secrets – no one had any interest in an old man’s room. The radio was active, and the speaker was already out.
“Verify” He said into the mic, the static somewhat heavy that day. It was a few moments but a voice can from the other side.
“The rabbit buys a hat.” The voice was unclear through the static but he knew the voice. He felt the knot in his chest loosen. She was safe.
“Report.” He said and the radio clicked a few times, there was a wind outside.
“The Butterfly thinks summer will last forever, but seasons change.” Song Bird said over the wire. She was talking about the moles, German officers keeping the Bar from sending out information.
“And can the change can be sudden.”
“Yes. But they will be safe, the cage is ready.”
He had work to do. The Bar would be open for business again soon.
Charles kept two chairs in this main room, they were used to rest after patients and treat minor wounds. Jay knew them well, they were where he and the good Doctor would sip cold ones and play cards after shifts. Things weren’t the same now.
With Miss D’Couvier staying nearby, in the woman’s barracks with the female pilots to be exact, evening drinks were rather something of the past. Soft English throw blankets were covering the manly army chairs while second hand pillows made them even nicer. The side table was new, and the feminine tea cup and plate wasn’t likely for him.
The tea cup was in use at the moment. The blonde young woman was curled into one of the chairs, sipping a brew while looking over files to look for ways to help or insight to add. She was intent, the look of fear replaced by one of focus. She was fighting her way back.
“I don’t mean to bother.” Jay said softly, still startling her. It took a moment but she recentered. “Find anything?”
“This?” She put down the cup, a little of which had spilled, and lifted the file. “A few things. I miss doing more. Charles is making the medicine for the mission, I will get him for you.”
“No, let him work.” He said as she sat back down, she was confused. “I actually came to see you. Gifts, they wouldn’t do much for him. “
She laughed slightly, taking the sizable box. Grabbing a knife from her back she cut the tape open and began to look at the items inside. Jay could see a small gun in her jacket and a stiletto knife hidden in her shoe. She was a fighter in every sense.
“There’s more. Joan’s just got here first but we put together a collection. We’re tight in the states to but nothing like you are.” He said as she looked at the collection. Clothing, she only had two outfits as far as he could tell when he wrote, supplies and what luxuries could be afforded. Joan had given him some idea of the inventory and it didn’t sound like much, mainly hand me downs, but the resistance member was looking at it all with wide eyes. She had been keeping close to Charles or the female pilots. He had been looking forward to the box arriving to have a chance to finally talk to the women. Jay had to admit he was curious about the refugee.
“This is-c’est très agréable! There is so much, this Joan is your wife, yes? I must do something to thank her. You have to tell me what she likes.” She was looking in wonder at a new pair of stockings and filled makeup set. The clothing was used, but being treated like treasure. The small hats that women tended to wear were already in a row. “To give so much, she is a very kind woman.”
“Worried about you, we all were.” She was confused, and he felt the need to explain. “When you stopped responding and went missing McNider stopped hiding you from us to ask for help. Made us worry as well.”
« Je suis désolée. » She seemed to feel guilty. She was used to being in charge, helping others. This was a new experience for her. He could see she needed the items, but now felt odd about taking them.
“Garrick, do you have – I’m sorry.” Rex saw who was there and moved the box out of eye sight. “It’s nothing important.”
“If it is for the mission it is very important, Lt. Tyler.” The man stopped, looking caught. “My Charles is working on the tranquilizers. That should be the new gear to help him, yes? He will be done shortly. I know about the mission, I would have to be very dense indeed not to know there is a war on.”
“My Song Bird, they’re ready.” The door opened and she jumped up. McNider was there, his hand reaching out. She quickly claimed it. He was carrying a medical box. « Est-ce qu’il y a une fête? »
« Un petit peu, mon copain. Garrick et Tyler etait genial. Tu est prêt ? » She set the box gently on the table, something Charles was unable to do in the light.
“Scott came to see me, we head out at dark.” Tyler handed the box to McNider at first but quickly adjusted and handed it to their newest ally. She helped Charles into his seat, putting away the prior items, and opened it. “It’s his new things.”
“Thank you.” She said, giving him the first item, goggles. He felt them with his hands, thinking. Carter was entering, it seemed the meeting was in here. “You are grabbing the mole, do you have everything you need?”
“If he has those darts done we’re set. That file correct, Ma’am?” Scott was sitting down, having followed Carter inside. “You’re the best source we have.”
“It is correct, Captain. The man is English, but speaks perfect German. He owes a debt to them, likely gambling. If you can pull him away with the promise of a game it will not be hard. Getting him to talk will not be difficult, he is not heroic. More self-interested.” She took the goggles and replaced them with small bombs, McNider seemed to know what they were. “Just be fast. You will be met at the caves, if you can kill no one.”
“They’ll take the same from you.” Garrick said and she nodded. It was information they didn’t have before, and it made them feel terrible for not knowing it sooner.
“Sadly yes. Once he give you his compatriots the area will be safe again and I can begin to move my people back in.” She was sitting close to Charles but interacting with them. Putting a voice and soul to the name. “I am told I will not be joining them though. How is it that I will do my part?”
“He’s looking for you, we put you back you’re gone within a day. Once we take him out you go back. “Scott said, somewhat briskly. “But your part is this. We know way more going in them we would without you. That saves lives.”
“Is it really so horrible being here with me?” Charles handed back the small grenade for her to put back in the box, she couldn’t hide a smile. He didn’t need to see it to know it was there. “When are we heading out, sir?”
“In about an hour, everything needs to be in place to take off right when it gets dark. That goes for all of you.” Scott was already in full uniform and was likely ready ahead of time as usual. “Charles you’ll be the lead driver, stop us from running into so much. We move out fast so be there.
“That’s us.” Garrick said, standing up. “Next time, ma’am. My Joan wants to help if she can, don’t be shy.”
“Of course, I must thank her.” Song Bird took the letter. “Do be careful. Bonne chance, all of you.”
“Good luck.” Carter explained to Rex and Jay. “We need to help Tyler get his boxes loaded. I’ll send for Trever and Blake for you, McNider.”
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