 |
Sample: Late January 1945
The Meetinghttps://www.roleplayer.me/1117287"Bloody Nora."" You are more than a number. You have a name."P eggy Carter's feet ached; it felt like she had been marching for several days, rather than the few hours. Normally, she wouldn't have minded it. She loved winter, oddly enough. The nip of the air kept her awake and everything blanketed in snow was a beautiful sight to behold. She only minded because she was wearing a pair of Barnes' old boots. He was the only one whose feet were anywhere near the size of hers and they were still two sizes too big. She had stuffed socks into the toe area to help ease the size difference but they were little help. Her own boots were worn out but she might chnge them when she had a moment. However, considering the task that lay before them, she felt dreadful for complaining at all. At least she had warm clothes and shoes. There were so many across Europe who didn't even have those.
The Russian army was silent beside her and she understood why. She knew that what they were about to do and she was silently bracing herself. When she, Steve, Barnes and the Commandos had helped liberate another concentration camp, she had spent the evening weeping afterwards. None of them had any comforting words--what could any of them possibly say? The commandos had gone to the tavern to drink, Barnes and Steve had remained with Peggy. She had sat beside Steve, head on his shoulder as she had wept. He'd put his arm around the usually composed Briton and held her. The state in which those poor, poor people were found in was a crime against humanity. Those words didn't quite engulf it, but that's all she could think of. Though she was sad, she had anger coursing through her. Those who had committed these atrocities would have to be made examples of. They would pay for their crimes; yet...it would not undo all of what was done. It wouldn't bring back all of those souls who were lost due to the madness and anti-semitism of one maniac.
She felt more alone than she ever had before; Steve and Bucky were both gone now and the Commandos were on another mission. Col. Phillips had been relieved shortly after Steve had died and she was now in charge of the 107th. How that had all come to fruition, she wasn't sure but here she was. Thankfully, they knew her and respected her. They followed the directions she gave; knowing full well that she had no problem with disiplining them. She also knew that her standing with the Howling Commandos had a great deal of influence on her standing with the men. She wore Steve's dog tags around her neck and had Bucky's in her pocket. They were with her in spirit; they would most certainly want to be here for this and so, in some small way; they were.
Overhead, a plane followed after them, chockful of supplies. The military's funds were not quite what they once were and Howard had reached into his own pockets, offering half. The other branches had pooled their money together to come up with the other half. Also inside of the planes were nurses. They would be needed. Her mind was full of so many thoughts when suddenly a smell permeated all of her senses. She knew precisely what it was and she had to do her best not to throw up. The scent of burning bodies was still heavy in the air and the mix of smoke made her eyes burn. Drawing her scarf up to cover her nose, Peggy took a deep breath as they marched into the camp. The sign over head sent a shiver down her spine, Arbeit macht frei. Work sets you free.
Several German soldiers stood at the ready; saluting as if they were just anxious for their arrival. The Russians instantly began to bind the Germans and place them under arrest. Peggy motioned to a group of five soldiers; "See to the landing strip. We are going to need the nurses and supplies. Radio to let me know when Stark on the ground. Men? Be ready. This will not be an easy sight ahead of us. We have only just seen the tip of the iceberg." Walking ahead, Peggy took note of an underground theatre, sighing deeply, she knew that was a gas chamber. She knew she would have to review it later on to put it in a report but she couldn't bring herself to it yet. Several buildings with large chimneys still smoking needed no introduction. Crematories. Peggy's hand went to the tags at her neck as if drawing strength from them. She had seen these horrors before and yet she could not grasp how humans had gotten so depraved. She had seen the horrors of war. She had seen the victims of it. But this...this was..Peggy's mind went blank. There were no answers. Only more questions.
As the came more into the camps, Peggy observed the soldiers around her, their faces stony and firm. She had to hand it to them; they were tough bastards. Turning a corner, Peggy took a sharp intake of breath. Rows of people stood near the barbed wire fences in those dreadful white and black outfits that they'd been given. A world of good it did them; they were so painfully thin that they hung off their frames. Peggy did her best to remain stoic but tears filled her dark brown orbs, blurring her vision for a moment. How were some of them still alive? They were so bloody malnourished and starving, they resembled skeletons with crepes for skin. Veins roped about their arms, standing out noticbly. The darkest of circles were under their eyes. Every rib looked so sharp that it might pierce their flesh and the looks in all of their eyes were that of the dead. There were no readable emotions, no joy, no sorrow. They had been utterly sapped of everything. That they clung to life still was a stunning and very moving thing. Deep down they must have had some fight still left within them. One of the Soviet captains began to speak Polish, another called out in German and some in Italian. It was then that some of these poor souls seemed to have a spark struck in their hearts. The cheers were overwhelming and Peggy's tears streamed down her cheeks freely now. It was only the crackling of her radio and Howard's voice coming through.
"Pegs?"
"Yes, Howard?"
"The nurses and your boys are comin' in hot."
"Thank you."
"When they're done...Pegs...I don't think this is all of 'em. Overhead, I saw deep lines in the snow. I think they're marchin' some outta here. I wanna follow the trail."
"Radio to the commandos...they had a hunch about that too. They're about 100 clicks from here. If you can make it to them, collect them and then follow your instinct. But be careful! Carter out."
A thin brow arched upwards as a soldier called for the people to return to their barracks. She wasn't quite sure why, but then she realised, it would be far easier for the nurses and the medics to move from barrack to barrack, seeing what they could do. More soldiers ran towards the plane bringing back the supplies and several chefs made their way to the kitchens. They were going to be making a vegetable soup. Something light--if they had something heavy, their bodies would reject it. Already they were ill and dying. They wanted to save them. Peggy watched quietly, overseeing everything but feeling rather useless.
She was about to go and help bring supplies when one of the German soldiers grabbed her, having escaped his binds. Stomping down on his foot and elbowing the bastard in his gut, Peggy turned around and decked him as hard as she could muster. His grunt and curses amused her and for good measure, she 'accidentally' stomped on his hand, the sound of bone making a satisfying crunch. She was tempted to shoot him. Her hand hovered above her pistol but she declined to stoop to his level. "Tie him back up--tightly!" She barked out before heading over towards one of her soldiers. "Agent Carter, the mutants are in barrack eight." He informed her and she frowned, "They are people too; don't insult them by saying such an inflammatory and dreadful term. They are victims too." She retorted before heading toward that direction.
Moving towards the group, Peggy took a moment, smiling gently as some of the prisoners reached out to touch her hands. She gave each of their hands gentle squeezes and offered a comforting and reassuring word. She was terrified that she would hurt them. "We will not break," one elderly woman spoke in English. "We survived this. A handshake won't do us in." She laughed at that, then crouched down when two little girls ran towards her and touched her face and her hair before giving her a hug. Peggy couldn't help but think to herself how amazing children were; that despite what had gone on all around them, all of their losses, they found a reason to smile. If it was simple as holding her hands and touching her hair, so be it. Peggy was more than happy to allow it and despite her dislike of hugs, she brought her arms around the little ones. What horrors had they seen? What effect would this have on them?
Standing up again, Peggy continued to greet the group. There weren't that many of them; perhaps forty altogether. Men shook her hand firmly and murmured their thanks to her, which she found strange, given that it had been an entire war and there were countless men and women who had endeavored to rescue all of them. Beckoning to some soldiers at the door, fresh blankets were brought in and they brought in wood, setting it in the center of the stone floor. A young woman stepped forward, hesitantly and held her hand out, a flame squarely in the center of it and lit the wood up into a blazing fire. A cheer went up amongst everyone and Peggy moved to allow them to circle the fire.
Seeing a young man standing off to the side, Peggy approached him slowly. Instantly, she noticed how he stepped back. She made a mental note that this boy had to have had a bad experience with someone in uniform. "I am not going to hurt you," she spoke softly and reassuringly, keeping her distance. "My name is Agent Peggy Carter," she began in her rudimentary Polish. "You can call me Peggy though," she offered, giving him a small smile. "May I ask what your name is?" She paused, awaiting his answer, jaw dropping slightly as he held up his sleeve, showing her the number on his arm: 214782. She raised her hand slowly, tears in her eyes again as she brushed her fingers over the tattoo. The depravity of all this...it took all of her willpower not to vomit and not to shoot every German officer in the head. A quick death would be too honourable though. She wasn't an advocate of torture but she wouldn't have minded allowing everyone here to do just that.
Placing her hand in his, she gave it a gentle squeeze. "That's not your name, darling. You are more than a number. You have a name. What did they call you before all of this?"TEMPLATE CREATED BY WONDER WOMAN (OF THE GODS.).
0 Comments
|
