The Man in Castle Wolfenstein (IC ONLY)

[Pimps Inc]

The Man in Castle Wolfenstein

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<sup>Look at down at your feet, on where you’re standing. On what clothes you’re wearing. Comfortable, cotton of luxury? Or ripped rags of slavery? Depending on that, the world is nearing a utopia or already hell on Earth. The Nazi war machine became unstoppable with jets soaring through the sky and deadly-silent electric U-boats ruling the seas. The Soviets signed that damn pact, they evaded war. Bet they don’t think it was so smart, now that they been forced to become a socialist hermit kingdom, beset by Fascists on all sides. The Nazis beat everyone to THE bomb, the Atom Bomb. New York City. A crater, a pit in the surface of the earth where a flourishing city of yearning masses once stood. Then their armies came. Legions of men in black and grey, mechanical monsters, unstoppable jet fighters stormed the shores of the United States of America. President Truman was shot in his office along with his wife, and that crooked, black cross of the Reich was raised above Washington D.C.

Its been so long...the landing in America in 1945, its 1963 now. A Generation has gone by, a whole era of humanity under the iron foot of the Ten Thousand Year Reich. Ethnic Cleansings, public ideological reeducations, mass forced labor. America is just a dream in the eyes of old. There is resistance but it's dying, short of breath and with weary back under the Nazi boot.

The Germans grow wealthy off their bitch states, while the Italians rape Africa of its resources and farm the American Midwest, sending it all back to Italy on the Mississippi. There's even rumors of Africa having been turned into a giant plantation, African slaves grown in science labs with no purpose other than a lifetime of slavery.

The Rising Sun is worshipped in the Pacific. From Korea to Hawaii and down to New Guinea, the flag flies with a iron will and strict disicipline. Where they don't rule, they install puppets, like in China, Indochina. The last resisting Australians fight on in the Outback, encircled by the Japanese advancing from the coasts.

However, not is all well in the Axis. The Germans hate the Italians, who grow fatter than them off the North American colonies the Italians contributed little to conquer during the war. The Soviets are growing restless with their nuclear weapons. Meanwhile the IJA has to put down rebellion after rebellion in their territories with little help from the IJN. The time is now, the time is ripe to strike right at the black heart of the Fascists.

Or if you ask certain people, Germania has now created a new order in the East. Together with Italy, it has also reordered southeastern Europe. Now it engaged in a decisive battle with England and France and their vassals. Great battles were raged, great victories won. Norway, the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, and France are in German hands. Alsace and Lorraine have been reincorporated into the German Reich. Two worlds are facing each other: One is the world of the young rising states, the other the world of the regurgitated declining states and Bolshevism. The German people have an unshakable will for victory. Their faith in their Führer Adolf Hitler is also unshakable. A united Germany will win the victory, and finish its fight for a Pax Germanica for all Aryan-kind and the starry cosmos above.

Whoever you are, one thing is for sure: the only thing you have to fear is fear itself.</sup>

Cobbled together by: Pimps Inc, Arengin Union, Democratic East Asia, Hashirajima, Vulkata II, Wysten, Fascist Republic of Bermuda
Coops: Arengin Union,
Reboot of The Only Thing to Fear by The Traansval, with his full blessings

OOC

[Parcia]

Written Along side Arengin Union
Undisclosed Location, 1963.
Amerikan Reich Dominion.

It was a rainy day, not strong rain it was more like a semi rough drizzle, the confetti and decorations of the new years celebration scattered throughout the plaza square. The tall pure white concrete monument to the Führer overlooking the square and the park around him, red flags with the red-white-black symbol of the Reich adorning every building, four flag poles surrounding the stature of the Führer with the Reich’s flag adorning each, and the Amerikan Dominion’s red-white-blue patterns underneath each. A symbol of the symbiotic relationship of the Reich with its dominions.

Civic cleaners did their dutiful job of cleaning up the square from what remained of the celebrations while Auxiliary Force troopers patrolled the streets, the streets were nearly empty with only a few people walking about either to their friends house or to their work if said work didn’t give them this particular day off. On the square right in front of the statute were several benches which made an entire row in front of the Führer’s view. In one of them, the one right in the middle was a man of no seeming preoccupation, wearing a simple attire of a brown suit with a blue tie and a brown hat. He seemed to be enjoying the day, the small and light raindrops falling on his hat as birds chirped and Aux Police walked in their daily patrols, the man tipping his hat at the troopers as they passed by and them doing the same with their dark blue caps. This man waited for someone, someone unknown yet he was assured he would know them when they appeared.

The Man wouldn’t know who he was looking for either, if John was to be honest with himself. Most of the details of the world around him, the lights, the sounds, the strange looks from the officers and troopers on duty shifting from confusion to fear as they spie the little black pin on his lapel and snapping to attention. He never returned the look, his mind on edge though his face was as dead pan as always.

He kept absanmidly shifting his arms a few centimeters in each direction, checking to make sure his two pistols were still there, loaded, ready for anything. He finally came upon the sight he had been told to come to, the square being swept of confetti as the fireworks boomed overhead.

He didn’t pause, nor even blink abnormally when he spied the man, the man he knew he was to meet. He shifted his arms again, checking one last time, the little paper slip burning a hole in his pocket. He approached slowly, keeping the same pace up until he reached the benches, sitting next to the man, keeping his gaze off into space as he flipped out his lighter and put a marlboro to his lips.

Taking a drag, he waited for the man to start.

The man looked at John for a brief second, eyeing him out of the corner of his eye as he sat down on the other side of the bench and began to smoke a cigarette. The two were silent for a minute or so, until finally one of them broke said silence. The man first looked up in the sky, then to the trees, noticing the wind pushing back at them. He then uttered a phrase, loud enough for the officer to hear but quiet enough to keep a low profile.

"It seems offly windy today. An omen of change don't you think?" The man said, with a casual tone. Non caring and only slightly looking at his fellow man.

John paused, remembering the phrase as it was told to him.”The wind speaks many wonders that the common man can’t hear, or doesn’t want to hear.” He awaited his response.

The man, simply known as is codename “M” to John raised his eyebrows in surprise, he had to admit, it was always a shocker when the phrase worked the first time, most of the time they either forgot it or we’re not the right person. “K has been patient with you Mr. Silvester. You got anything new for him?” M asked.


He kept his tone level and voice low. “A few things, actually.” He slipped the little envelope and handed it to him, using his under arm and sleeve to hide most of it from sight. “Three things, information on an arms shipment, mostly old gear from Kn-I mean Goering, rifles, lmgs, big thing is what looks like to be old AT weapons.”

“Second is a short list, families the SS are going to hit, don’t ask me why, I don’t know.” He paused, taking a drag. “Last is a another shipment, Alcohol, old vintage their shipping in from Japanese California, guess some NASDAP fat cat bought it privately.”

He waited for the man’s reply, shifting his arms ever so slightly.

M took hold of the envelope discreetly, hiding it inside his own sleeve and then passing a small envelope of his own to Silvester. The two never directly looking at each other, but both able to hear and infer from what the other was saying.

“I’ll make sure to get it to Keaton. You’ll find the next meeting point in that envelope, memorize it and burn it as usual. The next shipment of parts for your car should get to you hopefully by next week. Keaton will add something extra in it.” M paused as he looked at his watch, he then gave a quick eye look to Silvester followed by a question.

“You’ve gave thought to Keaton’s offer? We could use a good man like you. He says he’ll make sure your family is safe.” M awaited an answer.

It wasn’t like John hadn’t thought about it, he had, but he had come to a certain conclusion. “Not anytime soon...maybe if things change, maybe.”

M gave a small nod, the two men stayed silent for a few more minutes until finally M stood up from the bench. “We all have a choice Silvester. But options run dry quicker than we think.”

M then ave Silvester a signature hand salute, lightly chanting “Heil Hitler” to Silvester. John would stand and return the salute, but would return to his seat and watch as the fireworks go off in the sky.

[Vulkata II]

Andrew und Emma Petenham.
Boston, German East Coast.

The couple were just beginning to wake up, Emma in her blue pajamas was faster than Andrew who refused to get up after last tackling a desk with towering paperwork on it. As she shook her husband he finally stood up before an alarm clock rang and heard tiny footsteps walk down the wooden stairs before them.

Collecting themselves husband and wife followed their children downstairs, they sleepy as well but were more energetic compared to their father. As he looked outside of the window he wondered how his children would get to school in this kind of weather, the toaster was quickly fired up and slowly cooked the bread the children were to consume as the coffee maker woke up to do its duty, turning roasted beans into liquid before they were served to two mugs.

"Think that the kids could handle this rain while we're at work?" Asked Emma to which Andrew chuckled.

"Something as weak as this? Our children can handle something much stronger than this." He remarked before sipping his coffee, the sizzling grease from the strips of bacon littered their pan and were soon tousled over as two plates were prepared for the children.

As the bacon were prepared to be devoured the eggs were served first, one that had was sunny side up and one was scrambled just how the two liked them before they were conjoined by the sides of a pig, the adults on the other hand grabbed their toasts and applied jam and jelly unto them. As they finished both children ran to their separate bathrooms back upstairs and the couple looked at the only bathroom that was available downstairs.

Turning to each other both times Emma shot her husband an eyebrow before the latter extended his hand towards it.

"Ladies first." He said bowing down, standing up he had made his wife chuckle and as a reward, a kiss on his cheek before she was the first one to take a shower. Going outside to pick up the daily newspaper he quickly scanned them and was reminded of the celebration that will happen.

Being preoccupied with the headlines Andrew's turn to take a shower was fast, alerted by Emma who covered herself with a shower and ran upstairs to dress in her auxiliary uniform after telling the former of his turn to which he quickly did so. Once everyone was done and in their proper attire two honks of a car were heard.

An auxiliary police car and a Kubelwagen arrived at the scene. The children were dressed in their Hitler's Youths uniform but as classes were cut the adults were discussing something near the doorway.

"Alright, who are you taking? I already took Anakin last time plus Emily's starting puberty. I don't think you'd want to handle something as a girl's puberty." With two hands seemingly pushing her and Andrew throwing his head at another direction it was a yes on his part. As she turns around to look at both their children panic came upon her, "Anakin stop feeding the American cockroaches!"

"But they're hungry!" The eldest child said as he hovered a bar of chocolate over the aquarium filled with cockroaches. His father quickly grabbed the chocolate and took a bit off it before throwing it at their fire ant aquarium.

"We're trying to give the cockroaches a proper diet, once they're fat with nutrients from apples they'll be fit for the ants. Speaking of which." Giving the bar of chocolate to his daughter he quickly grabbed his son and started tickling him, while the boy laughed he was lifted from the floor before he could fall, "Yep. Ani over here is getting fatter, no more chocolate for you understand?"

As he slung his son on his shoulders and escorted his daughter to her mother both left, Emma locked the door tightly with a deadbolt and left to work in the police car. Andrew, running towards the exposed back of the Kubelwagen he shut the door once he was sitting on the passenger seat.

A shorter fat man wearing a similar uniform stepped his foot on the forward pedal and they all left for the streets. As he drove he threw caution at the wind by looking to his right.

"Petenham you got to stop forgetting your car, if the Reichskriminaldirektor wasn't so much of a fat piece of shit you would be walking to work right now!" The driver stated as Andrew grinned, forgetting his son was behind him.

"If the direktor wasn't so lazy he would've cut your willy right about now. Speaking of which how's Elvira?"

"Oh she is wonderful Petenham, I would give you her number but she's just for me. I pay an extra of 100 Reich dollars just so I would be her only customer."

"My gosh Ulfach, are you sure you don't have any STD's yet?"

"If I do, only she would know!" As Ulfach threw another fit of laughter their radio started to change and all was dead silent. Then, the voice of an operator from their headquarters spoke.

"Calling all available units, I repeat, calling all available units. Warrant number 405-C has been authorized, you are allowed to invade apartment block 13 over this address." Spurting out a message using only morse code Andrew tried translating how much he could and then he pointed the direction of the car towards the building.

Der Fuhrer's Best Cheap Apartments

The drizzle became rain where they went, Kubelwagens parked outside and men wearing fedoras with leather coats were outside with the public to see. Some grabbed their C96 Mauser's and attached it correctly, holding unto the magazine as the stock stuck closed to their shoulders.

Andrew readied his gun as well but was close to the door, as four other field agents walked near him all five entered the building. Whatever the warrant said it was correct, the wooden floors sounded like they were about to give even once the men entered, the landlord of the apartment was interrogated by another agent from outside while the others continued to walk to the 2nd floor.

A door had the number 13 embedded on it, one of the agents opened his coat and grabbed a lockpicking kit and the others waited for his success. Once he was able to turn the knob everyone gave him a nod before they flooded through, what seemed like the normal operation became confusion as men and women were in... Costumes.

Some were fully clothed with fur clothes, some were half naked but all had some thing in common. They had some kind of personas of wild beasts like fox and others, as Andrew stammered on words he found himself making gestured with his gun instead, 20 people were escorted at gunpoint outside with a crowd collecting themselves as another high profile arrest was being made.

With their hands above a wall another agent grabbed a megaphone and faced the crowd.

"For aligning with yourselves with the untermenschen, much less wearing clothes like those all of you have been judged by the watchful eyes of Der Fuhrer Adolf Hitler and of the Gestapo, your sentence, is death." Quickly the attention was shifted to a truck that was heard for effect, a Sd.Kfz. 7/1 driven by a auxiliary police officer and the flak vierling operated by a Gestapo agent in uniform just like the others had stopped on the audience's side of the street.

The rest of the agents stood away from the furries before the barrels of the vierling became heated, flashes of light temporary blinded the crowd but as soon as the deed was done, the apartment's exterior had a red splash of paint outside filled with bodies. The auxiliary police driver called for backup to clean the bodies as the agents retreated to their Kubelwagens.

As Anakin watched the scene with a front seat Andrew turned to his child, smiled, and said.

"This is what happens to untermenschen Ani, don't you even dare talk to them unless you'd want that," pointing at the bodies, "to happen understand?"

His son nodded before he himself sat back to the passenger seat. The radio thanked the men and told them to return back to HQ to which a convoy of Kubelwagen's drove back to Beacon Hill.

[Danceria]

Karl-Franz Fromm
“We want to be a united nation, and you, my youth, are to become this nation. In the future, we do not wish to see classes and castes, and you must not allow them to develop among you. One day, we want to see one nation.”
Fuhrer Adolf Hitler, Triumph of the Will

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Somewhere, Vinings Georgia, Reichskommissariat Amerika…
0846 hrs, Local Time…

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The sun reminded the young blond that he had to be conscious, or at least, awake himself as this wasn’t his house. Memories of the previous night gradually came to him, as he staggered to his feet to discover where he was. He was in the Walker-Stanton House, good...but he had a throbbing head, which was less than good. Partying on a New Years Eve could do that to you. Groaning to announce brilliant sun that yes, he was indeed awake and to tone down it’s wrathful rays. With that, he fell into a routine. No keys had fallen out, his hair was still a mess, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, and he could still step over occasionally snoring piles of white sheets adorned with red circles and crosses. After adjusting his clothing, he decided to step outside for some fresh air. As soon as the door would- ah, there we go!

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It was a mild morning in his hometown, barely enough outside of Dogwood city to be considered a town on it’s own. New Years had come and gone, and he looked like he rolled out of bed. Morning dew could still be tasted with every deep breath he took, and look who it was. “Rob!” the young man who had stuck with him throughout High School, good old Robert “Rocket-Arm” Rogers, star pitcher for the Grady High Knights, sitting and coring a leftover apple. “Mornin’ sleeping beauty!” the auburn haired ban chuckled and tossed him a slice, of which the young blond fumbled before consuming. “Thought you were supposed to be the sober ride. If it weren’t for m’ robes, Gestapo Gus’d’ve carried your ass to the clink, an’ you know I ain’t payin fer your bail.” “Et tu, rotzlöffel Rob? When your bike was bust, I leant you the car, and this is the thanks I get?” he chuckled good naturedly and sat down on the porch. “Nobody staggered off?” “None up ‘ere, kommundadt. All’s quiet in Vinings.” the young Klansman yawned “You best got some marks in yer mitt, cuz I need some caffeine in my system a few hours ago.” “Get your own, beggar! I may be charitable, but I ain’t no charity.” “Fine, I’ll split it with ya…’ve got…” Robb rustled through his pockets “Seven on me right now. We’ll split it. Considering I just gave you an appetizer.” he gestured to the apple. “Fine, fine. But what about the rest of ‘em?” the blond gestured towards the half opened door, and the occupants of the house. “Leave it to Quincy ta’ figure out. C’mon, let’s bounce before our folks get mad.”

Another day began, and the two decided to walk right into it.

Tossing the half cored apple in one hand, Robb swapped stories with his blond compatriot, or rather, as many antics as they could remember first thing in the morning. Celebrating a successful toss into the nearest trashcan, the duo were interrupted by a familiar barking, and an even more familiar young blonde girl. She stood shorter than than the young blond, donning denim shorts, a sports jacket, and a form-fitting t-shirt. Far more befitting of a bellicose young boy than the kid sister of a star of the school. “Karl.” She calmly regarded the tall blond. “Figured you’d be somewhat sober this time, Freya’s been worried sick ‘bout you.” The tan Great Dane bounded up to his owner, and embraced him with a slobbery tongue. “An’ don’t you go get breakfast without me!” “Ah, fine, fine...I know…” Karl grabbed the leash for the dog, “Let’s head over Vienerwald’s and grab some grub.”

With that, the trio now walked towards the scent of roast chicken and breakfast.

[Wysten]

Fort Benning Georgia January 1st 0200

The Jeep pulled forward through the bitter cold past the multiple houses that house some of the best the Klan had to offer. The driver kept on driving until he pulled up to a small and what seemed to be a normal house on the block. The car stopped and the engine shut off giving the local area a short time of pure silence with only the wind being heard. Suddenly the door opened and a young man stepped out. Grabbing his things he nodded to the driver saying a short thanks before walking into the house. Walking inside he let out a sigh as the warm air greeted him though just being out of training it didn't affect him much either way. Setting the suitcase on the table he walked over to the pantry and opened it. Running his hands down over the shelves he put his hand on one and pushed in for suddenly it pushed the wall open revealing a staircase. Closing the door behind him he slowly walked down the stairs until he reached another door knocking on it the small slit at eye level opened and with it a voice came from it. “Password?” The voice asked. “Sierra Bravo 1-1-9” The man responded.

Suddenly the door opened to what seemed a massive room filled with maps files and personnel. Walking in he saw an older man for who he recognized. “General Langston.” He said giving a salute and corresponding victory salute with the general responding in the same manner. “Sergeant Paul Jackson.” Langston said giving a handshake. “Welcome to the 1st Knights.” He said with a small hint or pride. “Thank you sir might I ask where Captain Trens is?” He asked scanning the room trying to find him. “Oh he is busy getting his feet wet.” The General said looking over maps of what seemed to be Canada. “How wet sir?” The Sargent asked. “Probably freezing wet by now.”


Somewhere in Canada January 1st

The snow was always bad this time of year with it being an almost constant fact of life this far north that's not to say Captain Hank Trens didn't like it though he preferred if he was operating in Cuba. Lighting a cigar he hoped into a truck and sat there for a minute glancing at his teammate Nathan Sanderson. “With our luck the next place we are going to be sent is the desert in Nevada.” He said his voice having a tad bit of mirth. Hank laughed as he started the truck. “This is Viking 0-1 to Hunter 1-1 moving goods to Objective Kingfish over.” He said into the comms. “Roger Viking 0-1 setting up overwatch on Kingfish in case things get hot out.” Said Hunter 1-1. “Roger Hunter 1-1 Viking 0-1 out.” Hank said driving off towards the base.

[Greater Redosia]

Erik Arnarson
Arnarson's Ice Cream Place, Charlottesville, Virginia
January 1st, German East America

The bedroom was a complete mess and Erik was still sound asleep in his bed, the television playing Are You Smarter Than a Hitler Youth was playing silently without sound as he turned down the volume before he slept. He was then abruptly awoken by the blaring of his alarm clock which his quickly smashed the snooze button. He knew he had once again another busy day ahead of him.

He got himself dressed and walked down the stairs, he hand't open the store yet for a good reason. He walked into the freezer, good lord it was cold of course to store all the ice cream; shit wasn't cheap anymore as it once was. He closed the door behind him and opened a secret compartment that revealed a hidden stash under the floor, inside were crates that were labeled with bold words "Ice Cream". But he knew better, they were full of weaponry for the American Liberation Army and eventually some would come by to pick them up. But when was another question, not much detail was given to him to make sure his cover wouldn't be blown. They needed him as much as he needed them, so it was mutual in a way he thought as he placed the fake flooring back to the way it was. Exiting the freezer he walks over to the door, crouching down as he finds an envelope.

"Make sure you have the flavors ready, nothing else tastes the best. -signed, a loyal customer" He knew what it all meant, but sometimes all the secrecy was just taking too long and he ripped it all into pieces and threw it away in the bin behind the counter. He sighed and put on his uniform, turning the open sign on and unlocking the door. He put on a smile as he turned a radio on, playing whatever junk the Nazis always played. Just another day, more reichsmarks in the bank and the Nazis not breathing down his neck. Or so he continued to hope.

A group of three enter the store and he smiles, "Hello, welcome to Anarson's Ice Cream Place. How may I help you~" and the day only got more busy onward from there.

[Arengin Union]

Dominio de Italia Americana. Nova Roma, formally New Orleans.

The early morning was still gray and calm as a lonely transport ship arrived all the way from far away places like Virginia and even the Empire itself. The Italian green, white, and red flag flying gloriously on this ship as it began to set its direction towards the dock bays of Nova Roma, capital of the Italians holding of America. Inside this boat came a load full of fresh faces from Italy, Amerika, and other places, as well as shipment such as spices and other provisions coming from the African colonies. The many inside the boat were eager as they got close to the ships deck to see the city of Nova Roma. People speaking in both English and Italian were excited for a life that was much easier and lenient under the Italians here in the American South. Inside the boat there were Italian soldiers of course, no ship coming from the Empire of Il Duce's came unaccompanied with at least 4 Italian soldiers guarding the goods. The people in the ship didnt mind as they were preoccupied with the ship coming close to the dock.

Among these many people were 3 most distinguishable fellows. All of them wearing a variety of clothes that didn't quite fit with the "Immigrant" crowd. The Italian guards inside the ship knew this, but they payed little to no attention, as they were supposed to.

The man that most stuck out among the three was of a tall posture, wearing a brown leather jacket and a dark cap, carrying a burlap bag on his back. The man carried himself with authority as he walked among the crowd, skipping through the crowd with ease as the ship set itself on a dock. The other two men followed close. There was light drizzle and a lot of remains from the new years celebration, Italian mini flags scattered, green, red, and black confetti. It looked like a real party had passed by.

The man with the brown jacket moved into the dock, passing by the registry booth where all newly arrivals had to sign in. A single officer stood by the space passing by the booth and didn't even stop the man, the two exchanged looks and then nodded to each other. When the three men passed freely the officer finally closed the gap with a fence and moved with other soldiers in their green fatigues to move the new crowd into line.

So far it had all gone without a hitch as the trio moved into the city. Passing by the fisheries and the bay businesses of varying articles. Arriving to the entrance of the main town. It was a very brief walk, the city was not what it had been before the war, it was expanding but also a lot of it had been lost during the fighting. The trio made it to the downtown square and was meet by the sight of a big crow gathering outside the town hall, what used to be a simple center of town was now adorned with flags of the empire and a tsunami of posters of Il Duce himself.

Right on the town hall gathering was a platform where Vicente Donelo himself was making a speech, guards in black uniforms around the platforms and the balconies and the rooftops of the buildings around the square. Both in English and Italian to a very mixed crowd, a lot of it rich investors from the empire who wished to set their sights in America rather than Africa. All wearing fancy suits and dresses, there were also the owners of the factories from the outskirts of the city, they worked for the Italians and Germans by extension in exchange for a chance at the free market. German officers were also present, some SS while the others Wehrmacht.

The trio stood at the other side of the square, observing until the speech was on its final words.

"And so, to conclude! We at Nova Romana welcome our new benefactors from both the Empire and the Reich. And we also give the chance of greatness to our good new Americans citizens in this new era of prosperity for us all!" With that Donelo finished to a lackluster set of appluses. It was clear he tried to paint himself as the American Duce, but instead he was called the "Douchebag" by anyone not around him. As the speech came to an end and the crowd disperses, the trio got closer to the Italian Governor. Donelo was the Empires Governor of the American Colonies, the benevolent fat administrator of everyone's lives here and the second in command in the region second to Il Duce himself, in theory. Though the Germans were on his ass 24/7 about the many attacks on convoy routes that the ALA for some reason always knew the locations of. Donelo was being berated by one of the SS officers as the trio watched, keeping their distance.

Donelo for his part was the quite charm talker as he quickly got the officer to calm down and soon he was by himself with only his bodyguards in black uniforms. He had noticed the trio observing the whole thing and with glee he opened his arms to them.

"Ahhh, Jonatan my boy." He said with a very thick Italian accent, approaching the man in the brown jacket and grabbing him by the shoulders almost father like. The fat Italian palled in size to the American, whose name was John, John Murphy.

"It is sooo good to see you ragazzo!" Donelo said as he then got to Murphy's side, keeping his right arm around him and basically the two began to walk together.

"Have you got what I asked you for from your trip?" Donelo said, and Murphy gave no speech answer, instead opening his sack to reveal an wooden box which Donelo grabbed excitedly, he opened it slightly then looked at Murphy and smiled.

"Jonatan you never disappoint do you?" Donelo said with a big smile.

"I try not to." Murphy said with indifference.

Donelo setting the box inside his massive coat then moved on to a less friendly tone and more worried.

"Now, you know that I like you Jonatan." The two kept walking, with the companions of the two men following close behind.

"You're like the son I never wanted... or more like a... ahg how do you say it. A nipote, a nephew of sorts." Donelo kept a slight silence, Murphy was getting impatient.

"What do you want Vicente?" Murphy cut to the chase.

Donelo raised an eyebrow but as always be smiled. "Ah, straight to the point as always. You see my boy, the Tedeschi's have been on my ass since that attack of yours on their new convoy route. Now you know I like giving you info, you know I try to help your cause and you help mine, but I wanna ask you to ease off on your attack on the Germans, si?"

"Now why would I do that? Vicente, we don't bother you, you don't bother us. That is the deal, unless you want the other way around." Murphy retort with an aggressive tone to the fat little man, closing in with his fists clenched and eyes of anger.

"Calma, calma bambino." Donelo said with sweat covering his fattened face. Murphy backed off, he had made his point.

"What I want from you my boy, is not to stop your fight. Simply, ease off the Germans, ease on them and they'll ease on me and we don't have to lose nothing. Ease for an ease as you Americans say." Donelo still with his arm around Murphy smiled with content.

"We never say that. Like... never." Murphy replied with confusion.

Donelo gave a loud laugh, setting both hands on his chest as his signature laugh. "Oh Jonatan, you Americans are funny. Well, I said my piece. Make sure no to be in too many troubles bien? See you around." And with that, Donelo moved back with his guards and towards the town hall building. Murphy stood there for a bit, he then looked at his subordinates and walked towards them, then the trio began making their way to the outside of town.

"What did he want?" One rebel said.

"Not your concern soldier." Murphy answered, and with that the group arrived to the outside of town and began making their way through the dirt track roads.

[Higher Japan]

American West Coast

"Team 1 is to prepare for sortie immediately, please report to the flight deck immediately. Repeat, team 1 is to prepare for sortie immediately..." The announcement on the intercom ran through all 7 ships, now slowly cruising closer and closer towards the American west coast under the cover of night. It was a somewhat simple operation in a sense, prepare to take flight if needed in the case that their Type 98 recon plane was sighted and get out once the data had been gathered and the operative dropped off into the American mainland. They'd run through these kinds of operations many times before and rarely did they get intercepted that much.

Aboard the San Diego, the modified type 98, designed to be larger with enough capacity to carry an eject-able passenger, was loaded into the catapult. "Admiral, on your command." Wilson looked out towards the black sea and flashing lights, nodding to acknowledge it as he turned towards the officer in charge of the catapult."Tell the Bogue to prepare team 1, and launch the recon plane." Once the order was given, all that could be seen were a few sparks as the recon plane took off, flying towards the American west coast with an operative in the rear waiting for the drop.

"This is echo 1, launch successful, currently at 5,000 ft. Beginning recon operation." Soon, it was flying over the American west coast as it quickly photographed whatever it could which was mainly a massive network of lights for the crew at the Bogue to further analyze. Upon completing it's run, the operative was dropped off via parachute as his seat and floor below him opened, currently flying at roughly 1,200 ft at the moment. The operation has been successful, too successful.

Aboard the Bogue a radar officer spotted something currently trailing the Type 98. "1..2..bloody hell get Admiral Wilson on the line!" He shouted, immediately pulling the alarm closest to his station as the entire bridge went into a near lock down mode, lights being supplemented by red emergency lights. Aboard the San Diego, Admiral Wilson finally got a report of what was happening. The Japs had been flying at at least 10,000 ft to avoid detection, trailing the recon craft and waiting for it to lead it back towards the carrier force. "Scramble team 1 and prepare for the second wave." A communications officer nodded and quickly signaled towards the Bogue and within seconds, the sound of propellers and oil engines roared through the sky as the first team consisting of 5 F4Fs took off while another prepared. Currently the enemy stood at roughly 8 with 5 fighter escorts and 3 bombers both of unknown model, both sides currently speeding towards each other for an inevitable dog fight as the fleet prepared for Anti-Air maneuvers.

[Arengin Union]

Erik Arnarson
Arnarson's Ice Cream Place, Charlottesville, Virginia
January 1st, German East America

The bedroom was a complete mess and Erik was still sound asleep in his bed, the television playing Are You Smarter Than a Hitler Youth was playing silently without sound as he turned down the volume before he slept. He was then abruptly awoken by the blaring of his alarm clock which his quickly smashed the snooze button. He knew he had once again another busy day ahead of him.

He got himself dressed and walked down the stairs, he hand't open the store yet for a good reason. He walked into the freezer, good lord it was cold of course to store all the ice cream; shit wasn't cheap anymore as it once was. He closed the door behind him and opened a secret compartment that revealed a hidden stash under the floor, inside were crates that were labeled with bold words "Ice Cream". But he knew better, they were full of weaponry for the American Liberation Army and eventually some would come by to pick them up. But when was another question, not much detail was given to him to make sure his cover wouldn't be blown. They needed him as much as he needed them, so it was mutual in a way he thought as he placed the fake flooring back to the way it was. Exiting the freezer he walks over to the door, crouching down as he finds an envelope.

"Make sure you have the flavors ready, nothing else tastes the best. -signed, a loyal customer" He knew what it all meant, but sometimes all the secrecy was just taking too long and he ripped it all into pieces and threw it away in the bin behind the counter. He sighed and put on his uniform, turning the open sign on and unlocking the door. He put on a smile as he turned a radio on, playing whatever junk the Nazis always played. Just another day, more reichsmarks in the bank and the Nazis not breathing down his neck. Or so he continued to hope.

A group of three enter the store and he smiles, "Hello, welcome to Anarson's Ice Cream Place. How may I help you~" and the day only got more busy onward from there.

Arnarson's Ice Cream Place, Charlottesville, Virginia
January 2nd, German East America

Another day of business as usual for Anarson, with customers of both civilian life and military life came in and out of his business. Despite it being the middle of winter the ice cream business never truly went away. Everyone enjoyed ice cream no matter what type of day, that's what made Anarson glad, that he could maintain a good lifestyle with the income he received from his business, even with the Reich tax fees there was still good money to spare.

Outside of the store came a peculiar volkswagen 59, with a dark green tone that stood out among the other cars around. The vehicle parked itself right in front of the store. Two men came out of the car, one of them wearing a long brown trench coat, an accompanying hat with him, the other wore a simpler outfit, with a simple leather jacket and a red scarf covering his neck. The two men entered the store, the little bell on the top of the door ringing as the two men walked in.

The store was empty, at least from regular customers. Anarson right at the front counter as always, he probably already knew what these two men were here for. The one with the long trench coat stood at the table top in front of the window, looking around and always keeping his hands in his pockets, the right arm looked loose, almost as if the arm was not even in the sleeve but in the inside of the coat.

The other gentlemen with the jacket and scarf walked right up to Anarson. With a smirk in his bearded face he then spoke.

"Im looking for nothing else but the best flavors. I was told I could find them here. With that, the man then took our an orange packet and subtly slid it to Anarson's hand. The packet contained a large rack of "beneficiarie" donations.

Mississippi-Louisiana Border.
Mississippi River, January 2nd 1963.

It was the early hours of the day, the sun barely coming out and covered by a thick mist that overtook the entirety of the river. The sound of frogs overtook the river's waves while the wind moved the trees leafs in a single direction. It was a tranquil morning, with the river empty from any sign of human touch and the creatures of these wetlands going in their day to day business. Frogs catching flies, cranes catching frogs, gators catching cranes, a non stop circle.

Hidden within the marsh and the typha plants, or "corn dogs" as locals called them were several men and women armed with Kar 98's, Thompsons, MP 50's and 40's, and even some M1 Garands and bazooka's predating the years of Axis occupation. The group of fighters hid within the thick marshes at the side of the river, taking cover and waiting, waiting for the signal.

One of this fighters was John Murphy himself, carrying a harness of ammunition and the signature red-white-blue armband of the ALA. Hidden inside a long tree, he had a detonator in his hands and a Sturmgewehr 60 in his back. Right underneath his position were other fighters fitted with a variety of gear both German and American as well as weaponry of both sides. The two very sides of the river were filled with dozens of fighters, hidden and unnoticed by the passing PT boats of the Reich. They were all waiting patiently, they had been since 12 AM.

"John..." A low voice said towards the ALA captain. Murphy was occupied as he looked through his binoculars to the river, he couldn't see a damn thing with the thick mist.

"JOHN!" The voiced said yet again.

"What?!" Murphy finally snapped at the impatient fighter underneath the tree branch.

"Do you see it?" The fighter asked.

"I said I'll tell you when I do. Fuck." Murphy answered, annoyed as he went back to look through the binoculars.

"Got it." The fighter said as he went back to his position.

[Vulkata II]

Gestapo Headquarters, Beacon Hill.
January 2nd, German East Coast

Kubelwagen's were parked at both sides as well as in front of what used to be Massachusetts State House, a whole two kilometer radius was removed in case any unwanted personnel were to "visit" the previous government building, leaving only a few businesses to open near them as a way to distract the agents of their assignments, most of them are just diners and cafe anyway.

Several agents were training their dogs or themselves with breaching tactics, arrests scenarios and many more activities that kept everyone on their feet. The inside bustled with activity as radio operators and field agents walking about and/or were doing their jobs. Phone calls were intercepted, CCTV cameras that were disguised as street lamp lights were being monitored and files were being read, researched, or authorized.

No one in the headquarters were allowed to act static, no one except the Reichskriminaldirektor who watched everyone else as he looked down upon them work as the Oberregierungsrat behind him busied himself with the stacks of paperwork on the former's table. Andrew Petenham along with other field agents, some plainclothes others in their brown leather coats, were called upon the meeting room.

The meeting room used to be a room the House of Representatives though when the Gestapo moved in, they found the Sacred Cod overhanging them to be silly and threw it in storage. Taking their seats in front of the state's Kriminalkommissar the latter sighed in frustration as the lights of the meeting place died and a large white screen descended upon him before the light of a projector had brighten the room only for a little.

Statistics were shown of the crime rates and arrests rates, their quota of 500 arrests a month wasn't near that amount as the citizens of Boston were under the spell of the Gestapo. In retrospect this was fine but as soon the Oberkommando des Gestapo enforced that every state Gestapo in Amerika need 500 arrests, it wasn't helping that they demanded high profile arrests.

"This does not mean all of you are working lazy, if anything, I thank you all for your dedication but the most recent arrest yesterday was only the 1st one so far, much less the year. The Amerikans are more docile now compared to our early years and the need for Lebensraum will cause too much damage of property that there would be lots available instead of buildings, plus if it's just an objective that we are going for then we betray the Fuhrer's ideas of having a political will while doing so."

Grunts and other noise of dismay were shared throughout the room. The agents that worked each and every day were getting tired of the quota but continued doing so. The meeting continued, more statics, more paperwork, and the appreciative message of their request being rejected. Again. Was told to everyone in the room to which another wave of frustration were shared.

Once that was over, everyone but Andrew Petenham left, the Kriminalkommissar sat next to him and opened up a file to which both men read.

"We had another transfer file. Been a while since we last had someone coming over here, but besides the point of where appreciation for our jobs are thrown out of the window the file says that John Silvester might end up being transferred here, if we're lucky he will be." Andrew looked over the man as he finished.

"What does this have to do with me?"

"Well seeing as you're the one that likes to drive around Boston, even with the risk of being shot let me just criticize you on that, I thought you'd be the one that would tour him around once it has been confirmed he's moving. And once he does, stop leaving your damn car around!"

Snickering a little Andrew nodded and pulled out his own car keys. The Kriminalkommissar nodded and left with Andrew following behind.

Staatlichepolizei Headquarters
Emma Petenham

About a 4 minute drive away from the Gestapo Headquarters was the Staatliche Polizei Headquarters, though a little less defended with it having an underground parking with roads surrounding it the large building stored M1A4 Grease Gun's, STG-44's, and other easily concealed weapons that they were able to keep as well as narrow hallways that made the lunch rushes asking for a stampede. Housing three police organizations, the Kriminalpolizei, the Ordnungspolizei, and the Sicherheitspolizei, it was heavily secured with policemen many of which are German while some were Amerikans that proved their loyalty to the organizations through means that were against their kin.

Emma Petenham in her office suit and tie was just as busy as her husband, drinking coffee in her cubicle she distracted herself by swinging her swivel chair left and right with only her feet the life. Pictures of her children were observed instead of pictures of crime scenes that were non-existent.

Though a monthly quota that the Gestapo of Boston had did not exist materially for the Staatlichepolizei the statics of crime affected both organizations that resulted in them being static though the latter proved to be more static as the high profile arrests and desperation that others were willing to achieve to satisfy High Command did not give the former breathing room to laze around and gave their employees something to do.

The only mutual relationship of flesh and glass were met once more as the light brown coffee in Emma's hand proved to be too weak and relied on someone to wake her up.

[Arengin Union]

Mississippi-Louisiana Border.
Mississippi River, January 2nd 1963.

As dawn began to break, the German PT boat night patrols were starting to dwindle, the rebels were unnoticed for the time they had been waiting. Many had their pazerfausts and other rocket launchers at the ready, still hidden within the marshes of the Mississippi river and none ever moving for any reason at all. Murphy for his part had kept his eyes waiting for the big prize, and though it came a bit off schedule from what the contact's info had said, they were ready.

Out from the looming mist came the sound of waves moving violently, pushed aside by a massive structure of the seas. An enormous cruiser ship that had the iron cross symbol on both sides near the bow and carrying the hated red-black-white of the Reich at the deck and the very front of the ship. The symbol that all of these men and women had come to hate with a passion, they had lost all to the Reich, their lives, their homes, even their children. A future that had shattered under the boot of the fascist reign of terror, anyone that sided with the Reich was the enemy, anyone within the Reich, the Empire, or the Romana were to die. These people who had lost it all would never cease to fight until the very last bullet, until the very last fighter, never surrender. No matter the cost, they would tear down the Nazi flag from the Capitol, then from the Big Ben, then from the Eiffel tower, all the way until Berlin, and the blood of those that had taken it all away would flow in the streets at the hands of a violent revolution to take back what they all had lost.

The cruiser sailed out of the mist and into the sight of Murphy, this cruiser was the supposed arms shipment headed to who knows where. The ALA didn't care to find out, they cared about those weapons not getting to enemies hands, and indeed they would never get there.

Within the cruiser the crew was tranquil and calm as the ship kept moving through the river, most of the sailors in their quarters or the mess halls, reading books or watching T.V. shows. The guard was not very big, still the 30mm cannons at the front and the side had geared up sailors near them in case of anything. Still the reports had said this area was largely clear and the PT boats had already patrolled it recently. There was no reason to worry. Yes indeed it looked like the Krauts would be able to take the shipment undisturbed, then suddenly all tranquility was stopped as the ship colluded with something, the sudden collision made everyone lose their balance and this was immediately followed by an explosion right on the straboard's hull. The crew didn't have time to react before several rockets were fired from both sides of the riverway.

Within the marsh on both sides of the river the fighters armed with panzerfausts and bazookas fired them onto the ship's main decks, blowing up everything on sight as the crew within the ship began to ready themselves to battle. The other fighters armed with small arms readied themselves for any remainder of the crew as the rocket launchers kept firing on the ship. Dozens of rockets landed onto the deck, the bridge was decimated, whomever the captain was he sure wasn't coming back from that one.

The ship took fire and began to sink as it took water from the explosion on the hull. The remaining crew reached the topside, armed with rifles, submachine guns, and assault rifles many were gunned down as they rushed out from inside the ship to the outside decks. The rockets ceased to fire, as only a few remained from both sides and so the remaining ALA fighters fired their small arms at the burning ship.

M1 Garands, carbines, MP45's and 50's, STG50's and 60's. All were fired onto the ship at the mere sight of the enemy. It was hell fire, the smoke from the burning remains of the ship's top covered the once white surroundings and lightened up the entire area. The sun wasn't even fully up yet and the surrounding area was covered by an orange aura of the surrounding fire.

Soon the sailors from the ship had crawled their way from cover to cover to their positions. Only to receive hails of bullets from their unseen enemy the second they peaked their heads to fire. German blood ran through the ship's floor, with bodies everywhere, both in intact flesh and burning flesh from the wave of rockets.

Soon it was all over, the entire ship was sinking, burning along with the damned Nazi flag, no one would be left alive. At least not anyone that could be seen by the ALA fighters. For all they cared they had won already. As the ship sunked, the remaining sailors and crew jumped into the water and were immediately gunned by the ALA. Rebels armed with all kinds of weapons moving in from the marshes into the shallow water and firing on anyone that rose from the river. Soon it seemed that everyone was dead, blood flowing and the bodies of many Germans floating lifelessly along the river.

Murphy, who had gone through several magazines from his assault rifle then spoke. "Alright people, let's move out. We're done here!" As soon as he said this the entirety of the ALA fighting force began to scatter, picking up the unused rockets and beginning to scatter into the forests of Mississippi and Louisiana. Murphy looked out into the river, the orange tint of the fire surrounded him as he looked at the ship sink further down into the river. He saw the Nazi flag on the very front, sinking down. He then racked his rifle and fired several rounds into the flag, tattering it with bullet holes. With that, the commander left, following behind his men and disappearing into the woods of Louisiana.

[Parcia]

Gestapo HQ, Beacon Hill, Boston

The standard issue car for the Gestapo Des Amerika was the Kublewaggon, a good, sturdy little porch car that has its roots int he staff cars and recon teams of the old Heer. How ever, it was distinctive, with a common sound that alerted everyone with in 150 meters of what was coming.

The 1959 Cadillac Coup De Ville was most definitely not a Gestapo car, but a rare American classic found among the swaths of state produce German cars. This particular one was a rebuild, a complete overhaul to meet the needs of the Vice agent who currently drove it through Bostons streets. The stock 390 cu inch had been replaced with a 410, pushing nearly 395 hp from the standard 325, meaning the 5k pound car could hit nearly 200 miles in a straight away and was arguably one of the fastest cars in Amerika.

It also sounded Ever so much cooler as the beast of a V8 screeched with un-holy horse power as he approached the Gold domed building. He was being re-assigned to the northern City of Boston. Great, like he wanted to be attached to some stiff upper lip Gestapo by the book officer. He didn't like it, but what he liked wasn't important to the Gestapo.

He turned heads as the pitch black car slowed to a drift before settling in to a empty parking spot. He got out in one fluid motion and locked the door behind him. His gunmetal grey three piece being a stark contrast to the grey trench coats of his co-workers.

He made his way inside, passed the security check, and made his way to his new partners office.

[Higher Japan]

FELC Fleet

"Enemy incoming, watch your fire!" With that, the battle over the fleet soon commenced, planes tangoing in a desperate battle for supremacy while bombers continued onward. Over the fleet from the sea, it looked only like quick moving lights, tracer and the occasional fire ball as planes went down into the sea. As the bombers closed in over the fleet, Wilson looked up before looking at his communication's officer. "They're closing in, get the 2nd wave out now! Return anti air fire, searchlights authorized." Soon, searchlights from all 7 ships came online, swishing through the dark sky as anti air fire lit the sky up as well, although it was mainly ineffective due to them being Japanese guns but some were effective, smoke trailing from a bomber before an explosions could be heard in the sky.

"Bomber's broken through, take cover!" Looking at the Bogue, it all happened too fast as Wilson felt a minor shock move through the ship as it shook slightly, the movement helping to down the bomber that was now flying away. Looking up, he didn't need the emergency lights anymore as he saw what was in front of him. The Bogue, the pride and joy of the FELC, was now on fire. Her crew quickly tried to contain the fire amidst the anti-air maneuvers, some planes being thrown overboard as they were beyond repair suffering engine explosions while some were quickly lowered back in. "No choice, begin retreat-" Wilson shouted through the radio to all ships as his ship shook slightly, before he heard alarms going off.

"We're hit, stern explosion! Turret 5 is on fire!" However, after the 2 explosions to the fleet, the entire unit turned around and fled, planes quickly returning back towards the Bogue as destroyers deployed an additional smoke screen to cover their escape. "The fleet is damaged, we can't help you further or else we're sure to be destroyed. We leave the rest to you, good luck, and may god be with you." Wilson said through the radio towards the now disappearing American mainland as the dropped off operative listened in, before heading off towards the rendezvous point.

West Coast, FELC American Branch Command Center

Following the attack and successful damage of their carrier and flagship, the FELC was currently in an uproar especially over in the American west coast as a massive paper map, now covered in red lines representing Japanese factories with their packed nature along with pins that glowed due to luminous paint representing major threats. Before it were a few rows of desks, mappers and radio operators working together and giving live updates. A few pins on the map glowed red, representing them as major threats possessing tanks while the yellow pins represented moderate threats with lighter armed vehicles while green pins were garrisons, easy pickings.

"We got one." An operator called out, a green pin being removed from the map with a grey one representing it being subdued now taking it's place as the chatter of the base continued. The FELC had been making some advancements and gains in the field, although by now even their own front wasn't as strong. Previously owned armored US vehicles soon began to grow outclassed by the rapidly modernizing Japanese tanks. Small but deadly enough to fight in the urban environment with their size. The base thankfully was underground on the outskirts so there wasn't much the Japs could do.

"Calling team 'Husky', repeat, team 'Husky' is to prepare to sortie immediately." The voice on the intercom called out, everyone stopping for a moment before returning back to their business.

In the hangar bays of the base, mainly containing some left over transports and vehicles, the team prepared to sortie onward as instructions had been given directly from high command. Currently, Team 6 of the forward striking force was engaged directly with Japanese forces, yellow class threat and they had been pinned. Once loaded with the required weapons, Type 97 rifles that had been saved from being scrapped, Type 38 rifles and some older Garands and Carbines. Their mission was simple, help the team break out and lose the Japanese. Soon, the truck took off towards the location of Japanese forces.

[Vulkata II]

Gestapo Headquarters, Richmond Virginia.
January 3rd, German East Coast


The buzzing of telephones and tired field agents filled with headquarters. Too many false alarms had wasted their resources that they had relied on the KKK to help with their investigations seeing as they were native to the neighborhood and would know who is who and what a false alarm is compared to the Europeans that settled the buildings.

On another note, seeing as some members were not fluent to English they had made a code that only their allies could receive though due to how amateurish the codemaker was it would sound as if the Gestapo headquarters were a paleontologist organization instead of a secret police. An agent was sleeping in front of a phone as it rang, essentially becoming an alarm clock and in a moment's notice he had woken from his nap and was conscious enough to understand and remember the code they made.

"Richmond Paleontologist Committee how can I help you?" The agent said as he waited for a response.

"Greetings, we have a problem here. A Plesiosaurus fossil has been discovered in the Mississippi river and but all of the fish surrounding it is floating or has been devoured." The face of the agent turned from smiling to fear as he understood what was just relayed. He nodded to the phone though the other line wouldn't see it and tried to respond with something that was within the made up language.

"Ri- Right. We'll send an excavation team there, thank you." Dropping the phone he rubbed his eyes for a second before the agent stood up from his chair, turned backwards and shouted from the balcony below what he just received. Not long after other field agents dressed up to look like engineers and ship workers to avoid suspicion had gathered in the parking lot and chose pickup trucks that were donated and repaired to drive to the scene.

The Louisiana Headquarters were dressed up as if they were from a private security firm had already arrived, they had to make due with diving teams and waterproof cameras. The crews of U-Boats were questioned when something as big as a cruiser left port, when they last protected it and if they heard anything that night. Civilians were asked questions to whether or not they heard something that night.

With agents having different and common talents the ones that were known for being excellent investigators had joined in a circle as the pictures were given to them. With confirmation from other agents they made these guesses:

• With scorch marks on the sides and deck, many rockets were use against the cruiser.
  
• The disappearance of weaponry the crew were not killed instantaneously but rather, fought back in vain.
  
• Quick autopsies had told a time period. Compared to the sailors that were plucked floating around versus the ones that were found submerged due to the inability to swim and/or heavy equipment, pathologist has confirmed that the ship had been attacked early in the morning. Corresponding to this were statements from the U-boat sailors but more autopsies are required to properly make an educated guess.
  
  Conclusion:If the ones that had caused this attack had committed the atrocity early in the morning, more or less at the struck of midnight then they would be as far as 100 kilometers from the site. Possibly even 1000 if they were on a vehicle, as for now, a perimeter of at least 250 feet must be investigated.
  
  Civilians must be asked if they have seen strange personnel walking about that night.

And with that, the bodies of the sailors were brought to both states for investigation purposes and the ship was left sunk until a tugboat or any other ship brings it back.

Beacon Hill.
Andrew Petenham

The early morning light had made the muzzle flashes of the C96 Schnellfeuer a little visible but that was thanks to the shades of the few trees that were erect in the shooting range. Andrew Petenham along with other agents were testing their aim at the range, both semi-automatic and single fire capabilities were tried and tested until they grew tired or ran out of bullets and had to get in.

Andrew was the former, asking the others if they wished for coffee he was ignored as his brothers in arms were more focused on the shooting range. Going back inside the headquarters coffee was served in the kitchen where many employees were enjoying breakfast, coffee, and/or Scho-Ka-Kola which was the only food that was available to Amerikans(though in a steep price compared to the tasteless Hershey bars.) Andrew mixed the last two together before walking back to his office.

Being ambushed by an operator he received two brown policemen uniforms belonging to the Staatlichepolizei, seeing he was given two he shot an eyebrow to the operator.

"Why two?" Sipping the rest of the coffee Andrew had the hooks of the clothes hanger attached to him as they walked towards his office.

"We just got a report saying that John Silvester was transferred here. Looks like it's your lucky day." As the operator took a separate route towards her station.

Facing the door to his office he grabbed the handle and pushed the wooden rectangle open. Turning to his desk he saw his new partner and fixed his throat to speak in English as well as finding the perfect normal American accent he knew.

"Looks like we're stuck together until one of us croaks." He said jokingly.

[Arengin Union]

Undisclosed Location.
ALA Safe house.
January 4th, 1963

Among the destruction that the Reich and its lapdog so called allies had brought, laid a nimble of happiness, every time a symbol of the Nazi power fell it was a matter of celebration for the soldier of the ALA. And though the celebrating of the successful attack on the cruiser had been made short due to the urgency to make another blow on the Reich, it was still a matter to be remembered. Commander Glenn O'Donnell and Subcommander John Murphy had made sure that the next set of attacks would occur at the other side of the Mississippi, right into the German territory. The ALA would avoid drawing much attention in the Midwest as what Vicente had said, the SS would eventually creep onto both parties at hand and that was not a chance the ALA could take. Especially within the Italian zone.

Both men overlooked a map of the entire nation, with several green pins of safe zone locations, red pins on targets for the ALA, and black pins on areas of deep Axis control. This included Boston, Washington DC, San Francisco, and Sacramento, just to name a few. Murphy had made sure to notify Donelly and Keaton on the next set of objectives for the East. Given the info that the contact for the ALA had delivered, there were several families with ties to the ALA that would soon be hit by the SS, they couldn't allow that to happen. Keaton made plans to get as many people as they could to a safe location, either within the continent or elsewhere. More shipments of arms would come from other benefactors, and over at France there would soon be a attack on an oil refinery, which Carson and his cell would assist the Maquis with.

In Mexico, Luisa was making sure that the next raw materials left Tampico's port, the ALA needed to produce more of the M45's and the Thunderbolts if they wanted to eventually hit Boston. Joe over at Arizona still was battling the IJA in the canyons, there had been little word from him but his couriers were still delivering news from time to time.

Donelly for his part was readying for something, something big. A project that would hopefully even the odds for the ALA in terms of mechanical warfare, Project Goliath, was the name. With few details to the other commander, Donelly was amassing the necessary resources for the project, it would be finished and it would help the ALA bring the fight back to the Nazis. It was a matter of time.

For now, though the ALA had score some victories, it was still a matter of hit and run. Hopefully that would change soon.

[Vulkata II]

Gestapo Headquarters, Richmond Virginia.
January 4th, German East Coast

Spooked at the sinking of a cruiser in German territory the field agents over at Richmond were tensed, they got the ALA's message. The agents that were know for crime investigation as well as the ones that were knowledgeable about weapons had the bodies of the sailors of the said ship in the headquarters lab.

Pathologists determined the time of their death and with the help of thanalogists, and entomologists before the bodies were dissected to find the bullet markings on them. Horrified at the amount of bullets applied in them everyone that saw dozens of crimson marks all over their blue flesh, with precision knives and cutting along with tweezers they were able to pull the bullets out and into kidney basins.

Bloody and cold the ones analyzing the bodies did their jobs, the ones that didn't handle the sight of boil like marks had excused themselves out of the room while the gun nuts went to work determinating the caliber of each bullet but had the pleasure of having shrapnel blown everywhere. There were a few intact bullets they could work with but they've noticed that most of it belonged to M1 garands. One weapon down, a dozen to go.

Piecing the rest with what they had by meticulously placing each shrapnel they found together, the bodies were destroyed because of so and asked that their loved ones will not have an open casket funeral. Finishing their jobs they have written down a report on their own, stuffed them in a portfolio and sent them back to the fatherland where High Command would be receiving it in 3 days alongside any reports of the other state Gestapo.

• Bullets seem to be in the caliber like that of the Mp45-50, STG-60, M1 Garand, Model 1895 Winchester , and other calibers we cannot distinguish.
  -Note:These doesn't seem like they're much of a threat, though Panzerschreks marks and other explosives? Who are we fighting? And who is supplying the ALA?
  
• The terrorist that did this are being supplied. An investigation has to be must be conducted and the state police must not be involved. There may be traitors in their ranks.
  
• Possible suspects are the Pastas though unlikely, supplying the enemy will only supply fuel to war and nothing else. Though the Calamarata should be alerted if they see any suspicious activities. Do not ask the Pastas* themselves directly.

Gestapo Headquarters, Boston
Andrew Petenham

Explaining to his partner the history and technicality of what their mission was another operator had given him a copy of the same file but in English, on the side of the folder it was attached on it had said BURN AFTER READING
, proper instructions for John.

Warrant number:415 32 as of 1963

Suspects:

• 5 Jewish sympathizers
• 6 Jewish subhumans.

Note:3 women, 4 children, 5 men.

All must be sent to Camp Unterhaus to repay their debt to society, if they try to escape, shoot them. A kubelwagen convoy will look after the Sd.Kfz. 7.

The Field Agent that will convince the suspects must know how to speak fluent English. 12 uniforms of the Amerikan auxiliary police will be given as a disguise while two more uniforms will be given to the agents that will lure the suspects out.

Their location is in front of a bar called "Beantown."

~Authorized by Oberregierungs Hoffman.
Translated by Operator Lundsfah.

Planning with John on their next operation the two seemed like the perfect duo as both were fluent in English but as Andrew did look like American and he could have an American accent, there were still the chances that one might see that he was German in case he had forgotten American history, cartoons, politics or anything that related to America.

As night came many had left the headquarters at exactly 2000 hours, the Staatlichepolizei were called to act as decoys as they rode in Kubelwagens as well. Streets were closed and cars of the same model raced with each other in case the field agents were ever to be followed, cameras stalked the sidewalks for suspicious individuals as operators watched them closely.

Andrew in his own car reached home safely, calling headquarters that he had and getting confirmation that he was now off the hook. The smell of dinner, mostly that of poultry had driven the father, husband, and agent mad with hunger, as he opened the door from the garage he saw Emma had arrived home already albeit still in her Staatlichepolizei uniform. As he kissed her and annoyed his children as they sat every one of the family placed either a part of the chicken, Escargot(though it was either husband or wife as the children were not fond of snails yet), salads and souffle for desert.

Asking everyone what happened to their day it was the children that had the most excitement though Emma was shocked to hear that Anakin was to learn how to clean his own pistol in a week at such a young age. After dinner everyone wore their nightwear and ran to their rooms, Andrew though had to check the cameras if they were working and called HQ back to see if he could see him.

The new night vision cameras eased the Gestapo agents as they lived though for the most part they were afraid that they would be dead before the people that infiltrated them were apprehended or if they ever were, Emma comforted the two children with a bed time story though she made sure that it would be straight forward and nothing that the Deutsches Jungvolk could ever paraphrase before her husband had locked the doors and laid on their beds.

The former of the two didn't close her eyes in an instant after telling good night to each other, if anything she was troubled.

"Andy, Anakin is going to learn how to clean a pistol. Clean a pistol!" Almost screaming at the last statement Andrew turned to her and opened his eyes as it seemed like it was going to be one of those nights.

"It's just going to be cleaning a gun, relax. Worry when he's going to actually use a gun and when they tell Emily that her hormones are ready to be used."

"But that's the point! I don't want our kids growing up like some sort of maniac. When the two of us were still kids we didn't grow up like that, we weren't taught like that. We were trained to be normal people and this is far from normal."

"You have a point." Thinking for a second the Gestapo agent pinched the bridge of his nose, "But we can't pull them out of Deutsches Jungvolk, someone would think it's fishy, but the best we do is to counter their indoctrination and try to make them like us."

"Andy. Yesterday Anakin said that you took him to an arrest, not only that but one that included shooting people against a wall. How do you think that translates to him?" Sighing at not knowing what to say the motion of the nodding just happened.

"I'll try to think about this. The last thing I want for my son is to become part of the Schutzstaffel." Looking around the bedroom he almost forgot that agents weren't excluded from being monitored, wondering if he said it too loud he countered his statement by speaking louder than his previous tone, "And by that I meant I want him to work behind the lines of the SS, something like a sturmpioner, at least then he wont get shot."

Looking at his wife in the eye she just shook her head at him knowing that only listening devices were around them.

"Tu es un idiot." She said as she laid on her bed, Andrew's hopes of having a good night's sleep was destroyed but as he hugged his wife closer he said something before he was knocked unconscious.

"Oui. Mais je suis ton idiot."

(*OOC: The Pastas are referring to the Italians. Though Calamarata is a pasta, it is in fact the Italian spy rings of the Gestapo over the Midwest.)