Post by Captain America on Sept 15, 2013 17:20:42 GMT -5
OOC: Title of this thread taken from the name of the song sung by the Andrews Sisters. Also, this thread will be written in first person. It takes place in the 1940s--for now anyway.
IC:
It was a day just like all the rest in Occupied Paris. The Resistance had handed off a tip that Johann Schmidt and his troop of Occultist maniacs were on the move to snatch something Hitler felt would win the war for the Nazis. Bucky and my squad were fighting in another battle, so this time out I was partnered with the Canadian operative who went by the name Logan and his buddy Eugene Judd.
If it hadn't been for the war, this little jaunt down the Rue Cassini might have been fun. Judd kept ribbing Logan about some singer at the club we were supposed to check out. A redhead. Apparently Logan had a thing for them. I'd gladly trade any woman in that club so I could have five minutes tonight with Peggy. God, I miss her.
"Gentlemen, I'm sure this singer will be very entertaining, even if she sings off key," I said as we got to the doorway of the nightclub and made our way inside. It looked like any of a hundred other clubs I had been involved in raiding in the past.
"Yeah, greenie, not this one," Puck replied as he looked at the door and seemed to cringe a bit. "Trust me. The Frenchies here have a really special something inside. So special our old pal Schmidt wants it. Now we need to figure out what it is and get it the hell out of there first."
"May not be a what, Judd. May be a who," Logan said as the trio sat down. He looked at the bottle that had been left on the table and snarled. "Can't even get a decent drink anymore."
IC:
It was a day just like all the rest in Occupied Paris. The Resistance had handed off a tip that Johann Schmidt and his troop of Occultist maniacs were on the move to snatch something Hitler felt would win the war for the Nazis. Bucky and my squad were fighting in another battle, so this time out I was partnered with the Canadian operative who went by the name Logan and his buddy Eugene Judd.
If it hadn't been for the war, this little jaunt down the Rue Cassini might have been fun. Judd kept ribbing Logan about some singer at the club we were supposed to check out. A redhead. Apparently Logan had a thing for them. I'd gladly trade any woman in that club so I could have five minutes tonight with Peggy. God, I miss her.
"Gentlemen, I'm sure this singer will be very entertaining, even if she sings off key," I said as we got to the doorway of the nightclub and made our way inside. It looked like any of a hundred other clubs I had been involved in raiding in the past.
"Yeah, greenie, not this one," Puck replied as he looked at the door and seemed to cringe a bit. "Trust me. The Frenchies here have a really special something inside. So special our old pal Schmidt wants it. Now we need to figure out what it is and get it the hell out of there first."
"May not be a what, Judd. May be a who," Logan said as the trio sat down. He looked at the bottle that had been left on the table and snarled. "Can't even get a decent drink anymore."
