Hangar deck

Enter from the return of evil --------->

The SS-Sturmscharführer entered the hanger deck, the combat boots on the sergeant-major echoing ever so faintly. Even among the usual infantry, the madman had a blood soaked reputation. Some even joked about him being equivalent to a demon back in the days of the fight for Stalingrad. That hadn't changed in the slightest, no matter how many years went by. Upon some of the soldiers glancing at him with the look of utter shock that he had come out of the coma the legendary paladin put him in while others had the look of absolute fear. A sinister smirk crept across Morphine's face, clenching his fists tightly before throwing his arms upward while his back arched backwards; the voice of the Sergeant-Major roaring through the hanger. "Ich bin wieder von Hölle, für die Hölle spucken mich wieder aus!" (I have returned from hell, for hell spat me back out.) The monster-like human spotted a familiar figure. Closing the distance quickly, Morphine gave a strong sieg heil to the musket-wielding lieutenant. "Frau Winkle! Ich haft returned from zhe deepest depths oft hell to serve millennium vonce more!"

Rip nodded in agreement at the cyborg's suggestion. "Ja, zhat vould be good" she replied, weaving her hair into a long braid and concealing her swastika pendant from view. "Ve can never haf too many und---" A loud voice suddenly boomed throughout the bay and cut though her words. The Huntress spun around upon hearing the sound of something behind her approaching with haste, only to be greeted by a familiar face.

"Morphine! How vonderful to see you again!" Rip greeted, saluting in return while Emmerich eyed him with suspicion. "I take it zhat you are eager to return to vork?" she asked, amused by the Sturmscharführer's enthusiasm "you are velcome to join us if you vish, zhe more zhe merrier~"

The cyborg glanced over his shoulder, narrowing his right eye for a moment as he studied the figure, eventually remembering bits and pieces of tidbits that were, alas, mere slices of a puzzle that was this man. One corner of his mouth slipped into a frown, as the albino disliked loud noises, when those noises happened to not be the glorious, beautiful sounds of his own cannons thundering off, reducing enemy fortifications to rubble. His eyes flicked around to the now fearful soldiers of Millennium who appeared to cower away from this one, other than Emmerich. Opinions about that one ran along the lines of one who was suspicious at everything, trusting no one. A good trait to have in some situations.

A hand reached behind him, to one of the bins on his armor, slipping a finger in and withdrawing a cube of butterscotch, flicking it up into his mouth with his thumb. "Ampf... Ms. Van Winkle, shall we begin planning the carrying out of our mission?" A finger brushed his silvery bangs out of his eyes, up under the rim of his helmet enough to where they fell just to the side of his left eye. If they actually did begin to plan, which would be the smart thing, for smart people, who wish to conduct war unto eternity instead of die a meaningless, poorly-thought out death at the hands of some cheap vampire slayer or mercenary, as opposed to riding to glory upon the ashes of the world, and then remaining to watch it rebuild, and burn it down again.

The voice of the Lieutenant was equivalent to the most beautiful of operas to the Sturmscharführer's ears; the voice of a valkyrie that had the Sergeant-Major's heart. It was one of the few things that made him feel like a person rather than just a... thing. His devotion to millennium and the huntress was beyond questioning. A faint, genuine smile came across Morphine's face. "But oft course, Frau Winkle. Ich am alvays ready to work by your side." Gloved hands tightened around the MP-43 assault rifle in his hands. He was eager to prove that despite the critical condition he awoke from moments ago that he could still be of use.

Rip nodded at the cyborg's words once more "Zhat vould be vise, Rome ist enemy territory und going zhere vithout a plan vould be a death sentence." The Huntress was acutely aware of the dangers of facing an enemy on their home ground. Naturally she would opt for more familiar territory or at least somewhere neutral. She despised the thought of handing over an advantage so freely to anyone.

"Hmmmnn...you suggested ve question one of zhere own, did you not Ausf?" she asked "If ve go ahead vith zhat zhen ve vill most definitely have to silence the poor bible thumper, it ist zhe best vay of keeping a secret, after all...ve cannot allow zhem to run off crying to Iscariot und I vould like to avoid such hindrance" She paced slowly as she thought. "Are either of you skilled in zhe art of interrogation?" she asked Ausf and Morphine.

The cyborg thought for a moment. "Yes, we could kill them, however, that would alert the Vatican to something's presence there. My suggestion is that we pass ourselves off as a government organization from another country. Possibly Russian, as they aren't the kind to reveal what they are and are not doing, in my opinion." He glanced downward at his weapon hanging from his hip, then back up at the other two. "Although, I do think that having a decently large weapon pointed in your face would be sufficient. In my experience, anyway."

Did somebody say interrogation? A sense of chaotic joy began to fill the Sturmscharführer, the faintest, eerie beginning to creep across his face. "Interrogation vas one oft mein specialties back in zhe great var." The madman pulled a small roll out of his uniform, letting it unroll itself to reveal several surgical tools and blades. "Mein uncle vas un butcher und said zhat zhe flesh held no secrets... Ich found zhat out to be true meinself vhen Ich preformed mein profession." A soft snicker left Morphine, rolling his interrogation equipment back up before placing them in his uniform again. "Ich vould rather avoid zhe Iscariot's territory after zhat last encounter vith zhe holy executioner... so vhat ist zhe mission anyvays? Collecting veapons und ammo? Ich could message some of mein contacts to look into some places vith low risk und good payouts. Maybe zhere ist un museum with blueprints for some oft zhe Reich's veaponry... could steal zhose und some good bit oft steel... zhe engineers vould be making a stockpile oft panzers zhen."

So here he was, to do a mission he was summoned to do as all good Millennium forces do around another person of equal rank he disregarded as having compensatory issues upon which he didn't really bother paying attention to, Rip Van Winkle, the one who actually used a musket with bullets that tended to actually contort and distort in direction to hit the target, though effective in ripping to people to shred with surprise, it was also a nice way to snipe without ever having to miss unless someone actually had decided to wear something thick for shielding, which'd no doubt leave dents, and there was whomever wished to join this venture to which Carsten decided not to fondle their attention since that's not what he was here for.

From behind all of them appeared the Sergeant Major, Carsten, holding the FG-42 in hand and in camouflaged equipment with his distinct cap, and a combat webbing of sorts to hold his ammunition. Surveying all of them and the area behind him as he took inventory check to understand what available resources are there. A distance spanning 10 feet between him, the fellow with the same rank, and the cyborg whom he regarded with a smile, and finally Rip Van Winkle, had been followed by an unaccented tongue of fluency, in his German that carried accent found from Switzerland. "If the lot of you are going to Rome itself, and are in need of an interrogation expert, as ordered by my superior officer, I'll accompany you all. I have prior experience, let's say, intimate one, as a former member of the Iscariot order, gentlemen, and lady, with the inner working of the Vatican and whatever modus operandi they perform within purview of knowledge, and if need be, interrogation as well. Everyone breaks eventually," He looks to Morphine, smiling still without a shred of malice to his fair and angelic face, "Everyone." And then he snapped a brief and curt salute, before slacking from his Nazi posture.

"Zhe Major vishes us to do some reconnaissance vork on zhe Iscariot organization, although he vas a little brief on zhe details" she answered "I do not know if Iscariot pose any threat to use at zhe moment but ve haf been lying dormant for too long und ve need to gain un understanding of our enemy's activities. Ve must scrounge vhatever information ve can und- " Rip paused mid-sentence once more as Sturmscharführer Carsten approached. "I am glad you vish to join us" she greeted, saluting in return. "Lieutenant" Emmerich murmured from somewhere behind her "we really should make haste..."
"Ja, indeed" the Huntress agreed. "Ve are vasting time, ve can finalize zhe details on zhe vay. Let's go" she said and climbed into the aircraft, signalling the pilot.


(If anyone else wants to post you may, or I can make this an exit post for all of us and start a new topic. Let me know)

-EDIT-

Rip, Emmerich, Ausf, Morphine and Carsten --------> To the Outskirts of Rome

(OOC: Sure, I am down with all of us exiting at once. Saves us all the trouble.)

[[OOC: Same]]

[OOC: Fine with me.]