Post by trodai on Jul 2, 2017 4:51:38 GMT
Prologue
Arrival
They say that there is no such thing as rest for the wicked, but wisdom of that caliber fails to explain that a statement like that is also true for those who are unlucky enough. It was something that was in the back of Brigitte Gwerder's mind as her blue eyes were fixated upon the sight before her as the commercial ship she'd found herself on slowly began to ease itself into harbor.
San Andreas.
Some American Island on their west coast. It had huge mountains that the locals pillaged of gold and an assortment of other metals. During the Pacific Front this place was fortified to hell and back and turned into a military port. But now that the war was over, small parts of the harbor were open to civilian companies. It's that small allowance of civilian traffic that had the Czech fuchs on an American merchant naval vessel. The sailor's freight was live cargo and their keepsakes. A great many people, like Brigitte, heard the tales of the little paradise island that claimed it had easy work for twice the wages of what people could expect elsewhere and beautiful scenery for both those who like big cities, small towns or woodlands alike.
Brigitte didn't believe any of the advertisements, but if such a place was trying as hard as they were to attract new residents, then surely they were going to have a place for her to stay with some dumb little establishment for her to slave away at. Such was all the poor girl was after, the chance to scratch out a living...
It took a loud "Hey!" to bring Brigitte back to reality. She'd come back to the conscious world to find herself staring at San Andreas with her backpack namesakenly where it belonged and a stuffed duffel that was clenched in her right hand. The blonde vixen was leaned up against the guard railing of the merchant ship with the right side of her person having a considerably warmer feel than that of her left, given the sun was climbing up into the sky from the east and she was facing north. A look around supplied Brigitte with the fact that there were a lot of eyes staring at her expectingly to her right. Directly left of her lay the gangramp that the ship's crew had set up for the immigrating workforce into San Andreas could disembark into their new lives. A hiccup immediately jumped out of Brigitte as she closed her grip tighter upon the strap of her duffel bag out of surprise. With the rise of her right foot, she spun upon the heel of her left. The motion stopped when her right foot's boot sole hit the metal deck platting with a thunk, just as quickly drowned out by the union of footfalls as the crowd of disembarking civilians followed after her down the gangramp.
The dock that Brigitte and the other migrants stepped onto was thankfully not too busy with work, as that meant there was more room for a welcoming committee to meet the disembarking new residents. Once she'd set foot upon the dock itself, the Czech took a few steps to her left and watched as various passengers raced to familiar faces and embraced them in much the same way as the other families around them would by swapping greetings and questions about where they'd been for some varied amount of years. Yet there wasn't a soul among this crowd of already settled in locals who were there to greet the little vixen, which only meant that whilst she was indeed the first to haul herself and her duffel bag out of the dock yard, she did so alone.
Time at sea was calming for Brigitte, at least to a small degree. The rhythmic sounds of the Atlantic, then pacific oceans against the hull of the floating fortress she'd been a passenger on hadn't the volume of noise to compete with the scale that San Andreas had to offer the Czech vixen's ears with blaring sirens, horns and swearing. But with a long list of things needing to be done all that Brigitte had to say in comment was, "I wonder if Raynard would say the Eastern Front was quieter..."
Chapter one
Lonely steps
A familiar pair of blue eyes stared back at Gwerder from the reflection she was fixated upon from the mirror in front of her. Brain-dead exhaustion alone had been what plagued her mind, at least until the hum of a car engine and smell of gasoline caused her to become snapped out of her trance. The combination of sound and scent caused the German vixen to sit upright against the seat she was sat in. "You doing okay, Brigitte?" A familiar voice had asked to her left. The blonde turned her head and spied a pair of beady eyes giving her a careful gaze, one filled with forthright concern for her. "Ja, Patrick..." The frauline responded, a weak smile painted upon her muzzle as she fiddled with the seatbelt she had secured herself with. "I'm just happy is all."
"Happy?" Botasky echoed the ride-along in his front passenger seat, that same time pushing his foot against the accelerator of his patrol car. Headlights shined upon the dark asphalt road ahead of them, the unique sound of rubber wheels against the road flooded Brigitte's ears for but a moment before a creak of the breaks and halt of the vehicle hinted at a complete stop. "Ja." Brigitte repeated, her blue eyes focused on the traffic lights above her as it glared back with a crimson gaze. "I didn't know you would be here. It's nice to have a familiar face in this scary place." The Bostonian officer chuckled, perhaps amused by her choice of words, Brigitte thought. "Cities shouldn't scare you, Brigitte." The rabbit began, that same time the traffic light turned green. Just like that, the two were off again as the patrol started in earnest. "So are you going to tell me how you ended up here? San Andreas, of all the places in America?" Botasky asked. The blonde vixen in his front passenger leaned to their right and pressed herself agains the door of the patrol car, blue eyes aimlessly staring ahead at the road before them as the patrol car steadily scouted around the city. "It was Holliday, actually. He said his unique service to the Americans in the war helped get him a few strings he could pull at. Offered everyone in Seelenjager an opportunity at something new." To Gwerder's surprise, a somewhat bored sounding "Uhhuh." escaped Botasky. When she'd cast a confused glance to the rabbit driving the patrol car she was seated inside, the officer gave a half a moment's sideways glance at her. Like he had felt her gaze rest upon him before continuing. "I guess that after all the stuff Susan and I had to do with him after the bulge, it doesn't surprise me he would have cards like that up his sleeve. Why he did what he did though isn't out of character, either. Holliday is..." "Odd?" Gwerder asked by interrupted Botasky, who again responded to her question with a chuckle before answering with "Sure."
Before the pair could continue, a mumbling from the radio within Botasky's patrol car called to his attention. Left with nothing to do but wait and listen, Gwerder's mind ventured back to how she'd ended up in her present situation.
The sound of rubber soles repeatedly striking the sidewalk beneath her was something Gwerder had fixated on, the reverberating made the tall vulpine ears atop her head twich. Fixation upon this was what helped her survive the constant noise of the city that nearly drove her mad for the first few days of her arrival in San Andreas. She'd learned to drown it out, fixate on something else and just march through it. In Brigitte's case, she was literally marching. It was something that happened every single time to her and she didn't want to change this subconscious routine as it put her at ease while among the sea of faces and cars. First the constant drumming of her heels into the pavement, then her mind would venture back to days of training, singing a marching cadence with the people she held dear as comrades. Sometimes, when the city seemed to be a little bit louder than usual, she would sing them aloud with no regard for how those around her felt about a German marching along singing a military cadence just as the ashes had begun to settle in the wake of the second world war.
It was Westerwald Lied that had captivated her that morning, the sound of familiar voices rang on the inside of Brigitte's skull as she carried herself along the little sidewalk.
Occasionally her mind would remind her to take a turn at one particular intersection or some other, given she was trying to head home after a trio of interviews.
Gwerder's apartment was something that was a little off the beaten path, not that it was out of the city. Merely that she had to navigate one of the little narrow strips of alleyway to actually gain access to the building that served as her living space, as well as the living space of several other tenants. Some of said tenants liked to linger around the 'front' entrance when they got drunk together, not that Gwerder had anything to say about the matter given they had yet to bother her when such an event occurred. This is what Gwerder was expecting instead of the abrupt discomfort her tail felt when a group of four fingers and a thumb gripped tight around the fluff that followed in the fallchirmjager's wake. "Ugh... You have mistaken my tail for your bottle." She'd said after having spun upon the heels of her jump boots, the weren't the same jump boots she'd been given during her time in the service. In fact, they were American, purchased by her at a store that sold military surplus. The store owner warned her that any actual paratrooper who'd caught her wearing such attire would have a few choice words and knuckles to demonstrate their displeasure, but it was something Gwerder disregarded on the fault that she too was someone crazy enough to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. "I ain't that drunk, krautette." A raspy tone announced, the lumbering and thick-built rabbit grumbled as he heaved himself to a stand. The man was a tall one, seemingly built like a Sherman with how bulky he was. "I was thinkin' maybe you give your rent to me, I'll get it to the ol' landlord later t'day. Then we can all sit down 'ere an' have us some grand ol' times."
"I'll pass." The German said in response, having to look up at the huge rabbit towering over her. "It's not too hard to give rent payments to mister Townley." Drunk as the rabbit was, a smile was painted upon the man's face as he pivoted where he stood for balance. "Oh c'mon, girl. You know I ain't gonna do nothin' but deliver it for ya. I'm an honest gent." The response was something Gwerder wasn't paying full attention to, what had caught her attention more so, however, was the fact the rabbit's boozed up friends had all fallen silent. Alongside that fact, his right hand had given the left his bottle and fell in behind his back like he were reaching for something. "Nein." Gwerder tried again to dissuade the tall man, only to find a cold sensation press against the bottom of her chin. "Then we jus' gonna have t'fuckin' tell Assley that the Jerry cunt went an' ran off. Ain't no point your name bein' on the tennant list when ya ain't 'round to pay rent." At such a remark, along with the pistol being brought out, some of the more sensible members of the drunken group tried their part to dissuade the bulky man. It fell upon deaf ears, both the mugger and his victim too invested in their situation to notice the world around them.
Gwerder had tilted her head to the side and jerked her face to the side at the simultaneous moment her left knee launched forward and nestled itself rather suddenly in the tall rabbit's groin. The drunk's trigger finger curled, either in reflex or a deliberate attempt. Regardless of it being an accident or not, it had sailed past Gwerder's head and embedded itself into the roof. Already weakened and off balance from intoxication and the absolute torment one experience when their gonads were struck, the tall rabbit tumbled back down the concrete steps once Gwerder had hooked his right foot and pushed against him. The pistol in his possession went off once it hit the concrete pavement, the second round going off in some wild stray direction. By that point, anger had settled into the fox that the drunk had tried holding up. She'd launched herself off the little porch the two were on a moment ago, only to send her heels crashing against the man's head. Once she'd set her feet upon solid ground, Gwerder spun back about and pried the weapon from her assaulter's hands and glanced over at the rest of those around her. The vixen's eyes showed her a pair of intoxicated fools were had stood themselves up, one with a broken bottle in his grasp and the other a pocket knife. Training still dictating her actions, Gwerder turned the pistol toward the closer of the two and discharged a round into his upper chest. A forth bang from the pistol in question was the loud note of the other suffering a similar fate. The rest among the small group of intoxicated buddies were nowhere near as brave as the other three, each of whom shared more or less the same end result of deciding to try and muscle Gwerder of what little cash she held on her person.
After that, it was a difficult blur of automatic responses from her combat-conditioned. The rest her training recognized as prisoners and thus kept her weapon aimed to them. There was suddenly a loud "Police!" that snapped Gwerder out of her robotic trance. Confusion set in as the German cast a glance about her, dread filling her heart to find a pair of officers each on either side of her with weapons aimed at her. Slowly, the woman had set the weapon upon the ground and backed away from it, her hands out to reach for the sky. By the time the police had begun to restrain her, a silhouette dressed in a remarkably clean suit, or at least Gwerder thought it remarkable that the suit was clean considering the place the wearer was exiting, stepped into the sunlight. The man was a decent size, something around her height at least. A lynx was stood upon the porch Gwerder was on not a moment earlier, examining the scene before him with an inquisitive stare. "You all know this was self defense, officers? Saw it myself."
The sound of rubber soles repeatedly striking the sidewalk beneath her was something Gwerder had fixated on, the reverberating made the tall vulpine ears atop her head twich. Fixation upon this was what helped her survive the constant noise of the city that nearly drove her mad for the first few days of her arrival in San Andreas. She'd learned to drown it out, fixate on something else and just march through it. In Brigitte's case, she was literally marching. It was something that happened every single time to her and she didn't want to change this subconscious routine as it put her at ease while among the sea of faces and cars. First the constant drumming of her heels into the pavement, then her mind would venture back to days of training, singing a marching cadence with the people she held dear as comrades. Sometimes, when the city seemed to be a little bit louder than usual, she would sing them aloud with no regard for how those around her felt about a German marching along singing a military cadence just as the ashes had begun to settle in the wake of the second world war.
It was Westerwald Lied that had captivated her that morning, the sound of familiar voices rang on the inside of Brigitte's skull as she carried herself along the little sidewalk.
Occasionally her mind would remind her to take a turn at one particular intersection or some other, given she was trying to head home after a trio of interviews.
Gwerder's apartment was something that was a little off the beaten path, not that it was out of the city. Merely that she had to navigate one of the little narrow strips of alleyway to actually gain access to the building that served as her living space, as well as the living space of several other tenants. Some of said tenants liked to linger around the 'front' entrance when they got drunk together, not that Gwerder had anything to say about the matter given they had yet to bother her when such an event occurred. This is what Gwerder was expecting instead of the abrupt discomfort her tail felt when a group of four fingers and a thumb gripped tight around the fluff that followed in the fallchirmjager's wake. "Ugh... You have mistaken my tail for your bottle." She'd said after having spun upon the heels of her jump boots, the weren't the same jump boots she'd been given during her time in the service. In fact, they were American, purchased by her at a store that sold military surplus. The store owner warned her that any actual paratrooper who'd caught her wearing such attire would have a few choice words and knuckles to demonstrate their displeasure, but it was something Gwerder disregarded on the fault that she too was someone crazy enough to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. "I ain't that drunk, krautette." A raspy tone announced, the lumbering and thick-built rabbit grumbled as he heaved himself to a stand. The man was a tall one, seemingly built like a Sherman with how bulky he was. "I was thinkin' maybe you give your rent to me, I'll get it to the ol' landlord later t'day. Then we can all sit down 'ere an' have us some grand ol' times."
"I'll pass." The German said in response, having to look up at the huge rabbit towering over her. "It's not too hard to give rent payments to mister Townley." Drunk as the rabbit was, a smile was painted upon the man's face as he pivoted where he stood for balance. "Oh c'mon, girl. You know I ain't gonna do nothin' but deliver it for ya. I'm an honest gent." The response was something Gwerder wasn't paying full attention to, what had caught her attention more so, however, was the fact the rabbit's boozed up friends had all fallen silent. Alongside that fact, his right hand had given the left his bottle and fell in behind his back like he were reaching for something. "Nein." Gwerder tried again to dissuade the tall man, only to find a cold sensation press against the bottom of her chin. "Then we jus' gonna have t'fuckin' tell Assley that the Jerry cunt went an' ran off. Ain't no point your name bein' on the tennant list when ya ain't 'round to pay rent." At such a remark, along with the pistol being brought out, some of the more sensible members of the drunken group tried their part to dissuade the bulky man. It fell upon deaf ears, both the mugger and his victim too invested in their situation to notice the world around them.
Gwerder had tilted her head to the side and jerked her face to the side at the simultaneous moment her left knee launched forward and nestled itself rather suddenly in the tall rabbit's groin. The drunk's trigger finger curled, either in reflex or a deliberate attempt. Regardless of it being an accident or not, it had sailed past Gwerder's head and embedded itself into the roof. Already weakened and off balance from intoxication and the absolute torment one experience when their gonads were struck, the tall rabbit tumbled back down the concrete steps once Gwerder had hooked his right foot and pushed against him. The pistol in his possession went off once it hit the concrete pavement, the second round going off in some wild stray direction. By that point, anger had settled into the fox that the drunk had tried holding up. She'd launched herself off the little porch the two were on a moment ago, only to send her heels crashing against the man's head. Once she'd set her feet upon solid ground, Gwerder spun back about and pried the weapon from her assaulter's hands and glanced over at the rest of those around her. The vixen's eyes showed her a pair of intoxicated fools were had stood themselves up, one with a broken bottle in his grasp and the other a pocket knife. Training still dictating her actions, Gwerder turned the pistol toward the closer of the two and discharged a round into his upper chest. A forth bang from the pistol in question was the loud note of the other suffering a similar fate. The rest among the small group of intoxicated buddies were nowhere near as brave as the other three, each of whom shared more or less the same end result of deciding to try and muscle Gwerder of what little cash she held on her person.
After that, it was a difficult blur of automatic responses from her combat-conditioned. The rest her training recognized as prisoners and thus kept her weapon aimed to them. There was suddenly a loud "Police!" that snapped Gwerder out of her robotic trance. Confusion set in as the German cast a glance about her, dread filling her heart to find a pair of officers each on either side of her with weapons aimed at her. Slowly, the woman had set the weapon upon the ground and backed away from it, her hands out to reach for the sky. By the time the police had begun to restrain her, a silhouette dressed in a remarkably clean suit, or at least Gwerder thought it remarkable that the suit was clean considering the place the wearer was exiting, stepped into the sunlight. The man was a decent size, something around her height at least. A lynx was stood upon the porch Gwerder was on not a moment earlier, examining the scene before him with an inquisitive stare. "You all know this was self defense, officers? Saw it myself."