[Lazarus]

These are the authorized posters for this thread. PM Lazarus if you are interested in joining.

Lazarus - As Alexander Sherman, Douglas Sherman, and applicable NPCs.

The Conclaive - As Hisoka Yamazaki 'Ronin', Xipe Totec, and applicable NPCs.

Bolts - As PV2 Diegson and applicable NPCs.

Mikashi - As Nadia Ivanova and applicable NPCs.

Benderboyboy - As Mina Linova and applicable NPCs.

Description:
This is the story of Alexander Sherman, following his arrival in Manila, the Phillipines Febuary 3rd, 1945.
It is also a means for other players to flesh out long standing background stories and work out the past interactions of characters who are tied to the characters listed above. In time, if it is so desired, it may become a more encompassing and open thread, showing the interconnected nature of other characters in the Heroes RPG.

Note: All slang used is period, and is in no means an attempt to offend anyone. To capture the feel of people and times it is used. If you have an issue with this, please PM Lazarus, or the poster, and the posts will be amended to avoid any issues. Thank you for your maturity and understanding.

[Lazarus]

After having been attacked by Ronin and his father at MIT, Alex finds himself in a completely different place.

It was barely sunrise when Alex woke, the gentle licking of the ocean waves at his face. He could feel the sand in his clothes, between his fingers.
The sun was crawling upwards on the horizon, giving the sky a fiery orange glow. And surprisingly, the air smelled of smoke and ash. The sulfurous scent of burning primer and spend gunpowder was the first hint that something was terribly wrong.

The second clue was the sound of explosions, not too distant, just over the ridge inland. Shortly thereafter, the sound of automatic weapons fire echoed to him.
As he became more aware of his surrounding, he noticed planes in the distance, over the ocean.

It was a war.

Rolling his head around, Alex tried to get a better view of his surroundings, and that's when he saw them.

He didn't have any idea how long they had been there, watching him, but it was obvious they had no idea what was going on either.

Alex shifted his weight, and sat up slowly, trying to look harmless.
Needless to say every one of them brought their weapons up, sights trained on his chest.
Feeling the need to be clever, Alex held his hands up, "I come in peace."

After a few seconds of hesitation, there was a collective laugh, and the men all lowered their guns.

One looked behind the crowd and shouted back, "He's American, Sir!"

"Then why's he got a Jappo sword, Sarg?" came a harsh reply, from beyond Alex's line of sight.

The first man, who had been identified as Sarg, pointed to one of the other soldiers, "Diegson, check him out."

Alex started to recognize what was up; they were all in old Army gear, WWII get-ups if he was right. Which was really odd. In fact, now that the haze was clearing up, they were all equipped perfectly to the era, guns, gear, everything.

Alex held as still as he could, as the man Diegson, who wore the stripe of a private second class, patted him down. There was a pause as his fingers moved to the left side of his jacket, where a single slit was cut, with blood-soaked edges.
The two exchanged a look. Alex shrugged a bit, "You got me pal."

Diegson continued to open the jacket, and shirt, revealing no wound at all, flipping the shirt closed; he reached into his left jacket pocket, finding something inside.

"Hey Sarg, I got some kind of book here," PV2 Diegson held the book in the air, before passing it up.

Not wanting to risk any trouble, Alex didn't protest, but was definitely clueless, "Um, so what is this, a movie or something?"

There was as a pause as the group came to a realization.


"You really have no idea what's going on, do you, pal?" The voice in charge said, as he sauntered into view.

"What the hell is..." Alex trailed off, as his jaw dropped.

Standing right in front of him was the spitting image of his grandfather.

Holding the notebook in his left hand, Captain Douglas Sherman was on the same page," You're damn right, what the hell is going on?"

The two exchanged looks for a few tense seconds until someone broke the silence.
"SIR!" the radioman called out, "Command has given the signal, and we need to move up!"

"F*&k!" CPT Sherman spat, "You have some explaining to do later." He pointed at Alex. "Troopers! Let's move out!"

Diegson helped Alex to his feet, as the Sarg confiscated his sword.

"Are you at least going to tell me your name? Or am I going to have to give you one?" the Captain asked, "Since you're stuck with us till this mess is over."

Alex fumbled with his coat, dusting himself off slightly, "Cornelius." It was a fast answer, and it came out before he even knew he said it.
The Captain must have seen that there was some truth in his answer, since he just snorted and started moving up the beach.


It was a short walk before all hell broke loose. Alex had forgotten how fast one's surroundings could change without warning. They were moving up the beach, circling a small formation of scattered rocks when they started taking fire from the bank above. Apparently part of the enemy forces on the island were waiting in camouflage, hoping to ambush the advancing American soldiers.

Seven men were down as soon as the shooting started. The air was heavy with the smell of blood, its coppery taste hung for all to try. The bullets whizzed by, pinging as they hit the rocks Alex, his escort, and another man were using for cover. He frowned, they had been separated, the command element was pinned up ahead, behind a larger pile of volcanic rock, and he was stuck with mostly lower enlisted, who were getting picked off one at a time.
"Give me a rifle!" He shouted at Diegson, who shook his head, "No way in Hell pal!" Firing back at the few attackers he could spot.
Alex hated having to cower, but he couldn't afford to get hit, it would just make things worse for him. "Give me a damn rifle!" He insisted.

The familiar rattle of automatic weapons fire tore through the clatter of infantry rifles as the Japanese soldiers set up a machine gun to keep them pinned. The bursts of fire causes small showers of shattered rocks and debris to rain down on the three men crammed behind their rocky cover.
Alex felt the warm spray of blood on his face as the man he was sharing that small patch of earth with took a pair of rounds to the head, blowing his jaw right off and spattering bits of his skull along the ground. There was a moment of tunnel vision, the sounds of combat seemed to die down, and he could feel his heart throbbing, in waves of pounding pressure in his head. He looked around, realizing that the dead man left his rifle near Alex's feet. Diegson was too embroiled in the firefight to even notice as his charge picked up the M1 Garand.
Alex turned around, shifting his weight in a kneeling stance and began to get a bead on the machine gunner. He took himself back, to basic training, to the four fundamentals of marksmanship. They had been drilled in over and over again, year after year, and they were easy to remember. He steadied himself, and breathed out Steady Position , he rested the rifle on the rock. Sight Picture , he leveled the rifle, placing the gunner's face right above the front sight post. Breathing , he inhaled, held his breath, then exhaled, waiting for his lungs to empty. Trigger Squeeze , he brought his finger back, releasing the mechanism that loosed the firing pin. The heavy .308 roared as fire spouted out the barrel in a short flash.
150 yards away, the machine gunner's head burst. His helmet flying clear of his body as he slumped down on his gun. His assistant gunner tried to seize the weapon, but was halted by another round that caught him in the neck.
Alex looked over the rocks, spotting the rest of the scattered men, “Move to the 9 o'clock!" He shouted, "Bound to their left flank!"
Diegson gave him a look that sat somewhere between respect and a stupor.
"NOW! MOVE!"

[Mikashi]

Pal’s eyes looked on Nadezhda with pity when she came to him in his room that night. She didn’t understand why. He simply said, “Goodbye, Nadezhda.” She had always pleased him she had thought, so she did not understand why he would be turning her away, but then the men burst in to the room, the men in their uniforms, the SS. She’d been betrayed by her Prince. She fought, like a lioness, managing to break one man’s arm, another’s leg, driven the nose of another man into his skull, but there were too many and she was beaten unconscious. Clasped in chains, she was dragged off from Eszterháza Palace, like an animal; an animal is precisely how they viewed her and everyone else like her. It was March 17, 1943.

She was taken north. She recognized the city, she had spent some time there some years back. When she had been there they called it Oświęcim, but the Germans had given it a new name in 1939, Auschwitz.

She first saw der weisse Engel, the White Angel, when she arrived at the camp. He inspected her and the others as they arrived, directing most to his left and only a few to his right. She was sent to the right, appearing strong enough to work and thus worth keeping alive, the vast majority, however, were directed to his left and she would never see any of them ever again. She would, however, see the man in the white lab coat again and others like him.

She had been beaten again, severely, when she refused to let her arm be tattooed. In the end, she was given no choice, she became 11742. It was dehumanizing. It was the point. How could they have done what they did to so many if they had actually thought of her as a human? If they had thought of any of them as human they could never have done what they did. No, they were numbers. Inferior. Undesirable. Morally. Spiritually. Artistically. Physically. They were a plague of rats as the propaganda would have everyone believe. Thus, everything and anything was permissible.

The Beast was responsible for the woman’s camp that she was kept in at Auschwitz II, Lagerfuhrerin Maria Mandel, the commandant. Nadezhda daily wished that she could but get her hands on Maria, just for a few moments, but she was never afforded that opportunity. Her name would be etched in Nadezhda’s mind though forever. Her jailor.

Only flashes remained of what she endured while in the camp. Her health and her gender had earned her special attention that she never would have wished for, the attention of Dr. Carl Clauberg. She was moved to Block 10 and it was Dr. Clauberg who would inherit every bit of rage and fury she had. She was tortured there for the sake of German science. She was exposed to high doses of X-rays, injected with unknown drugs and chemicals, all attempts by the doctor to find a cheap way to sterilize women. This of course had to then be tested to see if it had worked. Unfortunately for her, she healed better than most even in her state, and thus she was exposed to this regimen multiple times during her stay in the camp. Luckily for her, she only remembered fragments.

She could have killed some of her fellow prisoners, women of Block 10. Some of them may have even desired or welcomed it if she had asked, but she couldn’t. She would not. Her pent up fury finally got its release in October; on the 7th in 1944 there was a prisoner uprising. Hundreds were involved and she was one of them. With stones, axes and hammers, they assaulted their guards. They destroyed one of the crematoriums and they fled, hundreds of them.

She grabbed two guards, they did not seem particularly worried, she was just a petite young woman, but when she began to draw their life out of them, they became afraid. They struggled, but she was already too strong for them. They could not break her grip and as she drew the last breath out of them, they crumbled into dust, leaving behind only their uniforms; the uniforms that filled her with such hate. She ran then. They were all running. She escaped, though she was certain that many or even most had been recaptured. The others, they simply lacked the strength. She fled for the heart of Russia, too frightened that she would be recaptured. She did not want to brave staying anywhere in Europe.

It took her months. Months of hiding in forests, in ditches, in ruins. The German line extended well into parts of the country that were once upon a time her home. It filled her with horror, the scope of everything and that horror fueld her flight through enemy lines. Those two guards at the camp were not the only ones to perish during her long escape. They were many. And in fact, at some point, she found that she was not fleeing any longer, she was hunting, redirecting all of that pent up rage and frustration on the army of the Fuhrer. She kept moving though, never staying too long, her fear outweighing her need for revenge.

She, at last, reached safety, well past the front lines. It was 1945, and although she had left the German lines behind, the nightmares would not let her go so easily. Every night she was forced to relive portions of her capture and what had transpired in the 17 months she was held.

[Bolts]

PV2 Diegson listened to the strange man shout the order to move to the enemies left flank. MOVE TO SEATTLE! MOVE TO SEATTLE! He shouted at the other men in the squad. They shifted quickly covering each other as they moved. As he took his position behind a small dune he took a quick pop shot at an enemy and watched as the bullet passed through the center of his face. DROP THE BASTARDS! He shouted as he continued to fire. He looked over at the strange man and wondered what had compelled him to give such an order. A bullet pinged off his helmet and he ducked quickly. He looked up again seeing an enemy reloading. He took aim and shot him in the neck. then again in his face before he hit the ground. He killed a few more enemies before the rush was over and he let his heart rate slow again. He began to think about his gal back home. All a little too soon. An enemy came over his dune and attempted to stab him in the neck with a bayonette. He reacted just in time to veer it off causing a slight rip in his ear. He was fighting on his back and knew that was a big problem, he forced the enemies weapon away and took a shot at the man's gut. The man toppled over onto him and he scrambled from underneath the dying body. He caught his breath and waited for the all clear from the other side.

[Lazarus]

The maneuver played out better than he hoped as Diegson and the other soldiers routed the ambushers. The leadership, a ways down had managed to finish off their own attackers roughly at the same time.
CLEAR! He called, from his postion, waiting for confirmation from the other soldiers.

After a few moments and single gun shots, the all clear was given and helmets began to pop up like flowers sprouting from the ground.

Looking around, Alex waved to the joes, and began to walk back to the Captain. Rifle carried at the low ready, as non-threatening as he could manage.


As the troopers gathered, it was a tense moment, as no one seemed to know what to say, or do given the recent run of events.
Looking to Sarg, CPT Sherman ordered, Give him his damn sword back. I don't want one of you goons fallign on it when the fighting get bad.
Alex sighed in relief as the moment passed, and the troopers laughed at the captain's remark.
Sarg, who wore the stripes of a staff sergeant, handed the unsheathed blade back to Alex, a slight look of distrust there.

The group continued along the beach until they came to the first major street. The objective was a university campus that was being used to hold prisoners.
Apparently a jeep with two US Forces Far East (USFFE) soldiers in it had crashed through the gate, with both men being gunned down by the camp's defenses. As they made it to the skirmish line, a single Sherman tank rolled past, ploughing through the wall that sealed the campus, starting a new wave of shouts and gunfire.

Following the soldiers closer, Alex readied his rifle, waiting for the order to attack.
He had been lucky enough to find a blanket to keep the sword in, tied to his back, since carrying it in his hand would have been too much trouble.
The men roared as the order to storm the compound came, the amassed troopers began, movign under the cover of heavy machinegun fire, the crawled to the remains of the wall, then spilled into the void where the tank had passed.
Moving behind the armor of the Sherman with a small team, including the captain, Alex worked his way to the far wall. The screams of dying soldiers, both Allied and Axis filled the air as the men moved to takeout an enemy enplacement.
The blasts of grenades could be felt from his postion, as both sides began using explosives to try and route out the other.
Captain Sherman provided cover fire as a pair of soldiers rushed the emplacement, pickign off the bunkered in soldiers before they could raise their rifles back.

Sprinting with his grandfather, Alex leapt over the sandbags surrounding the gunners' nest and went prone. The bloody dirt below his face was grinding into his skin.
Crawling to the edge of the sandbag circle, he peeked over the top to see that a small group of Japanese soldiers had moved into a nearby, waving with his hand to the captain, he pointed to the doorway they passed, whispering Single squad, six men.
Giving a roguish grin, Douglas pilled the pin from one of his grenades and lobbed it into the door way.
The explosion that followed blew the wall out of the building, the bodies of the enemy soldiers tumbling out with the debris.
Captain Sherman winked giving a smile, That's the easy way.
Grabbing Alex by the arm, he pulled the man up and the two headed into the building, the two other soldiers, Diegson and Clark, following behind.

[benderboyboy]

OOC: Hey Laz. I'm here!

It wasn't her day, it just wasn't. Mina Linova had just gotten a boat onto the mainland and along with thousands of others refugees had been captured. They were brought to some school made prison and thrown into classrooms that were already cramped with people. The room stunk worst than a skunk. Because there wasn't a toilet, everyone had to crap in the same corner of the room. Kids were not given any special treatment and those who died from sickness and hunger were piled against the wall. This is the ugliness of war.

There were gun shots heard outside, people screaming and soldiers shouting command. Then an explosion. The rest in room screamed and backed into a corner. Against her will, she was squished to the side, her face squished between the pile of people and the metal grill of the windows. She squinted at the light from outside and saw soldiers storming the complex.

[Lazarus]

The building was made with stucco walls, and wood, which suddered with every explosion. The battle outside was pitched, the retort of automatic weapons and shouts of men and women easily permiated the frail walls of the school.
Alex peered though the dust, as it had come off the walls in sheets, leaving billowing clouds of concealment in its wake.
The Captain lead on, unconcerned with visibility, frighteningly calm in the chaos that surrounded them. His Thompson carried at the hip, since the space was so compact that he would be hard pressed to miss with a spray from it.
Behind both of them, the two privates followed, Diegson covering the rear to keep them from getting overtaken from behind.

The sound of boots could be heard on the wooden floor ahead as a group of soldiers ran to assume some new position within the bowels of the aged university building.
Alex forced himeslf to breath slowly, and quietly, hoping to remain silent as they apporached.
Douglas waved a hand, clenching it inot a fist, as he stopped before passing around the corner. Sliding his feet cautiously, he peeked breifly around, holding out his right hand behind, with 4 fingers in the air.
Four soldiers, in the open... Alex felt the sweat of his hands against the smooth wood of the M1 Garand's stock. The taste of earth and salt, with blood and sulfur hung in the air heavily, as his eyes burned with dust and sweat. He could feel his muscles tense, under his dirt and sweat stained clothes, the prikly barbs of heat rash begining to stab at his skin where the oils and acids had collected from the early day's perspiration.
Licking his lips, he waited, finger rubbing on the warm metal of the trigger, enticing him to pull.
The Captain brought his Thompson up, using the corner for cover. Taking his time, he fired a short burst. The loud 'BAP BAP BAP' of the .45 slugs leaving the barrel were followed immediately by shouting and screams, which he again answered with another burst.
Douglas ducked back, back to the wall, moving towards Alex, again switching hands, holding his machinegun along the wall, waiting for a Jappo to come out.
Alex stelled out, moving more into the open hall, bringing his rifle up, the sound of his racing heartbeat was thundering in his skull like drums in the night. He could feel every beat, as the blood coarsed through his vessels, the throbbing along his arms to his hands, and down his legs to the floor.
Taking a knee, he kept the heavy rifle steady, his finger screaming for him to pull.
A man came around the corner, his rifle the first bit to show. He was moving slow, the fear stank off him, like a bloated corpse in the sun, calling all manner of carrion birds to feast.
As he stepped out, Alex fired, catching him low, in the stomach, causing him to double over forward in agony. Following the man down, he fired again, hitting his chest before he toppled completely to the floor.
Reflexively, the man jerked, his rifle barking loudly, the stray shout jetting upwards, catching Alex square in the chest, knocking on his back.
F$%^! Douglas shouted as he rounded the corner firing again, finishing off the last soldier. Turning back, he moved to Alex, opening his shirt, checking under the new bloody hole in his coat.
What the Hell? his eyes went wide as the hole first spat the slug back out, then closed behind it, almost like magic.
Alex looked up to his grandfather, their eyes meeting for a brief moment as his mind returned to full consciousness, Oh Sh!t...!

[Lazarus]

Originally Posted by Lazarus

Alex looked up to his grandfather, their eyes meeting for a brief moment as his mind returned to full consciousness, Oh Sh!t...!

We don't have time for this, CPT Sherman said, getting back to his feet, shrugging off Alex's miraculous healing.
We need to clear this building so the prisoners can be freed. Douglas brought his Thompson up, placing the butt of the stock into the nook his shoulder made.

Climbing to his feet, Alex checked his ammo, Three shots left... He didn't have the issued combat load that the other men carried, as he was still in a business suit.
Removing his coat, he fropped the tattered jacket to the floor, as his pockets had been emptied by Diegson when he was searched, he didn't need it in this heat anyways.
Rolling up his sleeves, he replaced the blanket that held his sword, except he adjusted it so the hilt now protruded from the end, allowing him to draw it if it got that bad.

Picking up one of the Japanese men's rifles, he fished out their ammo and donned their load bearing set up, allowing him to carry extra ammunition.

The team began to move again, coming to a small curtyard which held a single anti-aircraft gun. The gun crew had been firing at Allied planes the whole time, keeping the close support bombing from being effective.
Readying a grenade along with Diegson and Douglas, Alex pulled the pin, letting the spoon flip off, giving a short count of two before lobbing it at the emplacement.
Almost immediately the grenades went off, exploding at nearly waist height from the ground.
The Japanese soldiers evaporated in a pink mist as the force of the explosion detonated their ammunition, which made short work of the entire crew.
The nearby wall, made of mud bricks and straw collapsed revealing another set of halls, leading deeper into the University...

[benderboyboy]

Just when she thought nothing could get worst, a trio of Japanese soldiers burst into the room, screaming and yelling in Japanese. When no one could understand, they shot a few rounds into the room. Everyone instantly shushed as a few of the prisoners slumped down feigning dead. Others however, were really dead. The soldier in the middle of the three shouted some order and the other two went and began dragging prisoners to the door. Somehow, from all the way in the back of the room, Mina was taken as well.

They were lined up in the corridor and pushed to the ground, making a mountain of living bodies. Mina was on the bottom front. She watch as a group of allie soldiers headed their way. Oh my God! We're human shields!

[Lazarus]

Alex was the second-to-last man in, another squad had swung in the gap and charged the new opening.

The shouting and fire was pure chaos, the dust from the collapsed wall obscuring visibility.
After the first few shots, he could distinctly hear women screaming.
Barreling in, he was sprayed with blood as a nearby trooper caught a slug to the face, blasting the back of his head out.

Peering through the churning clouds of brown, he could see bodies stacked almost waist high, with men resting their rifles on them.
After a few seconds, he noticed that the bodies were moving.
They're alive! They've put prisoners in the way! Douglas shouted from the front left somewhere, the debris from the explosion had left ample cover for the troopers who were trying to seize the building, giving them a breather as they tried to figure out a plan for the new enplacement.
So much for the easy way, Alex added dryly.
Getting a frown with a glare from the Captain, he poked his head up, trying to get a brief count, but the hail of bullets forced him to duck.
Is there some way we can go around, shoot them through the wall? Alex shouted, barely audible over the clap of rifle fire and whizzing of bullets over their heads.