LibriumArcana.Games

January, 1941
Narva, Estonia

Dreary.

That was the first thing that came to mind when Sergeant Major Eugene Montgomery - Codename: Flash - walked onto the docks of Narva.

Narva was a middling sized city on the coast of the Gulf of Finland, and had suffered from fierce German and Russian fighting - not to mention the Estonian's own rebellion against the Nazi's. Earlier in the year, the Nazi's had managed to obtain Estonia and most of Eastern Europe into their empire.

Three weeks ago, allied forces had managed to dislodge the German warmachine from this area, and fortified a beachhead.

Flash could still see remnants of the Nazi banners on some of the buildings, massive black swathes of cloth, in the center emblazoned with the Swastika nestled in the center of the flared Cobra's Head. Flash couldn't but his finger on it, but something about Narva wasn't right. The town's colors seemed bled away, and despite the winter months, the ground seemed deader than it should. No natural life seemed to exsist here, of its own free will.

He put that to the Nazi's grinding the entire area under their iron heels.

"Hurry up and get them out of the holds," Flash called to the other Joes - elite fighting men from all of the US military branches, combined under a single banner "The best of the best". Each man was immanently skilled not only in general warfare, but their own brand of it. Be it demolitions, to sabotage, to guerilla tactics - they were the ones to go to - even if they were not supposed to exist, and their service records would be sealed for the next 500 years. The G.I. Joes was a clandestine organization in the American war-machine, everything about the men except for their codenames were hidden behind fifty levels of red tape, and known only to a handful of the most powerful men in the country.

Flash's team was sent here, while the US was still gearing up her war machine, while the President was still convincing the rest of the country that the threat of the Nazi's were no longer a European problem, the Joes had been sent in advance. To guide and assist their countries allies in beating back the Nazi and their alien warmachines, the Decepticons.

Another secret not known to the general public, but which the Joes all to well aware.


"Get them out of there, and off to the reserve. We won't be staying here for long. SATCOM gave word that a Snake Welcome party was headed out this way, we want to be clear to engage incase they brought heavy guns."

Flash watched as the first of the Autobots was being lifted out of the ships hold, in it's disguise as a tank. His team had spent the past three months training with the 'Bots, getting to know them well enough to think of them as just another soldier.

In a hour, they would be outside of Narva, and headed out, setting up their forward outposts, and with luck, kicking Nazi ass back to Germany.


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GM Note: By end of your intro post, you should be in the "forward base" where you can take robot modes. The base will have enough Autobot Tech to allow for basic comms back to command and a recharge station...and is restricted so the normal "grunts: can't get to it.

Pathfinder held perfectly still as the cargo net lifted him out of the hold. While his alt-form was based on a model meant to be parachuted behind enemy lines, he really didn't want to rock the nets and get dropped. The other 'Bots would never let him hear the end of it if he gets dinged that way.

Still, it was really tempting to do something to keep up the rumor he and 'his' Joes had started among the sailors on the cargo ship that this little M3 Stuart tank was haunted. The one sailor who'd crept down in the hold to smoke had come out swearing the main gun had moved by itself, following him. Pathfinder had enjoyed that one, had a hard time not sniggering, even as Flash had privately dressed him down.

Ehh.. what's the harm

As the cargo net swung the small tank out over the dock to lower it down, the main turrent made a sudden slow shift to port, complete with low creepy creaking as it stopped and settled at an angle...
... which didn't so casually happen to be pointed right at the crane operator's nest.

Hunter snorted and shook his head as Pathfinder "accidentally" moved his turret around. He was tempted to go take control of the crane himself and jostle the Autobot around a bit, but decided against it.

He slung his pack over his shoulder once again and watched the ship divulge the rest of the Autobot force that were with him.

The steam engine being lifted out and onto a set of tracks was probably one of the least expected sights on any beachhead. Still, the Autobot symbol on the front of it suggested why. Overload relaxed until his wheels gripped the rails, and the netting was cut away.

"Muuuuch better. Now, let's get loaded up and to the command post."

"Crosswind to base, on final approach," radio'ed a pilotless P-38 Lightning, as it approached the base. Crosswind had taken to routinely making flights as part of his daily routine as part of his "exercises" back at home, and had opted to instead make the flight himself instead of riding along with the others. He liked it better this way anyway, since though he seldom mentioned it, he hated being subject to other people's flying.

"Narva Base acknowledges, you are free to land on strip 3," came the reply.

"Crosswind to base, acknowledged. Keep the heater warm for me," he replied. Angling to the proper runway, the heavy fighter landed gracefully, and maneuvered off the runway toward the few other P-38's stationed there. However, it did wheel off to the side of the formation, rather than as a part of it.

The cranes that had lifted Pathfinder out of the hold turned about an rummaged once more therein, only to disgorge a second tank from the ship's cavernous depths. Larger in every dimension, painted a drab olive green, this tank was plainly no scout or reconnaissance unit, but a land battleship, its swept profile, with a forward-shifted turret that seemed to indicate impatience to be off and racing towards the enemy, as well as the distinctly American appearance of its treads, tracks, and suspension, revealed its identity. A T-34 Main Battle Tank. The deadliest armored vehicle constructed by humans to-date.

Let down as gently as possible onto the docks, preparatory to being loaded upon a tank transport, the tank sat quietly, its motor idling softly, though no-one could quite remember anyone turning the ignition or even fueling the thing. It sat completely motionless as dockworkers swarmed over it, freeing the cargo nets and preparing it for the coming engagement.

And deep inside, its radio crackled to life, deploying a small signal on a frequency unused by any human radio, and capable of maintaining integrity only over a very short distance. A comment to any Autobot nearby.

"Someone said this was good tanker's country..."

Pathfinder would have smiled if he could have as the dockworkers finished clearing him of ropes and nets. "You need plenty of room, that's for sure," he teased the larger tank on the same channel. "Just remember we're not the only ones able to hear this anymore ... right Hunter?"

Pathfinder actually liked Hunter. He just showed it by trying to tease the Joe mercilessly. The Autobot was sure Hunter was listening in.

Westminster Palace sprawled huge and dark along the Thames. Dark, instead of lit and magnificent, because the whole city was blacked out to fool the bombers. Some enemies saw with more than human eyes. Red eyes glowed in the darkness.

There was a violet flash and for a moment the heart of the city was illuminated as brightly as if under the noon sun. Rubble flew into the air, flying for miles. A cloud of fire climbed into the sky where the seat of Parliament had once been. A hot wind raced through the streets and every window within a kilometer shattered. The winds buffeted the destroyer, but did not move him.

Megatron descended toward the helpless city and leveled his cannon again. There was another intolerably bright flash and Big Ben was falling, the great tower blasted away near it's base. The earth shook with it's impact.

A dark shape, sleek and as deadly as a shark, darted through the sky. The towering cloud of fire silhouetted the menace as bombs flew from his underside. They bombs split open, dropping hundreds of small balls onto the city below. They detonated with enough force to ravage Cybertronian armour. Whole blocks vanished as massive circles of destruction sprouted like evil, time accelerated mushrooms. Fires burned around the periphery of Starscream's cluster bomb blast zones.

Another sleek and deadly shape flew down low and then accelerated. A boom like thunder shook the air. The brick apartments beneath Thundercracker disintegrated under the hammer of his sonic boom. The Decepticon transformed and leveled his guns at the defenceless city.

The cannons spat death in the form of incendiary shells. They blasted through walls and detonated with hellish fury on the interiors, turning homes into kilns. Two lines of fire a kilometer long were torn through the city in less than a minute.

The earth shook. A shadow loomed over Buckingham Palace, a metal giant even taller than Megatron. Devastator stepped forward and through the palace, pulverizing stone effortlessly. Without even trying the royal residence had been reduced to ruin. In the hellish light provided by the burning city, the gestalt straddled the dying city like the Colossus of Rhodes.

The greatest city on Earth was dead. The rest would follow. All of human civilization, all of human striving and achievement meant nothing. The monsters had won.

"Miss?" said a voice as a hand shook her gently. Blinking Stephanie Killian awakened. "Miss, are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you John," she said the big blond corporal sitting next to her in the cab. "Just drifted off." The images from her nightmare continued to dance in her brain. God.

"Well, we're almost there," he said pointing at the ship that loomed before them in the darkness. "It'll take a while to get everything loaded."

"I imagine it will," she replied. "Took long enough to everything here in the first place."

"Ma'am, I don't mean to be impertinent, but do you know what's going on. I mean you're a civilian, most of the guys are mechanics and the rest of us are drivers and a light security detail. We got a whole lotta cargo, but we ain't got any tankers or guys like that to use it."

"Can't tell you corporal, not until I have to. Just think of what we're doing as a supply run." A supply run with the best parts and armour their technology could produce, using materials that were rare, expensive, hard to work with, and not suitable for large scale mass production. Cybertronian spares and repair parts, inferior to what the Autobots and Decepticons could make for themselves given sufficient resources and facilities constructed using their advanced alien science, but the best Earth could offer its allies and far better than they could obtain by scavenging and refitting parts.

"Trust me when I say this John, there's been far too much secrecy and one-upmanship with this project already, but some of it actually serves a purpose."

"If you say so ma'am," he said pulling the truck to a stop. "You've always been straight with us, as much as you could. We appreciate that. Any chance you could share where this boat is going?"

Estonia. "Not until we're underway. Just in case the wrong people are listening or someone gets sloppy."

"Join the Army, get the mushroom treatment." He sighed. "Well, the sooner this is done the sooner is that it's over and the sooner it is that I'll know, right?"

"Yes," she said with a smile.

"You've got a pretty smile."

"You've said that before."

"Hrmph," scoffed Cavalier in a mock insult. If he'd had a face at present, he'd be smiling laconically. "Not all of us can hide in a barn under a black and white tarp and pretend to be a cow."

He looked around without actually looking around, his turret motionless as he scanned the area with his internal sensors.

"And here I thought England was dismal," he said. "Let's kick the Decepticons out of here double-time so we can go someplace that doesn't look like a frozen dinner pack."

Hunter sighed. "Aren't you two supposed to be some sort of uber-veterans of thousands of years of war or something? 'Cause you two chatter like fresh faced recruits. At least keep your traps shut 'till we get into the forward base, huh?"

With that Hunter smirked and walked into the forward base.

"As I recall, one of my little hide-and-seek trips back on Cybertron saved your tailpipe, Cavalier," Pathfinder called back. He too would be grinning, if he had a face at the moment. Then Hunter added his two chips.

"Get yourself inside and 'drive' me there, Hunter," Pathfinder retorted. "Trust me, after the first Vorn, being able to chatter is one way you know you're still functional." The Autobot resisted the urge to start his engine and slowly creep forward. 'Haunted' only got you so far.

Hunter turned around and smiled. "Sorry Pathfinder, I'm not not certified to drive a tank, you're just gonna have to sit out here and rust."

"Well if we weren't required to save the delicate sensibilities of your dainty little human friends by pretending to be inanimate slagging objects," said Cavalier with only partly feigned impatience, "then we wouldn't have to sit around here moaning in your ear, now would we?" The grin could almost be heard in his voice.

"And Pathfinder, I had those cons completely under control," he said in a manner that made it clear that he had not had the cons under anything resembling control, but didn't want to admit it.

Hunter sighed. "Alright if you're gonna be a baby about it." The Joe turned around and got up onto Cavalier, sliding into the belly of the beast. "Now mush."

"Of course you did, Cavalier," Pathfinder answered cheerfully. "I'm sure you had them right where they wanted you."

Yet when Hunter climbed into Cavalier, two of Pathfinder's machine guns drooped in shock. "But... but... what about me?!"

Cavalier permitted himself a triumphant laugh at the sheer despondency in the smaller tank's voice. "Hunter," he said, "hook a tow cable to my cupola, will ya? If you switch to neutral I can haul you out of eyesight without looking suspicious, and then you can drive the rest of the way. Once they lose sight of us, they won't know we haven't got crews."

"Have to do everything for you two. Next you'll be wanting oil baths while drinking only the finest of Arabian vintage." Hunter got out of Cavalier and walked over to Pathfinder, hooking the much smaller tank up to Cavalier before returning to the tank, slipping in.

"Now then, shall we go?"

"Well I'd be happy to do it myself," said the T-34, but your dainty little friends would all have processor locks and dive into the ocean to try and swim home to get away from the big scary tanks."

He revved his engine and started forward, slowly dragging the smaller tank out of the base.

"Oil bath doesn't sound like a bad idea. I always thought the Alaskan stuff tasted better than the Arabian though..."

Hunter laughed. "Wouldn't be so sure of that. My so-called Dainty friends wouldn't be swimming to get away from you. They'd be swimming to get away from the naval bombardment that would be coming your way." Hunter smiled and slapped the inside of the chasis.

"I know I wouldn't mind an Arabian somethin'. But I can't say in polite company."

"Hmph," said Cavalier, "I'm not afraid of ships. Knock one hole in 'em and the whole thing goes straight to the bottom. Cons might as well throw a zeppelin at us."

He laughed though at the human's comment. "Good thing you're not in polite company," he said.

"You should be. Those things carry some pretty heavy firepower, at least as big as anything you carry, and they can saturate an area with it."

Hunter smirked. "As for polite company. I just don't want to say anything you might repeat to somebody."

Pathfinder grumbled a little as Hunter hooked up the tow cable, dark mutters that could easily be ignored by Cavalier and the Joe as sour grapes.

When he stopped muttering, it should have been a warning Pathfinder had found a way to play tricks again. Almost as if by accident, one of his treads 'skipped a gear', causing the little tank to skew a bit to the right, before the tow cable got him 'straightened out'. Then the other side 'skipped', to the same result, before the right side skipped again.

Thus, it looked like the small tank was being driven drunkenly all over the road as it followed in the larger tank's wake. The scary part was the main gun stayed on track, the turrent always facing Cavalier's back armor.

The trio finally got out of eyesight and Hunter stepped up out of Cavalier again, heading back to unhook Pathfinder. "Smart assed 'bot. Lucky I don't drop a grenade down your hatch, see how you drive then huh?" He smirked as he unhooked the two bots from one another and then headed for the forward base again.

"I'd spit it out at you, and you know it," Pathfinder replied, moving under his own power now towards the forward base. "Besides, I'm just having a little bit of fun!"

"Hey, if he wants to make it look like someone forgot to hook his treads on right side up, that's his business," said Cavalier, waiting for Hunter to finish with the tow cable and climb back aboard. He then took off after Pathfinder, rumbling over the frozen tundra as he made his way south towards the Autobot base.

"Why you chose a hunk of junk like the M3 is totally beyond me," he said.