Chloe smirked a bit at the french woman's snappyness. Always on edge, she supposed. Well, that's probably what living in Nazi-occupied France did to a person. Chloe would do her part to fix that bit about the Nazis. Then again, the other guy with the mucked up face was a bit nicer, wasn't he?

"Well 'ello Lilliane, pleasure to meetcha." Chloe said chirpily, putting a hand on the leather jacket tied around her hip as they walked.

"No one'll be puttin' me 'gainst the wall." Chloe rebuffed, proudly jutting a thumb toward her own heart. Some element of Lilliane's comment went right over the young woman's head. "Not with the powers wot I got. Once we're clear from any crazed germanic gunmen I'll tell the lot of you about her. Wanna make sure no one overhears us, yeah?" Chloe said, narrowing her eyes and dropping her voice to that of a stage whisper- in that her voice was the same level as always but with a harsh raspyness to it.

BOOM!

Chloe flinched, whirling her dark ponytail around as she whipperd her head from side to side, then looked towards the vague direction of the source of the sound. "Awright, bloody hell. What was that?" Chloe asked, raising an eyebrow.

After a moment of hesitation Chloe crouch ran over to a nearby wagon and hunkered down, eyes wide, the smile sticking to her face like a bad habit.

The large man didn't take issue with the agent, Lilliane's, reply. He met her gaze cooly and like before, thought her harsh attitude was a bit refreshing considering the situation they were all in. He'd been hoping that the woman would relieve him of the burden, but then again he supposed he was a big guy and his fellows were small women. Emphasis on small, though Chloe was on the taller side she was still a fair bit thinner than he was. Without another word Taras followed the girls' lead, humming in amusement when the British agent mentioned her "power."

Ideally, an agent wouldn't let on that they were gifted at all, but he couldn't say he was surprised to hear her flaunt it. The power she held must be something to do with earlier in the plane, the music. Again he found himself curious to know more about it and how it could possibly be helpful as more than a distraction, but even if they were free of prying ears and Taras was the type to ask, he didn't get the chance.

The tell-tale whistle of a mortar made it's way over to the group, with the shell itself sure to follow soon. Not bothering with a warning, the Russian didn't hesitate at all, breaking away from the group to find shelter immediately. He ended up on the other side of a shallow ditch, hoping what shrubbery was around would help conceal him. From his spot he couldn't clearly make out the area though, he'd have to find a better vantage point to retaliate. The man turned and peeked out underneath the sparse foliage, seeing where the other agents had gone while wondering how many hostiles were around... and who, exactly, had let the information that they'd be there leak?

<Incompetence>, he muttered as the shell exploded, throwing dirt up in the space they'd just been.

First impressions were always important. So far, her first impression of Chloe wasn't good. She was really living up to the name her parents gave her, unfortunately. The Russian was professional at least. Plus he could carry the pallet.

A whistle broke the silence of night. While unfamiliar to Lilliane, she was instantly reminded of the tales brought home after the great war. Without much of a second guess, she warned the others with her harsh tone. "Mortar," she simply said. Not that they really had to listen. As long as the Russian man holding the pallet—more importantly the pallet—was fine, then there would be no issue. The health of the others was second. Acceptable casualties, more or less.

Lilliane quickly dove towards a grassy knoll. She'd be fine, unless the mortar directly struck her. It didn't and instead landed behind them.

"That one's new," she uttered to herself. Really, it was unlike the Germans to use such a thing. Usually, they would just attack and beat the resistance's great war surplus and hunting equipment with their modern MP40s, 98ks, and vehicles. For them to use a mortar on the middle of a farm, that either meant things went wrong or things went really wrong.

"Don't scatter too far," she yelled just loud enough for all of the agents to hear. If the Nazis really were using mortars, they were probably using them as a form of crowd control. If they scattered far, then they could easily be picked off by whatever horde of gunmen came after them. Divide and conquer, or something like that.

Kiara was mostly quiet, letting the others talk as she enjoyed the outdoor air. It reminded her of the nights she spent lurking in the shadows, watching deals go down and waiting for something to go wrong so she could raise a little hell. It was a strange sort of peace, the same kind of liminal space as the moments before a tornado touches down.

The only comment she made was in response to the idea of meeting some gunmen, “Wouldn’t be ideal, but it sure would be a good time.”

She disregarded the kind of picture her remark painted about the stability of her mental state. After weeks of nothing, she was antsy to get into some action, and her comrades in arms would just have to deal with that.

Almost as if on cue, there was a resounding boom in the distance. She snapped into action without wasting a moment, pulling her gun from its holster and diving for cover. She knew full well her little pistol wouldn’t do any good against a mortar, but it was her first reflex.

With sharp eyes, she scanned the area for other attackers, considering the possibility that the shells were a distraction.

Her gun felt in her hands like a key in a lock, and everything fit into place. Her face broke out into a grin, and her eyes flashed with a macabre glee.

She murmured to herself, “Hello, tornado.”

Reinhilde watched and waited as the mortar shell came down, inevitably, perfectly at the intended aimed space. The group were quick witted enough to avoid getting bombed into oblivion, which meant this wasn’t going to be an effortless endeavor on her part. Of course, it wouldn’t be as fun if they just all up and died at the first shot either, would it?

She immediately got to work picking out her next target and adjusting the aim of her second mortar cannon. None of them scattered together in a group, so instead she had to prioritize the best way to cripple them and it wasn’t a hard choice to make. One of them was carrying a rather large crate, something he brought with him when he took cover in a ditch. Clearly it was important, likely supplies of some kind. Well they couldn’t retake this encampment from her if they didn’t have the supplies to do it, no they couldn’t! Those Nazi scum would perish, or lose their motivation and leave!

BOOM! Shooooooooooooooo- went the second mortar, exploding into the air and arcing perfectly at her next target. The man would be at a huge disadvantage, being both in a ditch and trying to protect that crate.

Believe it or not, Taras assumed that the next attack from their unseen enemy would be directed at him. This was just the way things went, there was no luck of any kind involved, good or bad. Not only was he the only man in the group, but he had with them the pallet from the plane making him the optimal target. Furthermore, these things just happened to him.

What he hadn't expected was another mortar so soon. A group of enemies then? He'd thought that his cover would give him a good chance to ambush any gunmen that came looking for him. Either way once the tell-tale whistle pierced the air Taras allowed himself just a moment to close his eyes and think, pizdets, before he climbed his way out of the pit he'd thrown himself into. At the top of the ditch, the man moved forward and tossed the pallet as gingerly as he could into another batch of shrubs just as the shell exploded. The pallet was important, but Taras' life was much more valuable, or so he'd argue. Still, though he and the supplies were separated and the pallet out of harm's way for now, the force of the shell's explosion threw Taras a few dozen feet. Dirt and shrapnel covered the Russian and cut his skin. His ears rung and he was bleeding where pieces of the shell were embedded into his flesh, but his eyes were still clear and sharp. The shell landed frighteningly close to where he'd just been crouching in the ditch - and how exactly could the enemy be that accurate with a mortar of all things?

All kinds of theories ran through Taras' mind. Many more enemies than expected to make the extra eyes, some kind of new advanced scope or sighting implement, perhaps a contraption overhead... or, maybe the worst case scenario, someone with an「ability」stalking them. After all, he and the other agents had them - and their main mission was the investigation of such people on the German side.

"Zh," Taras called out, vaguely aware of the position of the other agents. They wouldn't have gone far after Lilliane's warning. "Enemy has some way of seeing us clearly." That they were seen was obvious, but the accuracy of the mortar was uncanny - and the Russian conveyed that through his tone. Somehow through the darkness and trees, they were easily found.

The Russian agent didn't try very hard to take cover after that, slowly moving behind a crooked tree. Now was the time for his fellow agents to show their stuff, to see if he could really count on them. Taras let himself bleed, hoping to make for a tempting target for whatever assassin was after them. If he was anything, he was completely confident in his ability to patch himself up afterward. So long as he didn't take a direct hit and wind up instantly killed, he could act as a decoy so the others could pinpoint the enemy's location.

Chloe grimaced and covered her ears as another bomb went off, almost blowing the Russian to smithereens. Chloe smiled apolgetically over at the Speedwagon Agent.

"Bloody hell! You alright there, Tupolev? That was close! We gotta get this bastard!" Chloe called out, hiding behind a rock. She levelled a beige colored arm towards a small cluster of buildings. "I saw it! They're shootin' at us from over there!" She glanced around.

"Well, I'm assumin' we're not about to let these Nazi bellends blow our whole operation, right? We gotta get 'em! And I've got a good way to close the gap!" There was no way Chloe was going to sit back and let her new friends get decimated. Wrapped around her shoulder was a leather holster, and riding on her back there was a classic british submachinegun- the Sten Gun. Simple, tube-like design with a magazine receptable on the left side of the gun. Unholstering the gun she held it between her hands, slammed the magazine inside and racked the slide. Determined but nervous eyes complemented her uneasy, toothy grin.

Fellow Stand Users would began to see yellow energy flick up the young woman's bare arms and legs until a glowing aura surrounded her form.

"Puttin' on the Ritz!" She called out to reassure herself of her convinctions.

Over Chloe's shoulder apparated a ghostly, porcelain, lanky, towering seven foot tall humanoid. It was all bright white skin with wood and brass apparel. A pair of luscious doll-like lips and a strong, pointed nose could be seen from underneath the polished wooden sallet helmet, striking green eyes shadowed within. It's oak crop top was connected to segmented mahagony trousers via four suspenders. Attatched to it's back- no, embedded in it's back was a record player, and from this record player two gramaphone horn tubes rose like snakes wher they embedded itself in the Stands shoulders and burst out the other side like brass exit wounds.

Chloe and the Stand turned to glanced at each other at the same time, their ponytails drifting in the wind.

"Disc 3, Side B. We need cover." Chloe nodded towards her truest self.

The Stand responded, moving it's too-long arms quickly to the apparatus embedded in it's skin and oak top. With expert precision, taking no more than a second, it swapped the disc in the record player with another one stored in a slot at the top of the player. As it moved, there was the soft, warm crackle of vinyl static, as if the entire thing was merely an illusion conjured forth by the sound of a vinyl disc.

"Okay, ladies, gentleman," She gestured to her compatriots. "Follow me lead, we'll be shovin' boots up Jerry's bum in no time." Chloe kept up a face of good humor, but her Stand's mouth was a line that quirked into itself on one side, as if someone was contemplating a difficult math problem. It's eyes were hidden underneath the helmet but one could assume it's painted on eyebrows were furrowed in concentration.

With that, the record player began to spin, and the effects of a smoke grenade burst into life from the Stand. Chloe was now completely submerged in a thick grey fog that no sharpshooter could penetrate. Chloe moved into the middle of the group, standing out in the open. Anyone looking to fire upon the group wouldn't be able to see anything through the massive cloud. Chloe moved with a quickened crouch run, her Stand about ten feet to the left of her to maximise deployment range of the smoke so her allies could follow her.

"If anyone shoots at me...shoot them!" Chloe called out, a laugh entering her voice towards the end.

With Chloe taking the vanguard, Lilliane was caught aback by what appeared behind her. Her rousing speech did little for the french spy, but at least she was making herself useful now. The sudden appearance of the porcelain figure flooded the spy's mind with quick thoughts. English wonder weapon? A hero flying in like one of those American graphic frame. No, it was more familiar than that. Panic quickly fell to acknowledgement as Lilianne was forced to rely on these strangers.

Tch. No time to think about that. She could question whatever was going on later.

The pallets were more important. For the large man—Tupolev as Chloe called him—to leave the supplies was understandable; if the person firing the mortars knew where they were, then they would likely target him over the pallets. The chance of them targeting the pallet was still likely. If they knew about this deal, their objective might have been the supplies.

Scuttling out from her barely safe hovel, she made a mad dash towards the pallet. She could protect it. She was certain. If a mortar was coming, she could stop it. That's what she told herself, anyways. She quickly crouched above the pallet, looking up to the sky. She was ready.

Reinhilde watched as they scattered once more at the whistling of her mortar. The second she’ll made contact with the ground, leaving her one mortar still loaded, and still zero casualties. Disappointing, yes, but she couldn’t fire off the third just yet. She had plans for that one...

Her primary target hid behind a tree after abandoning the crate of (she assumed) supplies. Still too far away, she couldn’t make out if he was bleeding out or not, but he wasn’t moving around and that was enough for her, at least for the moment. Better to focus on the active threats.

And there was indeed an active threat. One of the others was running toward her position in the fort. Reinhilde would’ve considered such a tactic suicide, after all it’s exactly what she planned for, but then something happened that made the Austrian woman falter and hesitate for a moment. A figure appeared near the person charging in, another silhouette that sprung from nothingness. There was only one explanation for this.

“<A stand user...>” she mumbled to herself in German. That carried the possibility that the others could be stand users too and if that was the case, she might’ve bitten off more than she could chew. The Nazis had sent stand users after her before and she killed each one, but that was one at a time. No, there was no thinking that way. The first to lose resolve in a battle was the dead one. She lifted her gun and, using Shoot to Thrill, gauged a shot now that this person (woman she could tell now) was closer.

The woman’s stand blew out some manner of smokescreen. Ha. It was useless. Shoot to Thrill was already in x-ray mode and automatically compensated, adjusting for the new barrier. In but a moment the cloud may as well have been invisible, and Reinhilde calculated there was in fact a shot she could take. 3 degrees left, 4.2 degrees up. Wait for the wind to give pause and... BANG!

The shot rang out, racing through the trees until it struck one from the side in a glancing blow. This bounced the bullet in a ricochet, readjusting it’s trajectory mid flight. In effect, Reinhilde had essentially shot around the solid obstacles blocking sight between her and her quarry, and the bullet was heading for the woman’s shoulder where it would strike a major artery...

Chloe heard a gunshot, but it wasn't what she was expecting. A single gunshot? Where they really only up against one person? Unfortunately for the young brit, she couldn't see where the bullet was coming from through the smoke, and even if she did it was at such a bizarre angle there was no way she could block it with Ritz.

That was why her sprint was ended prematurely as a bullet entered her right shoulder and exploded out the other end, a violent spray of crimson splashing across the grass. "UOAH!" Chloe cried out in pain as she span from the impact, tripping over her boots. She hit the ground hard and her sten gun scattered in the grass. Ritz looked back at her user, the surprise plain on her helmeted face, and dashed over to protect her.

Chloe was face up, limbs sprawled, her left hand on her shoulder. The blood was painting her white crop top red, but a vast majority of the blood was pooling into a muddy puddle beneath her via the cavernous exit wound of the high caliber bullet.

"Ooohh...oooohh...shit...damn it..." Chloe groaned and then gasped for breathe. She had never been shot before. She had only been on the field for two bloody minutes. It really fucking hurt, and now she had to go home if she got out of this alive. How humiliating. Chloe giggled pitifully at her misfortune through her gritted teeth as frustrated, pained tears began to fall down her face.

Ritz loomed over her fallen form and eventually hoisted her by the armpits, causing the brit to cry out again. But she had to get to better cover. There was a tree nearby and Chloe was dragged towards it. There was a startling amount of blood that trailed behind her from the pool that was being formed underneath her. Propped up against a tree she leaned forward and let Ritz apply pressure to the exit wound, though the blood flow continued. The agent was breathing heavily, sweat drenching her pain-twisted face, and somehow the smile never left her lips, because if anyone could see the humor in the situation it was the person who just got shot. Just her fucking luck!

Puttin' on the Ritz was still emitting a smoke screen but it was clear to everyone that it didn't do anything.

Smart, Taras thought to himself, observing as the enemy wisely changed targets from himself to his ally, how annoying.

It was good fortune that Lilliane had made it over to the pallet unharmed. Likely, Chloe's mad dash helped in that, drawing the fire of the lone gunman. Yes, lone - just as Chloe seemed to have concluded, so too did Taras. A single enemy, with a frightening accuracy. Not just frightening, but uncanny. They couldn't assume that any of them were unseen at the moment. Which left Taras with some choices, all ones he wouldn't be particularly thrilled about making.

First, he needed to heal himself. His injuries weren't life threatening, and their mysterious assailant had already seen through his ploy. With a thought and barely a glance toward Lilliane nearby, he summoned his own Stand. Ideally the agents would never know about his own power, but Taras was a professional... if they needed to see it in order for the mission to succeed, so be it. At this point he, somewhat bitterly, didn't see himself able to complete it on his own, so there was no other way.「Bad Case」appeared on the Russian's arm. It was small and metallic, with thin legs that resembled an insect's. There was also a wicked looking needle attached to it, which the little stand promptly jammed into it's user, going through his thick coat and the skin beneath. Taras quietly hissed in pain, then the sound turned into a breathless chuckle. Ah, the sting of being bitten by his own Stand... it'd been a while.

To anyone watching, it might have seemed like Taras' skin was rippling beneath his clothes. To those not watching, the Russian agent was simply... healed. His wounds closed, the bleeding stopped. The bug-like machine that was his Stand dislodged itself from him and hopped to the ground.

And now the choices.

Heal Chloe and risk being shot himself, or let her suffer and possible die while he and the other ladies made a move on the enemy?

"<How I'd love to watch you squirm a bit longer,>" Taras said aloud though more to himself, "<I've been told that's not good teamwork though. Pity.>

Yonaka, brace yourself and do not struggle."

With a quick motion to Lilliane and Oscuro, Stand and user split up. Taras himself left the cover of his tree, though he expected it's protection was minimal at best anyway. Carefully, he made his way closer to the enemy, one hand in his coat clutching his gun. With Yonaka down for the moment and Lilliane protecting the supplies, he counted on Oscuro to move up with him, in a different direction. If that was the case, he'd hope the gunman shot at her or tried to finish Yonaka off and then he could engage.

Speaking of Yonaka,「Bad Case」scuttled it's way toward her. The small contraption looking thing concealed itself behind the young woman's body, and with no warning besides the one Taras had already given, it injected it's needle into her skin. The initial injection was near painless, maybe a little itchy... but soon enough a heat spreading out from the injection site, and the painful twist and pull of her flesh physically moving to repair the hole through her shoulder made itself known.

Chloe's advance through the newly formed smoke was certainly a plan. Whether it was a good one or not was the question, but the answer wasn't immediately apparent. Judging by the gunshot and the scream, probably not the best. Lilliane couldn't easily tell because of the smoke and distance, but Chloe was probably shot. Her scream gave slight respite, as it meant she didn't die instantly.

As she turned back to face Taras, she quickly noticed him standing up no worse for wear. The dark of the night obscured his stand from her eyes. Not that she would have known what it is. Technology was accelerating at an incredible rate these days. Seeing something like that wouldn't have surprised her. What did surprise her in the callousness of his native words. Her Russian was a touch rusty, but she was certain that he just implied that he enjoyed pain. What was he, some kind of deviant? What peculiar agents England would send.

Well, she still needed to protect the supplies. Charging into gunfire wasn't her job. She would remain, not charging forward.

"I'll think of something," she yelled to the others before biting her thumb.

Plans formulated in her head. She had limited information. How many of them were there? Judging by the gunshots, one? No, that couldn't be right. Nazis weren't a solo act. Mortar team and a sniper? Why such a weird group? Why wouldn't they just send in the standard group to deal with a couple of partisans. If they were so dangerous, why not an entire group? Was this person shooting them even a nazi? What if it was a group of partisans that thought they were shooting at nazis? What an absolute moff up that would have been.

If they were a group of nazis, screaming French at them would result in getting shot in the face. If they were partisans, the shooter would stop. Excluding the idea that they're crazed gunmen. Crazed gunmen probably wouldn't stop. Was it worth the risk?

Kiara hung back for a second and took stock of the situation. The enemy seemed to have unnatural accuracy, as if they had eyes directly on the group. She considered testing this theory using an unladylike gesture, but thought better of it.

While she searched for any visible enemies, Chloe took the initiative and charged, displaying that she had an ability of her own, represented by a fancy doll-like figure. She produced a cloud of smoke, but it didn’t provide much of an obstacle to what appeared to be a sniper.

Clearly the time for observance had passed. She pressed forward with an uncannily serene expression, a pink aura flaring around her. Her face broke out into a confident smile. It felt like so long since「Miss Murder」last came out to play.

She was a cloaked figure that seemed to be cut out of the shadows themselves, with a pair of wide eyes that glowed pure white. She approached in lockstep with Kiara, two long pigtails trailing behind her.

God, there was nothing quite like the feeling of anticipation before a good fight. It was like a drug, and Kiara was addicted.

She idly wondered if she’d be able to send home some souvenirs.

Amstein smirked as she saw the stand user go down. Clearly the woman was expecting her smoke screen to be an effective shield, but that was a mistake… A fatal one, considering the artery that had been blasted open. The amount of blood spilling from such a wound was one that would lead to the stand user’s death in a matter of a minute or two. Still, that she had enough will left to have her stand carry her to safety was something Amstein had to commend. It was a respectable will to live, but in the end would do no good.

With two out of the fight, she changed her focus yet again to… Wait just a god damn second. The big one was moving again? “Scheisse!” she cursed. The big guy was bleeding behind a tree only a second ago and now he was on the move again like he wasn’t even hurt. How was that possible? Invisible to Amstein was the tiny bug-like stand, small enough that she’d need use of a different lens in order to spot at such a distance, yet the physical objects would get in the way. Destiny had conspired to make this one completely invisible to the sharpshooter, leaving her baffled at her previous target’s recovery.

Taking stock of the others, Amstein spotted one holding still, one that hadn’t been injured yet. So this was either a coward, or took the “wait and observe” approach. Could be trouble as this one figured out the situation more and more. Amstein wondered if it was prudent to take out the planner first, so that there was no plan to put into place later?

The answer was made apparent as another of the group continued to move forward, out in the open. Foolish decision, but then maybe she figured that taking cover was pointless, given the circumstances? Either way, she volunteered for the next bullet. Amstein took aim, took in a deep breath, and then… Wait, another figure appeared behind the target, a silhouette with long pigtails. Another stand? There were two stand users in the group! And that meant that more than likely they were all stand users. “Scheiße!” she cursed again. Those Nazi bastards were finally taking off the kid gloves. About time, actually. Hunting men, even in platoons, had gotten terribly boring. A squad of stand users though?

The target was entering the treeline, which meant she was exactly where Amstein wanted them. Hidden in the brush Kiara tugged a tripwire! Betrayed by her own feet, the wire triggered a bouquet of grenades hanging from the branch, yanking all the pins at once and dropping the cluster of small bombs right next to her! “Gute nacht!” Amstein said, firing her next bullet. The course had been plotted, the aim was true: the bullet would travel until to glanced off a tree then redirected toward the target’s right side torso, opposite of the side the grenades fell. A two-pronged attack: throwing herself away from the grenades would only lead to jumping into the bullet. Throwing herself away from the bullet would only lead to landing on a patch of explosives.

This was Amstein’s territory now, and it was heavily defended, as they would soon find out.

Chloe had felt herself dying, her vision beginning to tunnel and blur. Her heart rate had spiked but her pulse was weak. Clammy cold skin. the leather jacket wrapped around her waist had been soaked with blood as it ran down the front and back of her shoulder. Finally, the smile had faded from her face and been replaced with a look of numb confusion.

Ritz looked down at her fading hands before completely vanishing, the Stand aura around Chloe sputtered to life. The british woman sagged against the tree, her hand falling limply away from the wound. It didn't take long at all for the bright red arterial blood to leave her and her life to truly begin ending. Thin white, almost invisible strands of smoke began to emanate off of her. Fuck, she thought. How embarassing. Bugger. I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry, Dad. I just want to make you proud.

Someone called her Yonaka and she glanced lazily over to see Tupolev and his Stand. It was a scuttly little robot. Kind of cute, kind of scary looking. Yonaka glanced down and saw the Stand approach, Tupolev giving her a warning.

It stuck a needle in her. It had crawled behind her, wedging itself between the tree and her bare back, where it stuck a needle in her torso. "Whuh...?" She barely felt it, but she certainly felt what came next. Yonaka's skin began to stretch and maneuver itself. The entire area around her shoulder shortened as the flesh knitted itself back together to stop the bleeding on both ends, prioritizing the exit wound first. It was very briefly a horrific pain, and she certainly would have struggled against it for she had no idea why Tupolev was tortung her so. But instead her eyes rolled up into her head, fluttering shut in the process, and she slumped to the side with a huff, falling unconscious against the tree. The thin white lines stopped emanating and her chest rose and fell slowly with breath. She was alive, stable, but inert.

Her approach was cut short, unfortunately. Of course, a fucking tripwire. Her eyes locked onto the bundle of grenades to her left, and she leapt to the right to put space between her and the blast. What she realized too late was that her maneuver put her directly in the path of a bullet (“Too late,” in this case, means “immediately after she was hit”).

With a loud curse, she lost her footing and fell, but she still had the sense to angle herself away from the grenades which were still very much a concern. She managed to shield herself behind a tree when they exploded, and she ignored the ringing in her ears to take stock of her condition. Based on how much it hurt, it was likely a high caliber bullet, but it hit with much less power than expected; the sniper had likely pulled the same ricochet trick they had used to hit Chloe. Not a great situation, but nothing she didn't know how to handle.

Miss Murder offered her a shadowy hand that she used to pick herself up. It hurt like a bitch, but she grit her teeth and pushed through it. If this bastard thought they could take her down so easily, they were sorely mistaken.

With it's work done,「Bad Case」dislodged itself form the unconscious woman and seemingly faded out of existence, unseen, returning to Taras. With that large blood stain on her clothes, Yonaka appeared dead - which might be a good thing, for her, so long as the gunman didn't decide to double check their work and spend another bullet on her prone form. The Russian agent didn't spend time thinking about that, because he was stilling picking his way through the forest in the direction of their enemy. The sound of an explosion not too far away confirmed what he'd thought about the area: booby-trapped. Of course the forest was trapped, no solo operator would be stupid enough to think they'd be safe without some measure of insurance. At least, no solo operator still alive would be that stupid.

Soon enough a fort came into view through the trees. Compared to some of the older castles in France, the building ahead was a bit meager. Recently build, though whether during the last great war or this one, Taras couldn't tell. Construction and architecture weren't particular interests of his.

He summoned his Stand again, letting it cling to his back in case he needed it as he crouched behind the trunk of another solid tree. The gunman... he couldn't see them from here. Unfortunate, Taras sighed in his mind, taking just a moment to consider his next steps. Oscuro was on the offensive like he'd hoped, continuing on ahead. Would she continue to draw the enemy's fire though? And most importantly, could he risk sending「Bad Case」to scout? ...if the bastard sees it and attacks it directly, it won't be good... too dangerous in the open, but if I can get inside...

Easier said than done, of course. The tree line didn't extend far enough to give him any hope of cover if he were to approach the fort's entrance. A mad dash wasn't Taras' style either though. His best bet was to wait until he knew the gunman was distracted, which meant one of their agents suffering another attack - but it was either that with some chance of surviving, or winding up the next person with a punctured artery and severely less chance of surviving.

Bullseye! The woman stand user jumped right into the path of her bullet! The willpower on this woman was incredible though, as she powered through the pain and kept moving away from the grenade bouquet. Amstein had to give credit where it was due, that took some serious mental fortitude. Meanwhile the other woman she had shot wasn’t moving, either completely out of gas, or dead. The schemer had yet to make a move, staying behind. That registered on Amstein’s mental radar as something potentially damning, but it wasn’t the time to deal with that right now. The large man was approaching again, any trace of his previous injuries now gone.

Two of them were advancing. She’d have to switch focus between them in order to keep them off balance and hope that, with a little luck, her traps could deal some damage if not outright kill them. She quickly fired off another two shots at the woman, not aiming to hit her, but to herd her in the right direction. Yes yes, that’s right, right into the minefield! While that was going on, the burly man wandered into one of her most devious traps.

Taras’s path was obscured by bramble, brush, and leaves. So it was the perfect location to keep hidden a sling-net. As soon as the Russian’s foot put pressure on it, the net pulled back, suspending him high in the air over a tree branch, Only this net wasn’t made of rope or wire. It was a single solid piece of… Leather? No, not leather. It was covered in blood! And the shape, the shape was all wrong! An eyeless face drooped down to smile at Tara, like a deflated man. This net was… It was human skin! A whole person, skinned into a single piece!

“Bang,” Amstein said, taking aim. Her ensnared target was now visible without her x-ray lens, so she swapped vision modes to telescopic and zoomed in close. She aimed for the center of mass in her skin-net and pulled the trigger.

Somewhere, a violin sings a sweet, sad song.

Chloe's eyes flash open and she snaps back to the world of the living. They scan the environment wildly, and her brain screeches back into gear as she remembers who she is and what she is doing. Her arm clutches at her shoulder, but the wound is gone. All healed up, like it wasn't even there. Her shoulder is a bit less muscular than she remembered but it's a small price to pay for not dying. That must have been what that little Stand Taras had could do. Heal people? She wasn't dead!

She wasn't dead, and she could still fight. Her face was pale and her energy was sapped, but her mental fortitude was as strong as ever. She extended a hand upward and Ritz, that behemoth wooden, brass, and porcelain doll that had been there all her life, materialized and hoisted her to feet. The smile returned to Chloe's lips. She knew what she had to do.

Chloe turned and looked to the fort, hidden behind trees. Somewhere, a sniper was watching. She was mostly likely already in that nazi bastard's side.

"Go on, Ritz. Gimme Winston." Chloe asked of her stand quietly, voice ragged, smile weak but genuine. Quickly, Ritz used it's long arms to unhook the smoke bomb disk from the gramophone and slot another inside. Before her, materialising from static, a Churchill tank hummed to life. Ritz walked behind it, having to crouch down in order to be comfortably concealed behind the tanks body. It thrummed to life and began to tread forward, making steady progress toward her destination. Ritz began to hum a little melody, it's voice warm, analogue, distant.

Tupolev had just been caught by a net. The enemy had laid out devious traps, it seemed. No worries, Chloe thought, leaning on the tank for support. She just had to line this up right. Fortunately, Puttin' on the Ritz was a fairly precise Stand, and she had a lot of practice back in training with aiming her discs. With a satisfying wooden clunk, Ritz removed the steel plate disc from the storage device mounted in her back.

It stepped out from behind the tank and threw it like a frisbree with speed and precision. "Don't move, comrade!" Ritz called out in a terrible Russian accent, breaking away from it's song. It sounded just like Chloe, but a recording of Chloe. The actual Chloe snickered to herself from behind her tank, pleased with herself. Chloe owed Tupolev everything at this moment- the least she could do was repay him by making sure he didn't catch a bullet.

The disc zoomed through the air where it snapped and shattered against the wire keeping Tupolev suspended. The wire was cut, but the disc broke in the process, which was Yonaka's plan. Materializing in the air was a free and half foot tall, five feet wide reinforced metal plate that looked like it belonged on the side of a troop transport. Gravity pulled it downward, but since it was recorded to be buried in the ground, it remained steadfast and upright as it plummeted down along with the unlucky Russian caught in the devious, gruesome trap.

It slammed into the ground, still upright, cutting through some of the looser parts of the net as it did so. It was heavily bullet resistant and would give Tupolev ample cover to cut himself free of any already damaged net. The tank continued it's advance. As it did so, it began to blindly spray pre-recorded bullets into the tree line.

"Sorry, Lilliane," Ritz apologised with a cheeky grin, turning away from Tupolev to glance at the french woman. "But I'm guessin' our cover was already blown, yeah?" The seven foot tall behemoth of a Stand shrugged, and then frowned as it began to concentrate on the battle ahead. Chloe, in her weakened state, was utilizing the booming potential of her Stand's voice to broadcast it's staticky message across the cacophany of battle. No doubt, though, the Stand shared the same mannerisms as it's user, who walked behind the tank with one hand on it's rear, whipping her head back and forth.

With that, the steel barrier was removed from her arsenal, but she could always record something else in it's stead. Besides, the last thing they needed was more people taking a bullet. Kiara seemed to have not done so well, but she was outside of Ritz' range to help. Hopefully she would be okay- she was the only one that didn't seem to mind Chloe's company.

Overall, Chloe was just happy to be alive and be back in the fight. While she did not partake in happiness from suffering, or violence, like everyone she enjoyed victory. She thought she would have to retire from being a soldier, which would probably ruin her life. Of course, Chloe came much closer to death than she realised. Either way, it was good to know she wouldn't be going home. Not yet.

The british woman had surmised that they were going up against a Stand that aided it's user in firing bullets. No one could have hit that shot through the smoke without being able to see through it. It was a single, precise shot. Not the surpressive fire of an entire squad. Had that been the case, Chloe would have summoned the barrier infront of herself and taken cover. The tank wouldn't be as useful if they were being surrounded by an enemy gun team, since it always trudged forward. Not to mention anti-tank weaponry could still destroy the projection and damage people around and near it. But, against a single sniper position with anti-personnel traps? The way she saw it, it was their best shot. Whatever the others had, they clearly didn't have a Stand capable of effeciently defending themselves from the devious traps that sniper twat had set up. So it was up to the wounded Chloe to push forward.

"We're pushin' up!" Ritz called out, her fist enthusiastically pounding on the Churchill's steel surface.

With his bulk, Taras wasn't the type of man that could avoid pressurized traps, so one wrong step could prove dangerous - and did, once he heard the soft and subtle shift beneath his foot of something moving that didn't belong there. In the next moment the man was hoisted up, caught in a slick net. It was fortunate there were no explosives in this trap, and instinctively Taras moved to cut himself out. He was stopped mid action by an unwelcome guest in his little space, coming face to face with the sheared visage of a man. Normally this kind of thing didn't bother him, and it didn't bother him now - but it made him pause just long enough that it might have proven lethal if not for Yonaka's quick intervention.

Even though her voice sounded a bit off as though relayed through a machine, the extremely poor attempt at mimicking his accent was more than enough to know it was Yonaka that called out. Taras was ripped from the air as something broke the cord and shattered against the tree, spawning a pretty large slab of metal. Both he and the plate hit the ground soon afterward, the gunman's bullet striking the shield. Spurred back into action, Taras cut himself free of his macabre bindings... but he didn't leave the shreds of the man behind. He took the face in one gloved hand, giving it a bit of a more thorough once over and barely suppressing a grin. Now this was art. The work of the truly deranged - or, the truly angry. He bundled the skin up and tucked it away before moving with as much speed as possible to join Yonaka behind the tank once it reached his area. The woman's Stand, or what he presumed was her Stand, was hard to miss.

"Well done," Taras spoke to the agent, "I am relieved to see you can do more than play music."

His tone wasn't sour for once, but to say it was friendly would be disingenuous. They still had some warming up to do with each other. After a moment Taras added, "Quick recovery too." His own Stand, still clinging to his back, wiggled a little bit with his words. Truth be told the Russian man was rather impressed with Ritz' abilities, but like hell he was going to admit that right now.

Quickly, he focused on the task at hand and ducked his head to relay what Yonaka likely already knew. "Single shooter. Annoying accuracy. Uncanny, even. This tank may not be able to protect us from that for long. Get us up to the fort though and this will be a one sided fight no longer." With a wry smile he patted the woman's freshly healed shoulder and flicked his gaze from her, to「Bad Case」, to the fortress. The little mechanical insect hopped off the man and scuttled quickly around the tank. With all that had suddenly happened, and Oscuro still on the move, now was the perfect time to send the Stand scouting. It was light and quick and soon enough「Bad Case」made it inside ahead of the group.