Liberty Squad: WW2 Mutants and Masterminds

[Yellow Sign]

No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country. - General George S. Patton, Jr

We shall defend our island whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on beaches, landing grounds, in fields, in streets and on the hills. We shall never surrender. - Winston Churchill.

Today we rule Germany, tomorrow, the world. - Adolf Hitler


The year is 1942 and the world is in flames. Germany controls most of Europe. Russia is fighting for it's life. Panzers rumble across North Africa. Japan sweeps across the Pacific. And the fate of the world hangs in the balance.

This is the story of a group of people who have extraordinary talents and abilities. These men and women stand up for their nations, their people, and their ways of life against the Axis evil.

They are the Liberty Squad

 

[Yellow Sign]

Headquarters, Soviet 2nd Shock Army near Novogrod

General Vlasov was bent over the large map, eyes searching for some escape for him and his men. He stood straight and stared out of the tent at the frenzied activity of the camp. For several minutes he stood there until he finally turns to the large youth who stands at attention.

"Ah Comrade Sergeant Feodor Ilyushkin, it is good to see you." He comes over and gives the big man a fatherly hug. "I have been keeping my eye on you. Your presence on the front is worth a brigade of our finest soliders." His eyes glance over to the map. "The damn germans have out foxed me this time. We are cut off from our supply routes. If we don't break out soon we will be crushed." He pauses as he steally gaze seems to bore a hole in the young man's soul. "But that is not why I have called you here. Major Ivanova?" Out of the shadows of the large tent steps a young woman officer. Her jet black hair is pulled back into a tight bun and her body is tall, well formed, and strong looking. As the americans would say, built like a brick house. Her face would be beautiful if not for it's serious professionalism.

"So this is the Red Bear?" she says as she studies the young man with a steady gaze.

 

[Yellow Sign]

Australian 22nd Brigade, Singapore, February 8th 1942

The Japs were charging again. A Bofors machine gun opened up but it was not
enough this time. A few Japs fell but most made it to the first line of ditches.
The whistle of incoming shells filled the air as the Australian positions took
another pounding. The four Aussies in the deep foxhole tried to get as deep in
it as possible as the shells rained down on them. After a few minutes the
shelling stopped and the young men shook the dirt and dust off and they stared
across the barbed wired. The could see the Japanese getting ready to make a
assault.

Frank a freckled faced 20 year old from Melborne grimaced as he lined up his
rifle. "Why do they always have to attack when I'm about to go on leave!" Ted
with his broad shoulders and broken nose chuckled. "Come on Frank, you know that
no one's getting leave for quite awhile. And I heard that those nurses up at the
hospital are shipping out! I guess that red head you've been chasing will have
to do with out your charms for a while!" Tom who had been listening to Frank and
Ted go one yelled. "What is that crazy lieutenant doing?" They all turned to see
a skinny lieutenant running like a jack rabbit towards their fox hole. Bullets
kicked up the dirt around him as he ran and with a dive he jumped into the
foxhole right onto of Tom. "Get off me you crazy dingo!" he yelled. The
lieutenant sat up and looked around. "I have a important message for Captain Dundee!"
With that the fourth man moved with a start.
"I am Captain Dundee." he said.

 

[garyh]

Headquarters, Soviet 2nd Shock Army near Novogrod

"So this is the Red Bear?" she says as she studies the young man with a steady gaze.

"Yes, Comrade-Major," Feodor replied. "How may I serve the people?"

OOC: I'm not sure whether a Soviet soldier would address a superior officer as "comrade" or "sir/ma'am." Assume I'm using the correct one.

 

[Yellow Sign]

Massachusetts Institute of Technology,
Cambridge, Massachusetts USA

The white lab coated scientist had be proding and probing Dr. Nicholas Thimes, aka Minuteman, for most of the morning. It was strange to be on the other side of a research project for once. Being the subject of study and not the studier. That pretty brunette research assistant was drawing some blood and he gave her a wink. She blushed and was about to say something when the double doors to the lab opened. In walked Paul Longstreet, his offical handler in the OSS. Paul and Nick had become good friends in the few short months they had been working together for the War Department.

"Excuse my people but I need Dr. Thimes." Paul said. "Hey Nick, put some clothes on will ya. There are some people here to see you."

 

[Yellow Sign]

A Isolated Beach 3 km south of Nevez France


Moses Buber could not believe that he was headed to London. The small inflatable boat seemed to be going no where in the foggy night though the british sailors rowed with a strong rhythm. Some where out there in the night was a british submarine waiting to take him to England. It had been only two days since the message from the Free French command exiled in England to the small Resistance cell that he had been working with. The news of his special abilities had spread fast. General de Gaulle himself had sent the orders for him to be picked up and taken across the channel. What fate awaited him he did not know. Out of the fog a dark shape loomed and the boat pulled up to the submarine. Men hustled to unload the boat and bring it aboard. A officer in a Free French uniform called out to him as he boards.

"Monsieur Buber? I am Lieutenant Alexandre Moreau. I am so glad that you made it safely."

 

[Yellow Sign]

Featherstone Hall Commons, Sussex England

The Commandos went about their morning drills and exercise. The normally spotless green commons area was now filled with uniformed men, tents, and large obstacle coarse. Rifle fire could be heard from the target range down by the pond.

Lord Lucian DeVries Featherston-Haugh IV looked over the men and smiled. They were a jolly good group of chaps. Willing and eager to give the Hun a good what for when the time comes. The despatch from General Thrasher lay open in his hand. The time had come. The special group of men would be finally come together tomorrow. Featherston-Haugh looked down at the list: a American Speedster, a Australian Supersolider, a Brute of a Russian, a French Jew who could meld with machines, and himself. Well if anything we should get some good propaganda out of this new Liberty Squad. The "Allies working together" and all that rot. Well I had better get my stuff together and get down to London. Churchill would throw a fit if I was late to my own party.

 

[Yellow Sign]

"Yes, Comrade-Major," Feodor replied. "How may I serve the people?"

"Comrade-Serzhant Feodor, the central command has a special assignment for you and you will leave with me immediately. Stalin himself has written the order! You have been giving the chance to represent the Motherland and to portray the Soviet ideal to the world. I have a plane waiting for us to fly to Moscow and then to Murmansk. There we will take a submarine to England. You are instructed to follow my every order to the letter. Do you understand?"

 

[Dirigible]

Marksman

Lucian swaggers up to his rooms, and sets his man Clydely to packing his tote bag. Meanwhile, he stepped into the dressing room and opened his clean, pressed 'costume'. He slid on the grey undershirt with the crosshairs symbol, and then the stylish, fur-necked jacket. Turning, he admired himself in the full length mirror. "Thank gawd I don't have to wear fatigues," he muttered with a curl of the lip. When he saw this expression on his face in the mirror, he paused and carefully observed it, watching the effect and storing it away for future reference.

Stepping out, he took his tote bag from the pantiently waiting manservant, and instructed "Do have the car brought around front, Clydely". As his man glided out, Lucian went to see Bessie. Ahh, she was beautiful, from polished-walnut butt to gleaming blue steel, a work of art. Lucian picked her up reverently, checking her mechanisms with practised fingers. He lowered the rifle into it's carry case; she would not suffer the indignity of being slung over someone's shoulder like a common M1.

With the case under his arm, Lucian made his way to the stairs down to the main hall. As he passed, he paused, glancig at his father's door. Everything that needed to be said had been said last night, and perhaps a little more. The prospect of absense lubricated the tongue in a sometimes uncomfortable way.

Then he passed Bethany's door. Though his heart ached to go in and see her once more, everything he needed to say, though not perhaps waht he wanted to say had been said. He didn't think he could take the tears a second time. Slightly subdued now, he passed his bag to Clydely and slipped into the back seat of the car. It hurt that he would not be able to see his dear fiance one last time.

 

[Darth Ecks]

Australian 22nd Brigade, Singapore, February 8th 1942


"What is that crazy lieutenant doing?" They all turned to see a skinny lieutenant running like a jack rabbit towards their fox hole. Bullets kicked up the dirt around him as he ran and with a dive he jumped into the foxhole right onto of Tom. "Get off me you crazy dingo!" he yelled. The lieutenant sat up and looked around. "I have a important message for Captain Dundee!"
With that the fourth man moved with a start.
"I am Captain Dundee." he said.

"Let's 'ave a look at that letter, mate," the captain started, "What's so important that it has you runnin' 'round like a 'roo bein' chased by a pack of hungry dingoes?"