Chapter 3: Stalingrad

A/N: Hello, everyone! It’s 1:34 in the morning, and I am really tired, but I decided to write this, so enjoy?

Kitty

Kitty slowly opened an eye. Then the other. She was standing on the roof of a building. All around her, other buildings were falling apart, on fire, destroyed. The sound of gunfire and the screams of dying men echoed through the air: Stalingrad. She looked down, letting go of Nathaniel. She was wearing an odd brown trench coat. She could feel a hat of some sort on her head. It was fuzzy and warm. She also noted the weight on her back. She grabbed her shoulder and felt a strap. She pulled it off and grabbed what it was latched on to: A bolt-action rifle. She frowned down at it. She knew how to work a gun, but she had never held one before, let alone fired one. Dimitry, on the other hand, looked naturally comfortable with his gun. Queezle and Bartimaeus seemed un-naturally comfortable with their guns. Bartimaeus’s was a shorter version of what she had. Queezle had some weird gun that had a drum thing in a port in the top of it. It also had a bi-pod. Nathaniel had a peculiar gun: it had a short barrel that was simply connected to the butt, but it had a drum sticking out behind the trigger. And man, was Nathaniel un-comfortable with that thing. First he pointed it the wrong way (barrel at his own head), then he tried holding it with one hand and promptly dropped it. Dimitry gave a cry of exasperation. Five minutes later, Nathaniel was holding the weapon correctly. “Alright, move.” Dimitry said, signaling forward.

Dimitry A. Popov

Dimitry felt such a thrill, one he hadn’t felt since Afghanistan as a Colonel in the KGB. And this was a much bigger thrill. The KGB rarely saw battle: He was currently in the battle that would prove to have one of the highest body counts of the war. He moved silently, keeping his SVT-40 at waist level. The “djinni” thing held its weapon correctly and seemed to know how to use it just fine, but he looked uncomfortable with it. So did the blond-haired one that he supposed was Queezle. Dimitry raised a hand and peeked around the corner. There was a small fire contained by a slightly scorched tire. Four Germans sat around it. Dimitry signaled to the others. They didn’t understand. He gave a silent cry of exasperation and mouthed “enemy.” They all nodded. Dimitry held his breath, and stepped out from behind the corner. He fired six shots: three hit one German in the head, removing most of it and leaving a massive jagged hole dripping blood. Two hit the tire, and the final one hit a German in the chest. The remaining two scrambled for their weapons. Kitty stepped out and fired. She missed by a few feet. Queezle stepped out. She looked at the gun with distaste (it was a DP-28, a machine gun. And she was carrying it with one hand. Dimitry gawked at her. If it hadn’t been winter, flies would have landed in his mouth.) She pulled and held the trigger. The gun didn’t seem to have any recoil at all. Fifteen or so green tracers streaked out: ten hit one German, ripping him in half, five hit the other, tearing of one leg and most of the other. “Oh, Jesus.” Nathaniel said. He was slightly green in the face. He had being trying to shoot, but the trigger was refusing to budge. Dimitry tore the gun from his hands and flicked the safety off. Nathaniel was sufficiently embarrassed.

Four hours later, they were resting around a small fire made by the two (he had learned Queezle was a djinni when she had ripped a German that had surprised her in half with her bare hands) djinni. Apparently, not all of their powers had been taken away. They could still make small fires. Everyone was glad: it was cold, but they were all warm in their parkas combinded with the fire. Well, mostly warm. Dimitry looked up. Lets see, what was everyone doing...ah: Nathaniel and that girl were kissing vigorously, Bartimaeus was swearing how he’d kill the voice when this was over, and Queezle was trying to shut him up, which she succeeded in doing by kissing him, earning her a look Dimitry read as shock/lust. Then, Dimitry heard the call. “Comrade Commissar! Comrade Commissar!” someone was yelling. Dimitry remained immobile till he remembered he was wearing a Commissar’s garb and trench coat. He stood up and turned around. A group of Red Army soldiers was running towards him. “Comrade.” he responded (in Russian, of course.) The group reached him. Most of them had Mosin Nagants of the M19/30 model. “Comrade Commissar, the Germans—...err...” he said, cutting off when he saw Nathaniel and the girl kissing (he didn’t really notice Bartimaeus’s “Holy-shit-you-really-just-did-that” look he was giving Queezle.) Dimitry sighed. “Oi, you two! Quit it!” he yelled. The two immediately stopped. Nathaniel blushed very deeply, adjusting his fur cap so it slightly covered his eyes. The girl pretended to fiddle with the bolt on her Mosin, but she, too, was blushing. “...Right. So you were saying...?” Dimitry asked. “Uh, the Germans have launched a Blitzkrieg attack. Again. I’ve found about three hundred people already to try to fend it off. We could really use a leader, sir.” he said. Dimitry straightened up. “Well, yes. Let us leave. Also, Vanya, remember to take the safety off.” It took Nathaniel a little to realize Dimitry had labeled him with a Russian name, as happens in the translating of names from English to Russian. He blushed even more then he already was, adjusted his cap some more, and set off behind everyone else.

The Sergeant, as Dimitry learned he was, led them to a train station where the other soldiers were holding up. Upon arrival, Dimitry noted the fact that the defenses were already decently organized. Under his careful eye (and his training from his years with the KGB), they soon had a top-notch fortress. Queezle patrolled around the building, carrying the DP-28 like a toy and surprising quite a few (all) of the men she passed, except Bartimaeus and Nathaniel. Nathaniel just ignored her unless she spoke to him, and Bartimaeus just nodded to her. Finally, smoke producded by Artillery began to fall on the open ground. Nathaniel aimed as best he could. Bartimaeus followed suit, but he did so in a much more organized manner. Dimitry sat next to them, staring down the sights of the SVT-40. He saw a figure move. He fired. The figure slumped over and a small patch of snow turned red. More figures appeared in the smoke, sprinting forward. He raised his weapon again, only to be halted by the sound of eight shots with about one millisecond intervals between them, then one second, then eight shots again. Each time eight shots were fired, eight Germans fell. Dimitry and Nathaniel looked at Bartimaeus in astonishment. “What? It’s very easy. You humans and your toys–“ he was cut off as a bullet from a sniper hit him in the head. He went flying back. Nathaniel’s eyes bulged, Dimitry cursed. Bartimaeus stood up. They both gawked. “What? It wasn’t silver. Magic isn’t necessarily resilience or strength, i.e when Queezle ripped the guy in half.” Nathaniel nodded. Dimitry thought about it for a second and also nodded. Nathaniel turned around, and pulled the trigger and held it down. He hit one German in the eye (very, very, very lucky shot, plus the fact that he was only a few feet away from the building) which exploded, but the rest of his shots were a mini-AA gun. Dimitry cursed. “Fight the recoil, boy! Try to hold it level!” Nathaniel nodded and tried again. The results were phenomenal. The battlefield was already littered with bodies. Nathaniel added about twelve more within two minutes much to his amazement, Dimitry’s happiness (he no longer had to correct him), and Bartimaeus’s–, well, Bartimaeus couldn’t care less. Everything seemed fine for the soldiers held up in the train station until a piercing warning scream (In Russian, of course) ran out: “TANKS!”

Author: Well, Review.

Nathaniel: Yes, please do–oh, yes, Kitty!

General Guardirean, Bartimaeus, Dimitry, and everyone else except Kitty and Nathaniel: ...Ewwww.

Author: taps desk Yes, well, that’s all for now. So tired. Ugh, I have a bad feeling I did a bad job writing this chapter. Now, goodnight.

Nathaniel & Kitty: Indeed, good night. For us, anyway.

Everyone: Ewwww.

General Guardirean: Well...I guess considering I’m General, I’m in command now!

Everyone(Except the General): Oh fu-Author, help!

Author: Snoooorrrrrrrre

Everyone (Except the General): Shit. D:

Review! Please?