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Silvestru

Aberrant: Infinite Earth - Fiction - [A&A] Miracle Joe

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“Just find the most Aryan American you’ve ever seen in the middle of the forest. He’ll be friendly. And he should be able to speak German.”

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The instructions from Wilheim had been unhelpful, to Silvestru’s point of view. The archer ghosted through the woods without a final destination or end point, without concrete instructions, without a defined timeline, and with a description that matched half the strapping farm lads of the area.

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Worse, this entire affair annoyed her. She hated being sent out to babysit an Allied soldier who was probably coming. Probably. The radio communication had stated that he was, but this was a war. Silvestru held out zero expectation of things happening as they should.

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She came over a hill and paused, pulling out her map. Tilting it so that the dim moonlight fell on the paper, she glanced at it and checked the position of the stars and the terrain. The valley below was the meeting place for the G.I. Joe. Silvestru thought about going down there but instead she clambered up into a tree, settled against the trunk and waited for the Allies’s miracle.

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Maybe I’ll have someone else rail against the useless resistance with me.

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For Ryan, the entire operation seemed to be a waste of his abilities. He was a fighter pilot, a Colonel,and his men would need him. Still he was a soldier and a soldier followed orders, even those he didn't like.

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High Command wanted him to infiltrate Germany and provide what aid he could to the Resistance, to stiffen the spine, and disrupt the German War machine as much as possible. It wasn't going to be easy, which was the understatement of the year.

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So, he'd been dropped from high altitude at night, and used his abilities sparingly to land safely. he was unarmed in the traditional sense, and wore no dogtags, something he truly hated. There was nothing to identify him as an American, or even Allied soldier.

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So it was that he walked through the woods, out to meet the resistance, proceeding at a normal pace, A member of the master race out for a deep woodlands hike. He couldn't help but feel another presence, he was being watched, but it concerned him not. He moved along humming the final movement from Beethoven's 9th Symphony.

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The big man who came strolling into the valley via the path certainly looked like the ‘most Aryan American’ Silvestru had ever seen. His whistling was disconcerting; he was projecting casual native a little too well. It made her nervous, because he was either a native German out for a walk, or he was taking this too lightly.

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Or he was a good actor. Silvestru mulled over that belated thought as she watched him stroll up the road. It must be her American contact, she finally decided, rolling off her tree branch in near-silence. Catching herself before hitting the ground, she lowered herself down and cut through the darkness to intercept him.

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Just before she reached the path, she took off her pants, letting the skirt of her dress hang loose. It was only a little wrinkled, not that she cared. When she put her overshirt in her shoulder satchel, she looked like any German lass out for a walk. Slipping out of the woods, she fell into step with the man as if she’d been walking next to him the whole time. “Good evening,” she said pleasantly in German. “Where are you heading, mister?”

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He is bigger than I thought he’d be…

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"I'm just out for a stroll, enjoying my evening." His own German was perfect, even down to the inflection he used that would mark him as a native of Berlin.

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He didn't draw himself up but looked askance at her, actively pinging her to see if this was the super he was told would meet him. She was younger, and over a foot shorter than him, which surprised him abit, not that he showed it. Getting back a strong signal from her he relaxed slightly. He spoke the code phrase that he'd been told and smiled. If he was wrong he'd have to be incredibly fast.

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"Tyger, Tyger, burning bright.."

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“In the forests of the night.” Silvestru wasn’t sure why those words had been chosen; she wasn’t educated enough to realize it was a well-known poem. He was huge, so large it made her nervous, but she still wound her arm around his. Bumping lightly against him as they walked, she murmured, “We have a house nearby for the night, then we can go on to Berlin in the morning. Can you drive?”

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“Of course.” His answer was exactly the one she’d hoped for.

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“Good, my driving is…” She paused to find the right word in German. Unlike Ryan, her Deutsch was marked with the softer language of Romania. “Not good,” she finally finished. There was no shame in her words. She dropped her voice lower still and whispered, “There are papers at the house, giving us identities. Married, just until we get to Berlin.” Her green eyes, washed out to silver by the moon, gave him a slight warning glare.

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“Once there, I will show you to my friends.” She snorted, an unladylike noise. “I hope you can talk some sense into them. They do not listen to a ‘slip of a girl playing at soldier’.” She mimicked Herr Bauer perfectly, though Ryan wouldn’t realize that until he met the man. “You do not have a pizdă, so clearly you are smarter than me.”

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pizdă – Romanian slang term for pussy, can also mean bitch

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Ryan nodded, but remained silent a moment. Being a married couple wasn't something he was briefed on, but nonetheless, here it was far more common for couples to have such an age difference.

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. "I wouldn't say smarter, clearly you've been doing just fine so far. Perhaps you can tell me the ideas you've had, and what they've done counter to them, and I can choose which to back." his tone was mostly neutral.

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"I wasn't told much before coming over,and I'm jut here to help to the best of my abilities."

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He took her hand in his, in what back home would pass as affection between a married couple. "None of us are "mere" anything, Sometimes it take the seemingly smallest of hands to turn the wheels of the world."

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He gave he a polite smile. "Now if I am to be your husband, I should know about you, so that such a thing will appear natural to those who may see."

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It was clear that his words and gesture were not meant to cause offense, but the work of a miltiary mind, assembling intel regarding his available assets, and playing the part that had been crafted for him thus far.

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