76/Winter Bites

Winter Bites
Date of Scene:	24 April 2017
Location:	Russia
Synopsis:	Agent Peggy Carter and S.S.R. Asset Bigby Wolf try to survive a winter in Russia, during World War II...
Cast of Characters:	Bigby Wolf, Peggy Carter

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Bigby Wolf has posed:
Winter is hard.

But no one can truly say that of winter, until they have experienced 'winter in Russia'. The cold has such teeth that it might as well be a manifestation of Fenris, Godwolf of Ragnarok himself... Bigby Wolf scoffs at that notion.

//God-wolf.//

He's a 'god-wolf'... although he'd rather prefer 'Goddamned Wolf'; that suits his vocabulary much, much better. The amber-eyed man looks around the ramshackle barn -- somewhere in one of the country towns of Russia -- and snorts. A cloud of hot air escapes his nostrils and he heads toward the haystacks in the back.

"How ya holdin' up, Carter?" he inquires over his shoulder. "Ain't much of a den fer a 'denmother' but it'll hafta do... Goddamnit, who'd wanna live here by //choice??//"

Peggy Carter has posed:
Of course she was in Russia. Of course it was the middle of the winter. Of course, the rest of the Howlers were back in some tavern tweenty clicks off the border, probably drinking and having a grand old time, while the two 'most likely to survive' this Russian winter finished the mission. Or, well, the one most likely to survive and the only other one that spoke Russian. They needed Peggy's translation skills. So, she was out in the field with Bigby, and regretting every moment of it.

The coded message had been picked up an hour ago. Once she broke the code, she'd know their next drop location. The next meeting point. They could help smuggle their two new scientists, and equipment, out of this frozen hellhole soon. But that still involved her trying to break the Russian cypher in front of her, and it was getting to the point of so cold she couldn't think. "...Fine. Just bloody well fine. Can't think with you breathing down my neck every five minutes." It'd been twenty since the last time he checked, which was probably not a good sign. But she was still awake and alive, so that was a good sign.

Bigby Wolf has posed:
"Yes, Mother," the man mutters just loud enough to be heard and turns away. A hand goes to his face, itching at the short beard... which was only shaved a couple of hours ago. Damnit. Out comes the razor and Bigby goes about 'dry-shaving' all over again.

"Can't smell nothin' -- aside from you'n the trail left by the other Howlers... We're alone fer now. Just swell. I'm hungry. Got me a craving fer pork..."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I swear, B-bigby, if you eat this farm's pigs... I'll brain y-you. We didn't come out here for you t-to have a bloody feast. And I'm not your mum." Peggy scoffs out flatly, but she cannot hide the shivering in her voice. It's getting cold enough that she can hardly think, much less hold the damn pen to finish breaking the code. It's taken her far longer than it normally would, but this is the most bitter night any of them have faced, by far. Peggy Carter was prepared for a lot. She wasn't prepared for this.

However, prepared or not, she had a job to do. So, after that little insistence, she turns her dark eyes back down to the one time use pad in front of her, trying to line up the letters in the long light and heavy shadows of the single gas lamp she had to use.

Bigby Wolf has posed:
The wind howls outside the barn, irritating the burly, hairy fellow in a trenchcoat, and he stalks past Carter toward the door. Opening it just a little -- and letting in more of the cold -- the Fable-in-human-clothing barks at the wind:

"Piss off! We're tryin' ta think!"

Instantly, if relucantly, the wind decides it would be best to go //around// the barn... instead of trying to knock it down. Bigby turns back to Peggy and grunts: "Yer welcome. I'm gonna see about a fire -- no. Check that. Can't risk it. Goddamnit. 'Join the S.S.R.' they said... 'Serve yer country' they said... Ain' //my// country -- not this, //or//... wait. Where'ya from again?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
The woman blinks, looking up as the wind abruptly... Stops. Well, she can still hear it howling outside, somewhere else, but it's not coming through this old, rickety barn any more. Peggy gives him a smirking little look, shaking her head slowly, "...always full of surprises, aren't you? you'll have to teach me that trick, some day." Peggy mutters flatly, but the tone of her voice isn't quite so bitter. It's holding the underpinnings of absolutely gratitude. Maybe she could actually think now.

She looks back down to the pad and, after flexing her fingertips back and forth a few times to try and wake up the blood in her hands, she begsin copying down the shifted code once more. "No fire. We can't risk anyone actually bloody well realizing we are here. And I'm from Surrey... originally. England, if you don't know where Surrey, is." Peggy admits with a little clipped smirk.

Bigby Wolf has posed:
Bigby shrugs.

"Don' like anyone huffin'n puffin' but me..." then he sits himself down -- rather, rests on his haunches -- just a few feet away from Peggy.

"Speakin' o' secrets 'n shit -- what're you hopin' the cipher will tell us? HYDRA's got its tentacles into everythin' around Europe. We could be anywhere next..."

He sniffs.

"Actually I don' mind that at all."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The rosy cheeked, and now slightly blue lipped, British woman looks up from the one time pad towards Bigby's pale, ever slightly menacing and yet oddly handsome eyes. "I am not huffing or puffing, thank you very much." Peggy insists, ever contrary and rather in denial about just how cold she is right now. She then looks back down to her work, getting through another line, at least.

"There are two scientists who are willing to defect to the SSR. Our contacts in Moscow have got them out of there, but this should let us know the pick up location... somewhere near this town. And time. Sometime in the next two days. If we're lucky... we won't need any of the other boys for this. It can be a quiet pick up in the dead of night. If we're not so lucky, well... Then we bring in the big guns." Peggy admits, no longer quite shivering, but she might be beyond that right now. At least she's almost done with the decoding.

Bigby Wolf has posed:
"Defectors again, huh?" the hairy man replies while still shaving with his razor. He has to do this several times a day -- if he doesn't want to look like a wildman from the woods, all beard and eyes. "Can't say I blame 'em... 'any edge is still an edge'... speakin' o' which..."

He glares at the blunt razor, and sticks it back in his pocket. Useless. "Well, there's plenty o' hay in here... fer a barn. No horse-rugs or anythin'. How're ya holdin' up, Carter? Yer lips're blue."

In a sense, he doesn't need to inquire -- he can smell her annoyance at the code she is trying to break, and hear her teeth chattering... to say the least. Still, it is polite to ask anyway. A lonely barn in the middle of Russian winter -- it's to be expected.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"The University of Moscow has a good engineering program. And, in truth, we could use more Russian speakers." If they had more Russian speakers, Peggy might not be out here in hell frozen over as she is right now! She finishes the last line, looking down to the pad in a quiet huff, "Fine. I'm fine." Peggy lies. She's generally a pretty good liar. She's gone undercover many times. Tonight, however, she's a fairly awful liar. SHe's too cold and too tired.

"...Tomorrow... two hours after sundown. And coordinates. Shite. We... have to stay here a whole other day. God dammit." Peggy mutters beneath her breath. It's the first, genuine crack in her attitude and words. She didn't know if she'd actually be able to make it through the night and into another day. But she finished the task.

Bigby Wolf has posed:
"Ya can't lie ta me, Denmother," Bigby replies with a shake of his head and a rueful half-smirk on his lips. The man (who appears to be in his forties) rolls his eyes and quietly walks behind her... where he begins undressing.

It only takes moments, and as he does... he changes form. Within the space of seconds, the man is gone and there is left... a giant, umber-furred wolf about twice the size of a pony or quarterhorse. He quietly pads around and in front of Carter and promptly lies down on the ground.

"Sit by me," says he in a deep, gravelly voice that can't help but sound awful. "I'm warmer than the storm. You'll thank me later -- an' I swear not to slobber on yer clothes. Honest."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Idly having read the file, knowing that there are certain transformative gifts that this man has, and even having glimpsed fur and muscle on the battlefield but once, it makes up nothing for actually seeing the entire change in person. Peggy no longer has her one time use pad to distract her, the numbers from the station having all run out by now. She stares, pen dropping from her mostly numb hand. Very little shocks Peggy Carter. This might be one of those things, though.

"...My, my...what... big... Everything you have... Mr. Wolf." Peggy rasps out, trying not to sound as shocked as she feels and so, of course, she's grasping for humor. "...I don't think I've ever known a single man who doesn't drool in bed, so...I won't hold my breath on that promise." That teasing is a bit more firm and steady, Peggy having recovered her mind. Finally, about to protest but the wind is eeking back in again, she shifts to the side and sinks towards him, settling down into the heat of fur. She hadn't realized quite how old she was until this moment. She's an ice doll of a woman against him right now.

Bigby Wolf has posed:
Bigby groans.

"Enough with the fairy-tale shit... please. Pardon the French. Ugh." The big, dark wolf shakes his shaggy head before resting it forlornly on his forepaws.

"Besides... Red Riding Hood is a freakin' Nazi and a traitor. Shoulda eaten her when I had the chance..." He goes quiet for a bit there, listening to the wind. "How's that code-breakin' comin' along? Bah... the others are probably swillin' beer at this point. Do ya know where the Captain is?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Told you, it's done. I've got the location, about two clicks north of here... but not until sundown *tomorrow*. It's... going to be a long damn night." Peggy mutters quietly. Now having accepted that yes, she'd probably need to go to sleep curled up against the too huge wolf man behind her, she's simply taking it like business. No comments, no flirtation, this was no different than going to sleep at the bunker. Perfectly normal and boring in the line of duty, of course!

So, wordless about it, Peggy curls herself a bit closer against him, and remembers what it is to have feeling in her limbs. She hadn't realized quite how blue her lips had gotten. "And you must be joking about Red Riding Hood... being real AND being a Nazi. Surely."

Bigby Wolf has posed:
"I don' joke," replies the wolf.

A pause.

"I'm sure as hell real; that should be enough fer ya. Alright then... damn I need a cigarette. Or... ten. Can't smoke it in this form...but I'm cravin' pork more'n ever. Swell. Juuuust swell. So we wait until mornin', and then see what's what...wait. I smell somethin'..."

He lifts his head toward the door, his ears angled the same way, and a frown upon his lupine face. "Cigarettes... body odour... an' German sausage...They're on foot, headin' fer the house..."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Now, slowly warming up, Peggy is half tempted to fall asleep. He could probably feel it off of her, the exhaustion of the day, the fact that none of them slept much in the field, and the sluggishness of a body that has been burning far too many calories just trying to stay functional. Peggy's head tucks in against his chest a bit deeper, dark eyes lidding drowsily.

"Well... Forget the harlot, then. There's a lot of proper English girls back home that would be plenty lucky to find a wolf... man... like you." Peggy does actually mean that, even if the statement was slightly awkward. "And yes, we wait until morning then start hiking." She affirms. She's this close to dropping off to sleep when he comments about smelling something. "...shite. Germans... or locals? Maybe they won't search out here. If we can keep our heads down, it's best to do so..." She's dropped her voice into being nothing but the rasp of a whisper against his chest.

Bigby Wolf has posed:
Given Bigby's earlier 'conversation' with the wind, rather than howling madly at the barn doors and shuttered windows, it carries other sounds to it, then leaves. Voices soon accompany the description of scents the wolfman had just given -- voices in German.

They are definitely soldiers.

Sick to death of the cold -- almost literally. They are freezing, despite their coats and helmets, and they are without transport. A discussion ensues -- a debate, regarding their choice of shelter: house or barn.

Bigby, in his massive wolf form, scarcely breathes. So much of this mission can go wrong if they are even //seen// here...

Peggy Carter has posed:
The woman is now, if slowly, able to start thinking more clearly. Peggy didn't realize just how much the cold had slowed her down, making the whole world into a cotton, exhausted mess of function. Now she's getting some feeling back in her frame, pressed into that big, furred figure, and the clouds are slowly pulling away from her head. She listens to the conversation, not entirely understanding HOW she can hear it, but also not certain if Bigby speaks German, so one of them would need to translate.

"...They... have been traveling a while. Transport is dead. Going to take shelter here... haven't decided between the house or the barn. Our hosts would be... smart to put them in the house. Very smart. The Reich will not be happy with a barn..." and then Peggy and Bigby would have some VERY fast moving to do. She falls quiet again, tryign to listen to the voices over the sound of his breath and heart against her.

Bigby Wolf has posed:
The giant, umber-furred wolf shifts his gaze to the woman sitting beside him, but says nothing. Anything he says -- while this big -- is likely to be heard... so he nods.

Someone wins the argument outside, and the soldiers make their way to the house. 'BASH! BASH! BASH!' one can hear their fists striking the door. Bigby narrows his eyes, and the wind shifts again -- no doubt ticking off the Germans a bit more at the sudden change -- but now it brings voices from the house toward the barn...

Russian and... halting Russian... then louder, more confident German. Bigby again looks at Peggy; he cannot understand what they are saying, but he can smell and hear the emotions bleeding off them.

It isn't good.

When a woman's voice is heard (in Russian), her emotions high -- all fear and more fear -- Bigby nearly stands up, alarmed.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Of course, the worst thing that could happen is that their Russian 'friends' would fight back. Because then Peggy and Bigby couldn't help but get involved, both of their hearts too firmly in the right place. Peggy stiffens as she listens, especially to that female Russian voice. Her head shakes quickly, incidating the issue inside is Not Good.

"...Dammit... the woman is terrified, the man is probably going to fight back. We... dammit... They're going to need help." Peggy swears beneath her breath again and pushes herself quickly up from the ground. At least she had some of the feeling back in her limbs now, especially if they were going to go intervene and start a fight. She lifts one hand to her lips, indicating silence as much as possible. "...can you get...Smaller? If we can sneak up without them noticing, all the better." Somehow, she has a feeling the wind is going to help.

While she still can feel her hands and feet, Peggy gets as small and quiet as she can. She grips her own firearm close to herself, cocked and ready should she need it. Silent as death among the wind, she begins to creep outside of the barn and through the snow, towards those voices. She's hugging every shadow she can find.

Bigby Wolf has posed:
"It ain' the mission," the gigantic wolf growls as softly as he can in his deep, guttural voice... even as his form shrinks down to something more 'normal' for a wolf that talks.

A pause.

He's seen that look before -- Peggy's 'we have to do something; we're //going// to do something' look.

"That ginger feller -- Dugan -- was right about you," says he as he stands to his paws and shakes out his fur a bit. "'Do as Peggy says.' ...So I do as Peggy says...Goddamnit."

In the time it has taken for the little bit of banter, voices at the house have risen to shouts -- with soldiers pointing guns, and one already trying to force his way indoors. One makes an wholeheartedly inappropriate comment about the farmer's wife.

And now... Bigs is pissed.

"Make yer move," he growls low and quietly to Peggy as they sneak forward. "I'll back ya. Do it fast." Now who's giving orders? The wolf lopes away, clearly intending to come at them from a different angle.

It's a pack thing.

Peggy Carter has posed:
A deep smirk crosses her pale lips as he comments about Dugan and the mission. She just stares at him for the space of a heartbeat, clearly not going to be talked out of this. Then Peggy is out the door. Lives trump the mission every time, at least at this point in her career. Days and years will change that down the line, but when she's a soldier on the field with a young heart and determination to save the world? Every life matters.

Hearing the fight get more heated, Peggy decides there is no time to waste. However, there ar eguns pointed, and that meant she had to be more than careful. To disable or pull the guns away from the innocents both at the same time. She mentally curses, hugging the side of the house, and then she's moving as fast as a human can.

It might go poorly, it probably would, but one violent kick comes up at the first German's gun hand and she's shooting the second's with her own pistol. It didn't knock them out, which had been her first hope, but making certain no civilians got shot took priority.

Bigby Wolf has posed:
To the wolf's ears and muzzle, the cacophony of emotions changes -- and changes abruptly. Shock (from everyone), turns to anger (for most -- the Germans), and HOPE (for the Russian couple in the house) all in the space of a single instant.

Guns go off; the only one that strikes anything is Peggy's... although a soldier's bullet does shred the photo on the wall opposite the door, behind the farmer's wife's head.

Close.

Then the moment is past and all five Nazi soldiers are contending with a lone British agent... and her wolf. Bigby emerges from the shadows like a dark blur of fur and fang. He goes straight for the guns too -- and one can hear the crunch of metal in his jaws.

A Nazi pulls a hunting knife and slashes at Peggy with it, while the farmer pulls his wife inside, and goes to hide in one of the rooms. Away from danger. Bigby bites deeply into a Jerry's throat -- and the scream dies in a gurgle.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Apparently, there's still a bit of cotton in Peggy's mind, because she thought there were only two soldiers at first. She'd only heard two voices, she had made some poor decisions. Two on one? She can handle. Even three on one. But five? She is now in over her head, but certainly not going to back down now, especially as the Russian couple ducks inside and out of the immediate line of fire. That first bullet had gotten a bit too close.

Peggy whips around with a violent kick to one of the approaching soldiers behind, fighting faster than any woman has a right to know nowadays, but she's been practicing. The slash to her shoulder lands, because in the mental calculations of a fight a knife is always better to take than a gun, so she's busy disabling the third soldier's gun. Or, more so, seizing in for a grab of that soldier's wrist in a practiced hold which, after a brief twist, crumples the bones of his wrist like a plastic bottle. It's a nasty move, it's not fair fighting, but neither was five on two. Peggy just trusts that wolf to hold the other's off. She is not fighting for mercy, she's fighting out of desperation and survival. They could not let a single Nazi walk away from this one.

Bigby Wolf has posed:
There's a lot to be said for the element of surprise -- and the courage of one, thoroughly determined, hard-hitting British lady. And a wolf. The 'Jerries' also have been out in the cold a LONG time: fingers struggle to grip blades, or triggers. Eyes can barely see in the dark -- and there's some beast tearing them to shreds...

The sound of which is horrible.

Only one of the the Jerries is lucky enough to get in a decent strike against Carter -- a jab to the ribs with the butt of his ruined rifle. Smart fellow.

Dead fellow.

Bigby stands momentarily on that soldier's body before throat-slashing another. One Nazi gets out of the melee. He turns. He runs. The wolf looks at Peggy.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The butt to the ribs, and her now freely bleeding shoulder, means that Peggy is NOT going to be able to keep up with that Jerry. She's not dead or dying, but that strike to her ribs probably cracked something and definitely knocked the wind out of her. A pile of nazis, most leaking blood from somewhere, lay around her as she nods to the wolf, "...they'll kill these people if someone reports back. Go... get him..." She rasps out. She knows she just gave a kill order. She doesn't care.

Her gun comes around as the last of the nazis on the ground, only disabled and not dead, begins to stir. She doesn't even give him a chance to get up or reach for a weapon. Her pistol coughs out a single shot, straight to his forward, and the body snaps back into the snow with a spray of blood behind him. Because it's definitely not a man any more, just a body. Peggy stares down at the scene, waiting to hear the final chokes of death in the darkness. She trusts Bigby to handle it.

Bigby Wolf has posed:
Bigby handles it.

A blast of wind suddenly projects the fleeing Nazi straight up into the air, his cries for help barely heard about the howling storm. The wolf leaps at the same instant, and silences the soldier mid-flight.

The wolf disappears.

Inside the house, the farmer pokes his head out into the hallway... and his eyes go wide at the carnage on his threshold. He might not have seen the wolf -- all he sees now is a woman carrying a gun, standing over bodies that have been mutilated.

What must he think?

When Bigby returns, it is as a man... who has forgotten he'd left his clothes back in the barn. The cold does not seem to bother him at all, and he is spattered with blood.

"It's done," says he with a grunt. "Go talk to the farmers. I'll... take care o' all o' this..." and he eyes the bodies meaningfully.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Of course, Peggy had already started taking care of this. Fortunately, her Russian is excellent as she looks back up to the farmer who had come out to see the carnage. In Russian, though she lacks the local accent, she explains quietly, "If we let any of them live, they would have brought back more. You can never speak of this and they cannot blame you. My friend and I will make them disappear. Comfort your wife." Her voice is already, slightly, shivering. But she has to keep moving and adrenaline is helping.

So, she's leaning over gingerly and has begun to remove the Nazi's weapons from them, tucking the small ones away. She's also taking any and all identifying marks, wallets, badges, tags. While it was ignoable, she knew, and there would be families somewhere questioning their loved one's disappearance, there were practicalities of war. When she gave the bodies to Bigby, they had to be nothing but flesh and bone. Nameless. Lost to time. So, slowly but surely, she strips them of their identities. That is where Bigby will find her when he returns.

"..Make... make sure to cover over the snow too. The blood is too obvious. I... have their things. We'll bury it further down the line." ANd probbaly keep the weapons because practicality. She stands achingly, arms half full, her right one still bleeding freely. Chances are, in this cold, she doesn't even notice it.

Bigby Wolf has posed:
"Please. Please come in. You come in now, quickly." That voice is the wife, who introduces herself as Maria. Her husband is Sergei. She deliberately does not look at the bodies, but practically drags Carter indoors, while ordering her husband to get alcohol, cloths and other items to treat the Agent's injuries if necessary.

The door shuts.

Now it's the husband that smells of fear -- of repercussions. It'd be obvious to Carter as well as Bigs -- Sergei would have to be a fool NOT to be afraid -- but even outdoors, Bigby is aware, and shaking his massive head.

He has returned to wolf form.

Whatever happens with those bodies, he never says a word -- but they disappear. The wind and snow take care of the blood. Nothing is ever found of those five Nazis. Ever.

Bigby is dressed when he finally returns to the front door.

"We... cannot thank you enough," Sergei tells Carter in Russian. "You have saved us; God be praised... and we had thought the storm worse enough."

"You must stay the night -- in the house," Maria insists, giving Bigby a slightly nervous look. She never saw the wolf, but then she never saw Bigby either, until now.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Being inside helps a lot. Peggy is about to protest the woman's assistance, but then she sees the state of her arm. She hadn't even realized she was bleeding. That is enough to jog even her stubborn mind into being cooperative, so she allows the wife to help tend to her as she murmurs to the husband in Russian, "It will be alright. My companion will make them disappear. Just forget this night happened. Never speak of it. It did not occur." Peggy repeats in firm, flat Russian. She then closes her eyes, letting her injuries be seen to as the feeling returns to her body.

Bigby's return gets a long look and a small nod of approval. She can see the nerves in the woman's eyes and she reaches one caring, reassuring hand up, "He is a good man. He saved your lives as much as I. Perhaps more. The shadows like him better. But yes, we both need rest. We shall leave before dawn, I promise." And then Peggy is gently standing, only wavering slightly, as she looks over towards Bigby and gives him a small nod of approval. There was blood on both their hands. That was nothing new, however.

Bigby Wolf has posed:
"Uhh..." the burly, now fully-bearded man in the hallway stammers to Sergei. "Much welcoming your house; I like... your woman. Please. Uh, thank you," says he in what must be described as a violation of a good, proud language.

Then glancing at Carter, Bigby shrugs helplessly and reaches for his pack of cigarettes -- while Sergei looks wide-eyed at the British agent for some clarification as to what he has just heard.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The woman gives a little groan and a roll of her eyes, unable to help but laugh, just a bit. "He says your wife is nice and thank you for the hospitality. But... we do not wish to keep you up. Let us know where is best to sleep and we'll be out of your hair. If anyone knocks in the night? You let me handle the door, yes?" Peggy offers after a moment of thought, but now that adrenaline is dying off and the worst is over, it's clear she is fading fast. She is still only human, after all. She shakes her head fondly to Bigby, though.

Bigby Wolf has posed:
Sergei looks at Peggy.

Then looks at Bigby.

One more glance at Peggy... and he shakes his head. Pointing a finger at Bigby to 'stay put', the farmer disappears for a bit, and returns with... a pair of cigars. He promptly takes away Bigs' cigarettes, sticks them in Bigs' jacket pocket, and motions to the cigar instead.

Bigs grins.

"I reckon we'll be just fine," says he as he heads off with Sergei. "Secret men's business." Maria doesn't understand the English, but she gets the message all too well. Smiling a little, she reaches out to Peggy's uninjured shoulder and remarks: "Men. Always the same. Come. Let me make for you something hot to drink; tonight, our home is your home. You can sleep in our son's old room upstairs."