2634/Victory in Europe

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Victory in Europe
Date of Scene: 26 July 2020
Location: Sachsenhausen, German
Synopsis: Peggy Carter and Lucky Logan deal with the events of May 8 1945. The war is over, and while there is work left to do. They speak about the future. In particular, the broach the subject of what Peggy should do as a woman in a man's military. Finally, they agree to arrange some unfortunate 'accidents' for some of the Hydra scientists being smuggled back to the States. Smokes and hip flask booze are shared. Secrets are shared.
Cast of Characters: Logan Howlett, Peggy Carter




Logan Howlett has posed:
Tuesday, 8 May 1945. The former concentration camp in Sachsenhausen has been converted to a field office for the allies as a staging point for operations into Berlin. It has been a very busy time for the Howling Commandos. Hydra scientists flee the failing German fascist government. Operations have taken a turn from critical military targets toward making sure the most villainous figures of the war do not escape justice.

At least that's the official line. In truth, some of these scientists are viewed as valuable assets for the predicted conflict with the Soviet Union. It's a gold rush on Hydra secrets, but the soldiers don't need to know that.

Logan Howlett, the Canadian volunteer, drags a man in a filthy lab coat through the muck. The runt's battle dress uniform is soaked and caked with mud, but he doesn't care. He grabs the scientist by the scalp and shoves the man's face into the wet soil. "You taste that, bub? You taste that suffering? You taste what you did here?"

Logan yanks the man back to his feet as he draws a boot knife and pushes the tip of under the Hydra scientist's chin. "I should give you a taste of your own medicine. Carve you put piece by piece." He pauses, "But I won't... Because we aren't like you."

Logan resumes dragging the man between field tents as he makes way toward a makeshift brig. He calls out, "CARTER! We got him. Right where you said he'd be."

Peggy Carter has posed:
It takes a second call of her name for him to get her out of the big command tent. The make-shift field base around them is suspiciously... Quiet. There's the usual security patrols, but other than that, not a single person is outside of the tents. There isn't even anyone smoking or a dice game going on. His sharpened hearing can catch the crackle and mutter of several radios going at once, all tuned to the same broadcast, but most of the worst are absorbed by the amount of bodies around them.

Peggy's in uniform, of course, having been working all the day and trying to focus the last few recovery operations they were doing in this section of the country. Olive skirt, neatly buttoned olive jacket, her pips and all in place. She's gotten very good at walking across soft grass in high heels, so even they don't sink down into the soil as she moves towards him. But there is a strange look on her face. Shock. For once, probably the first time since Logan has met her, she looks... Shocked.

"Good. Good. I figured he would be. We've... got a... brig tent set up, guards are ready. You can... we can interrogate him... Later..." She's actually a bit unfocused, but as the realization that she needs to *work* comes, she snaps to and begins leading the direction to the make shift brig that she's had ready to go since she set him out ont he retrieval.

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan's brow knits a little as we starts to notice the mood is very different in the camp. His head tilts in concern at the shocked expression on Peggy's features. He jerks the scientist along who is doing his best not to sob having just been threatened with a knife. "Uh.. everything okay, ma'am?"

He raises a thick eyebrow to accentuate the question. Logan looks rougher than usual. He needs a good trim along his chops. His helmet hides how the mess on his scalp. With a final tug and shove, the scientist is launched toward the waiting guards who catch him with grim determination and drag him into the brig tent.

Logan unhooks a canteen from his belt and takes a sip before splashing his face. He blinks and gasps then stares at Peggy. "Alright, out with it? What's happenin' now? Another Hydra super weapon? Has Stalin made his move? Not like you to be surprised."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The toss of the prisoner into the guards gets a look from her. Not because she's angry at Logan, but because she knows he's probably going to be smuggled back to the US. That this one might get free. For a long moment, she stares back at the man, the contemplation behind her eyes something Logan has seen before. The times she agreed with him that maybe an unfortunate accident wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to some of these scientists.

But he's asking her questions. The strange, surreal feeling of the entire day is still there and her friend (and soldier) is asking questions. She nods for him to walk with her, so they are away from the prisoner's ears, at least. When they're halfway between the main command tent and the brig, it finally just spills from her carefully painted lips. "...It's over. The Germans surrendered. Officially. They're announcing victory... now. They're deep into the speeches but... It... it's over, Logan. We won." They knew it was coming, the writing was on the wall, but this is different. Being reality is still somewhat shocking.

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan casts one parting look of disdain and outright hatred toward the scientist before he disappears behind canvas panels. He follows the head nod and begins walking with her. He leans in close, less out familiarity, and more out of habit, there had been more than one cause for a conspiratorial whispers between the pair.

Once he gets his answer, he blinks at her in stunned silence. They'd both fought this war since the inception, and now they'd survived to see the end of it. He then starts laughing. Its an expression of complex emotions. This was his second world war. Joy mixes with trama and regret for those who couldn't see this day. He closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath and then pulls Peggy into a hug that lifts her off the soft ground and spins her around. "We did it! We really fuckin' did it! God yes."

Peggy Carter has posed:
While she'd never publicly admit they were close -- fraternization was strictly frowned upon and she'd learned her lessons -- he was probably the closest thing she had to a real friend. One that did make it the whole way through. There had been some handshakes inside, at least one unwisely stolen kiss, cheering, but nothing like this. Not the soul crushing sort of hug that helps bring all those emotions that are on the outside, spacey and surreal, back into her chest. It's a hug that helps her remember to breathe at the same time making it hard to do so. She laughs a little against his throat, her slender arms going around his neck and returning the embrace as tightly as she can, even as her feet leave the ground. There's a bit of a crackle to her laugh, tears that she won't let herself cry but are there.

"We... we did. I mean, I knew... We... We thought. It was going to... but... God, Logan, we did it. It's... over..." Her arms tighten against his shoulders a heartbeat longer and she presses her eyes shut hard against those tears, though he might feel a trace of moisture against his neck. She has no care for how rough he is or smells right now. They'd lost so many. She wasn't letting go of this hug.

Logan Howlett has posed:
Where Peggy cared about appearances, Logan rarely cared. He only cared if caused trouble for his friends, and that's probably the one reason the rough Canadian had been kept in line.

He continues the spin and allows the hug to linger. Tears form in the corners of his own eyes. The ever grumpy soldier's steel veneer has cracked. He finally settles her back on the ground but continues the embrace. There's no outward cry, but there's a shared moment for the lost. The bittersweet joy of knowing that lives lost had meant something. Nothing honors a grave better than a victory wreath.

As the moment passes, he slowly softens his hold on her and rubs her back. When Peggy is done with the hug, he'll snap her a salute. "Apologies for the outburst, ma'am." The chuckle in his voice betrays the lack of sincerity in the apology.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The fact that most of the camp was completely lost in the radios was the only reason they got a way with a hug that long, but Peggy doesn't rush it. She needs the moments to gather herself back up and make certain absolutely *no one* actually sees her crying. Ice Cold Carter has a reputation to maintain, after all, as one of the only women who managed to not only remain in the field, but keep respect of all the men who work with her. As their arms draw away, her fingertips linger against his shoulder, giving a small squeeze and the littlest breath of relief. Almost a laugh.

His salute gets a grime, more stern expression from her which absolutely doesn't manage to hide her own smirk, "Yes, of course, Howlett. All things considered, I think this little show doesn't need to go into the permanent record. No one would believe it beside all the mouthing off, disregard of orders..." Of course, only stupid orders. Often ones Peggy didn't want to give, "And highly dangerous field decisions you've made." She winks at him teasingly, returning the salute, but there is a glimmer of something strange behind her eyes.

"You... don't have a cigarette hidden in there, do you?" She asks with that strange little laugh, most of her still piecing through the shock. "... You know, I am... overjoyed. There's so many people I want to tell, to hug...to scream with who... Who aren't here any more. But... hell, Logan, I... I have no clue what I do after this." She was a woman. Would she just go back to being a secretary? "I somehow doubt my experience here is going to win me points with anyone back in the city..."

Logan Howlett has posed:
Does Logan have cigarettes? She knew it was a ridiculous question. He reaches into a pouch and pulls out a box of Lucky Strike cigarette rations. He offers one to the woman and pulls a zippo-like Austrian cigarette lighter that was 'salvaged from the field'. He strikes a flame and waits for her to light up before doing the same for himself.

He puffs and considers her question, offering her a grim frown. "Come on, Carter. It's over.. but it also ain't over. You beat down one evil, another one takes its place. People like us.. we slip in a normal life where we can before we pick the sword back up."

He inhales deeply and then exhales a cloud to the side. "Hydra has gone to ground, its not dead. Somewhere, the next Hitler is schemin'. Hell, might be the Ruskies just on the other side of Berlin."

He eyes her for a moment and whispers, "You'd make someone a gorgeous wife, but if the domestic life ain't what you want... then go career."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Peggy almost never smokes. There was one other time before, incredibly late at night after a mission which went extra sideways, where they were sharing a bit of stolen whiskey. She'd stolen one off of him then, but normally she leaves them for the boys. Now, she takes a deep, long drag of the harsh smoke, slightly coughing on it but going back for more a heartbeat later. His commentary gets a slow nod as she tucks her free hand beneath the elbow of the one she's using to smoke. She's staring to pace now, the usual motions for when she's thinking.

"...Unless they recall us, we have at least one more assignment for a rat to dig up before he runs. But you're right. There's... still a long list of names and a lot of these assholes who are roaming free. They better let us finish the clean up, even if it's another year or two." Or ten. Twenty. How little she knows...

Then he makes a comment about her being a wife and her brown eyes jerk up to him. She just stares, wondering who has taken over Logan's body. "...Logan... do you really think I could stand domestic life for longer than five hours? I'd go... insane." She gives a little, sardonic laugh, "Tried it once. Almost. It... it's just not my style. I'm here as long as the general will have me. And then some."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Hey, I just call 'em, like I see 'em. You are a looker with a brain. All said, I didn't expect you to go back to civilian life. You've got the same curse as me, ma'am. We are good at this... Too good. That makes it hard to walk away from. Even harder if the person who takes over for ya isn't half as talented as you are." He guffaws, "So, I think we are both stuck fightin' the good fight until the fight ain't in us anymore."

He takes another puff and raises an eyebrow at her, "As long as the general will have you... Hun, I'm sure he's gonna earn a star or two from you. The things we and the other commandos accomplished. While the public may never know, the brass does. Hell, they'll want you around just to keep an eye on you."

Peggy Carter has posed:
That makes her smirk, but the warmth in her eyes is enough to say that his words do help. It's been a bit hard being the old girl around, fighting tooth and nail just to be able to keep out in the command tents, much less the very few times she got into the field with them. "You keep that up, it's gonna go to my head, Howlett. I'll think you're sweet talking me." She gently chides him, all teasing in her clipped, tired voice. She takes another long drag of her cigarette, a bit more used to the burn a few puffs in.

"...I should let you get inside. Hear the end of the broadcast, at least. Churchhill was talking the last I was inside. General...plans for the future. Reassurances about all the good work everyone did." She falls quiet for a moment, some realization coming to her. "...they'll be able to keep the lights on in London tonight... the first time in... Years. There won't be a blackout." Unless he's making a motion to go into the tent, to get to the radios, she sinks down to sit on a few sandbags. At least they can celebrate with cigarettes before going back in. It's like someone cut her puppet strings in relief. He was the last one she needed to tell.

Logan Howlett has posed:
"I'm catchin' a little bit of it standin' here." He sits down on the sand-bags next to her. Tucking the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, he takes the back end of his knife and starts raking mud off his pant legs and boots. "And I don't really need to hear that asshole congratulate anyone from the island."

Logan is perhaps a little more worldly than most, and the plight of the Bengali isn't lost on him. Having always had some kind of problem with authority, he's usually one of the first to pick out their shortcomings. "I'm fightin' to stop sufferin'. Not for that..." He murmurs a string of insults that involve lard and other less flattering aspects.

He takes another puff and eyes her, "Not that... I said any of that." He grins and nods reaching into another pocket to produce a hip flask. He uncaps it and takes a pull of schnaps. More salvage from the war. He raises it in toast, "To London."

Peggy Carter has posed:
As he settles there, Peggy leans just abit to the side against him. She's going to end up with mud on her, mussing that perfect uniform she tries to keep in tact for every time they're coming home. She has the privilege of being stuck in the tent, should at least make certain she's a sight for sore eyes when they drag back inside, covered in mud and half freezing. She doesn't care tonight. Just leaning against his warmth was an echo of that earlier hug, and they both deserved some hint of comfort in celebration.

"You're damn well lucky I'm off duty, talking like that. Not that the general hasn't heard it from you either." That still makes her crack a grin. If one were to guess, they might say she's fond of his penchant to mouth off. "You're going to have to be a hell of a sight more careful if I get transferred, or you do. Not everyone's going to clean up after that temper of yours. How will they know that you've secretly got a heart of gold beneath the bear rug you call body hair and all that cursing?" She winks at him as she reaches over to steal the schnapps from him, echoing his toast. "To the allies. Even *Canada* was a big part of this mess. You know, I heard they sent over a solider or two to help." She flashes him a grin that is almost saucy. "I hear Canadians are incredibly nice and polite... Just over all gentle, sweet chaps."

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan doesn't seem to mind. Some sense of companionship has been an important asset during this war. It kept him from losing himself in the violence, reminded him of the cause. Peggy had been his conscience more than once in the conflict.

"Eh, if I get transferred or you get transferred. I'll give 'em one shot and then I'm probably quittin'. One way or another." He lets her steal some of the schnaps and then takes it back for another pull before he tucks it away. "The next handler prolly won't have the same hallucinations as you. They'll see me for the true ass I am and make it uncomfortable for me."

He rolls his eyes at her and points a finger. "People only say that cause they compare other Canadians to me. I make the rest of them look good." He nods sagely and puffs again. "Shit.. This is weird. I always forget how one piece of paper signed by two officers who've probably barely held a rifle can completely change or end a war. I'm gonna have to be extra tough on the new few people we bag. Before ya know it, we'll be defendin' their rights again and have forgotten about all the atrocities."

There's another release of smoke, and then he stares at Peggy. "So.. how we gonna get you promoted? What's next?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
Silence lingers for a long moment, though she doesn't answer the most important question. Peggy probably doesn't even know that answer yet, really. She just stares down at the cigarette in her hands, that familiar smirk lingering on her still somewhat painted lips. "Oh, I know you're an asshole. You're just a useful one. And you made at least one amusing joke in 1944, so, that's one more point in your favor." She bumps her shoulder against his, finally daring to meet his eyes again. It wasn't goodbye. They both had work to do, more missions... But somehow, it felt like a goodbye.

"I don't think they exactly...promote women. They tell us thank you and maybe give a little bonus cheque if we're lucky. I'm sure the SSR will have... Some... position for me. Senior secretary, somewhere. But that's for a few months now. Unless they stop us from cleaning out the last intelligence we have, then I'll go rogue with the lot of you and we'll do it ourselves."

She frowns a longer moment, looking up towards the brig down the row of tents, where they dropped off his most recent capture. "The orders on that one was to keep him in tact." She reminded him of that multiple times before he went out. "I...am pretty sure they want to smuggle him to the US. There's going to be more and more of that, now that it's over. If a scientist is captured... they're going to see them as assets, not atrocities." There is an edge of anger to her voice about that. "Especially as they finish negotiating the surrender and... fall out of everything."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Knew I was good for something." He chuckles lowly and scrapes his knife off on the sand-bag before slipping it back into a boot sheath. He sighs deeply and scratches his cheek. "Don't give me that defeatist bullshit. Make them promote you. Take those skills you honed on the Germans and apply them back at home."

He turns and pushes his finger into her shoulder, poking her as he makes his point. "Lie and cheat, if you have to. Blackmail 'em. If you've got to be a senior secretary, then you better tie your CO up in strings and turn him into a puppet."

Leaning forward, he meets her eye to eye. "You owe it to us. That head on your shoulders saves lives. You might spend us like currency, but we all know you've gotten the biggest bang for the buck. If you bury that talent, just because you were born with tits. I'll never forgive you."

He leans back and huffs, genuinely angry and frustrated. The bit about the scientists doesn't surprise him too much. "I figured that was the case when they stopped sending us out with body bags. Might have to visit the Yanks.. for some R&R when this is all over."

His eyes narrow, "Be lookin' for you to tell me where... accidents... should happen in the next few months."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The pep talk is surprisingly earnest, but maybe also needed. Peggy stares quietly at him as he says things that many think, but he dares to level it to her face. The puppet comment gets a wry half of a grin and she rolls her dark eyes to the sky, "...that... was rather the plan, in truth. Don't tell anyone." She mutters to him. She's been thinking about it a lot, it's just strange now that it's here.

Then his gruff voice gets a bit softer. He dares to say the one thing that they've implied but never *really* spoke out lout before. Now the war is over. They are out of time to clean up the worst 'assests' they'll pick up. Peggy goes dead quiet for a heartbeat or two, staring into the mud as they consider what actually amounts to treason. Treason for the right reasons.

She leans over closer to him, her nose against the scruff of his jaw. If anyone say, they'd probably think the two were finally necking. That's probably her plan. Finally, she whispers, her voice so low it's almost a lover's tone, strictly meant for his ears and no one else, her mouth hidden on him so no one can even read her lips. "...This one can pass, but the one we go for next week, Heinrich Shultz? He... should have an accident. If I ever hand you a file and the name is underlined?... know that their freedom isn't worth the atrocities they committed. Do with that what you will..."

She lets those uncomfortable words hang between them a moment or two as she pulls back and meet his eyes. The gaze is a promise between them. A seal that they'll never talk about this again but they both know. And then, suddenly, she cracks into a too-easy smile, as if it never happened. "But come on, there's better things than schnapps inside. Let's go celebrate, we both bloody well earned it!" Those last words are a show. The things she's supposed to say. The normal things they do. The joy hides the next mission they both quietly decided. And it's a good cover.