The sun rises above a snowy, crumbling wasteland of ruined buildings as smoke drifts lazily across the city. Already there is the distant sound of opportunistic gunfire. Fyodor and Snezhana wait in the wreckage, their sights trained upon the enemy hunter’s positions.
Sepp and Friedrich wait also, their sights fixed on the positions across the blocked roadway, waiting for the movement that will deliver death.
A dark figure passes between both sides’ gunsights, walking, stumbling almost, across the rubble strewn street. He seems to flicker slightly in the hazy morning light, one second there the next not. He carries a slumped form in his arms, wrapped in a grey greatcoat; the bundle does not flicker.
The hidden soldiers follow the man with their sights as, in the distance, the sound of approaching fighter-bombers rises above the almost still morning.
The figure in the roadway pauses, and the frosty light dances across a darkly metallic face gazing upwards towards the approaching planes. The figure turns hastily and a blast of bright flame pushes aside a wrecked Panzer III, searing an afterimage on the sniper’s eyes. When their eyesight returns the man is gone.
The hidden snipers, temporarily bemused, dive for better cover as the bombers descend, screaming a banshee’s wail, the enemy forgotten for the moment in a storm of thunder and flame.
(Players will set the tone/feel of the scenario)
Tags: Stalingrad, Snipers, Ideological Clashes, The Enemy of My Enemy