BERLIN, GERMANY
-1945-
-1200 HOURS-

All had been quiet for some time upon the tattered and tarnished streets of once mighty Berlin, a ghost town that was once the lively and forever thriving symbol of prominence and power to the Nazis, and now here it lie in ruin, its buildings of stone and brick that housed the very backbone of Hitler's oppressive empire now skeletons of their former selves, the framework somehow surviving the constant bombing raids of the Brits and the Yankees, and now the continuous bombardment of artillery fire from the glorious Red Army, Stalin's equally oppressive offense in full swing. Twas above these casualties of the second Great War that she had made her nest, the angel of death who struck from the heavens above with such rancor, such malice, and such efficiency. "S nami bog." She would say to herself in a frail whisper, but judging the grim silence of this dying city, devoid of any civilian life, she was sure someone could've heard her. Luckily no. In the belfry of the old church, Nadiya sat her vantage point, a perfect overlook of a nice stretch of city street. In her accustomed prone, she awaited any targets of value to tarry aimlessly down this very road, where they would be met by her bullet, either to the head or the center of mass. 

But there was sort of a drawback to her elevation, a bit of a crosswind blowing from north to south, with her facing east. The wind, just by guestimation, had to be traveling at possibly 8 or 9 kilometers per hour, not much, but enough for her to have to compensate for it, not to mention the slightly lower muzzle velocity of her rifle, the Red Army's favored Mosin Nagant. At her distance from the road, she would possibly have to aim two notches or so above the head, but the higher elevation should also benefit the bullet drop. While she focused in through her rifle's scope, the blonde Russian could hear the cantankerous clatter of gunfire pattering off far away. Her comrades had already begun the assault, and now Hitler's SS, which the coward so foolishly hid behind, would face the crushing might of Mother Russia's war machine. It almost brought a smile to Nadiya's face to imagine the heroic Red Army pushing forward through the gates of Berlin, under their feet the corpses of slain Nazis and Germans alike they trampled. What patriotism the very visage held to the devout of Stalin, but Nadiya's smile however cringed at the distant roar behind her, ever growing closer. [i]Damn! A bomber![/i]

Suddenly, the large bird of steel soared overhead, but its payload was less than lethal as Nadiya had witnessed. [i]What the hell is this?[/i] She wondered, observing with a dumbfound expression hung on her face as several....leaflets fell from the bomb-bay doors of the battered Junkers Ju 88, flying close enough for the Russian to even see the pilot and his wingman before the bomber disappeared from her, the drone of its twin engines becoming distant by the second, and the sleek but powerful frame of the aircraft...merely a blur of black against the smoke-hazed horizon. [i]Mhmm....[/i] Nadiya's eyes scanned about the tiny shred of the Fuhrer's last ditch propaganda, noticing that it was not Herr Hitler himself upon it as usual, but rather...a German Solider, and a rather striking one at that. He had definitely fit the description for the Aryan Race, blonde hair, as soft and pale as a horse's mane, and those eyes, deep and blue. If it were not for the [i]suka[/i] being a Jerry, Nadiya would be rather smitten. She wondered, was this man a hero to the Nazis? If so, then it would be quite the honor of Nadiya to dispatch him. Crushing the leaflet in her leather gloved hand, and tossing it aside, she returned to her rifle, just in time as she heard the firefight's telltale resonance of small arms....moving closer to her position.