[center][h3][color=fff79a]Chloe Bridgette Cakebread-Yonaka[/color][/h3][/center] 

	Somewhere, a violin sings a sweet, sad song.

	Chloe's eyes flash open and she snaps back to the world of the living. They scan the environment wildly, and her brain screeches back into gear as she remembers who she is and what she is doing. Her arm clutches at her shoulder, but the wound is gone. All healed up, like it wasn't even there. Her shoulder is a bit less muscular than she remembered but it's a small price to pay for not dying. That must have been what that little Stand Taras had could do. Heal people? She wasn't dead! 

	She wasn't dead, and she could still fight. Her face was pale and her energy was sapped, but her mental fortitude was as strong as ever. She extended a hand upward and Ritz, that behemoth wooden, brass, and porcelain doll that had been there all her life, materialized and hoisted her to feet. The smile returned to Chloe's lips. She knew what she had to do. 

	Chloe turned and looked to the fort, hidden behind trees. Somewhere, a sniper was watching. She was mostly likely already in that nazi bastard's side.

	[color=fff79a]"Go on, Ritz. Gimme Winston." [/color] Chloe asked of her stand quietly, voice ragged, smile weak but genuine. Quickly, Ritz used it's long arms to unhook the smoke bomb disk from the gramophone and slot another inside. Before her, materialising from static, a Churchill tank hummed to life. Ritz walked behind it, having to crouch down in order to be comfortably concealed behind the tanks body. It thrummed to life and began to tread forward, making steady progress toward her destination. Ritz began to hum a little melody, it's voice warm, analogue, distant. 

	Tupolev had just been caught by a net. The enemy had laid out devious traps, it seemed. No worries, Chloe thought, leaning on the tank for support. She just had to line this up right. Fortunately, Puttin' on the Ritz was a fairly precise Stand, and she had a lot of practice back in training with aiming her discs. With a satisfying wooden clunk, Ritz removed the steel plate disc from the storage device mounted in her back. 

	It stepped out from behind the tank and threw it like a frisbree with speed and precision.[color=fff79a][b] "Don't move, comrade!"[/b][/color] Ritz called out in a terrible Russian accent, breaking away from it's song. It sounded just like Chloe, but a recording of Chloe. The actual Chloe snickered to herself from behind her tank, pleased with herself. Chloe owed Tupolev everything at this moment- the least she could do was repay him by making sure he didn't catch a bullet.

	The disc zoomed through the air where it snapped and shattered against the wire keeping Tupolev suspended. The wire was cut, but the disc broke in the process, which was Yonaka's plan. Materializing in the air was a free and half foot tall, five feet wide reinforced metal plate that looked like it belonged on the side of a troop transport. Gravity pulled it downward, but since it was recorded to be buried in the ground, it remained steadfast and upright as it plummeted down along with the unlucky Russian caught in the devious, gruesome trap. 

	It slammed into the ground, still upright, cutting through some of the looser parts of the net as it did so. It was heavily bullet resistant and would give Tupolev ample cover to cut himself free of any already damaged net. The tank continued it's advance. As it did so, it began to blindly spray pre-recorded bullets into the tree line. 

	[color=fff79a][b]"Sorry, Lilliane,"[/b][/color] Ritz apologised with a cheeky grin, turning away from Tupolev to glance at the french woman. [color=fff79a][b]"But I'm guessin' our cover was already blown, yeah?" [/b][/color] The seven foot tall behemoth of a Stand shrugged, and then frowned as it began to concentrate on the battle ahead. Chloe, in her weakened state, was utilizing the booming potential of her Stand's voice to broadcast it's staticky message across the cacophany of battle. No doubt, though, the Stand shared the same mannerisms as it's user, who walked behind the tank with one hand on it's rear, whipping her head back and forth.

	With that, the steel barrier was removed from her arsenal, but she could always record something else in it's stead. Besides, the last thing they needed was more people taking a bullet. Kiara seemed to have not done so well, but she was outside of Ritz' range to help. Hopefully she would be okay- she was the only one that didn't seem to mind Chloe's company. 

	Overall, Chloe was just happy to be alive and be back in the fight. While she did not partake in happiness from suffering, or violence, like everyone she enjoyed victory. She thought she would have to retire from being a soldier, which would probably ruin her life. Of course, Chloe came much closer to death than she realised. Either way, it was good to know she wouldn't be going home. Not yet. 

	The british woman had surmised that they were going up against a Stand that aided it's user in firing bullets. No one could have hit that shot through the smoke without being able to see through it. It was a single, precise shot. Not the surpressive fire of an entire squad. Had that been the case, Chloe would have summoned the barrier infront of herself and taken cover. The tank wouldn't be as useful if they were being surrounded by an enemy gun team, since it always trudged forward. Not to mention anti-tank weaponry could still destroy the projection and damage people around and near it. But, against a single sniper position with anti-personnel traps? The way she saw it, it was their best shot. Whatever the others had, they clearly didn't have a Stand capable of effeciently defending themselves from the devious traps that sniper twat had set up. So it was up to the wounded Chloe to push forward. 

	[color=fff79a][color=fff79a][b]"We're pushin' up!"[/b] [/color][/color] Ritz called out, her fist enthusiastically pounding on the Churchill's steel surface.