Criminal Activity Will Not Be Tolerated

Who: Chevalier, Christiane, Genevieve, Henrik, Metzger (NPC), Sofia
What: Germans track down a lawbreaker
When: August, 1940

Arras
Coordinates : 16 4

A fine example of a French town, despite the signs of modern warfare with several buildings completely ruined by German bombs. One area of this block is almost completely wiped out, other areas are completely untouched and makes a stark contrast to the ruins.

It is currently night time.

Sub-Rooms :
1. Air Raid Shelter
2. Alice's Sew Shop

(From Kubelwagen #1872) With the ongoing war effort and lack of consumer gasoline avaible on the market, it was not a common to see vehicles driving down the streets of Arras. This vehicle being one of the few exceptions with it being a german military vehicle. The car can be seen in the distance driving down the road in a westward direction towards your location.

Christiane has just exited the hospital and is striding back along the street, toward the Cafe Mason. Home, to her. She's coming off her shift at the hospital. She picks up her pace as she hears the sound of the vehicle, ducking into the entryway to the cafe. Not that she goes inside just yet. She lingers outside, to watch the car.

With the german army car driving out of the setting sun, Henrik's steps bear the stonefaced swede toward the Cafe, pace paused as the car nears. Waiting briefly across the street from the Cafe Mason, he eyes the approaching car with restrained curiosity. Not feeling the need to hurry across a nazi's path today, is Henrik.

Sofia is in front of the cafe, book tucked under her arm. Sofia does not seem to mind the time, sharp green eyes narrowed slightly. Tap. Tap. Her boots hit the ground. She pauses though, seeing the car. That's unusual. The woman tilts her head, thankfully not spotting Henrik just yet.

Genevieve doesn't stay at work TOO late these days, though she's getting through the shift singing more than she is waitressing now adays. She's added at least three German songs to her usuals and seems to sing as much for the few tables of underlings she's brought in lately (Wolff's buddies, in the main) as she does the French patrons. She's just off of a shift, her pockets nicely lined with some marks given in tips. All from the Germans, of course. She's smiling wide as she pushes the door open, pulling out a cigarette for the walk home. She's also sporting a brand new pair of stokings, probably the most notable thing about this whole odd situation.

The vehicle slows down at 100m east of the cafe and a crew of four germans can be seen in the vehicle. The drive and passenger keep their eyes to the front while the two rear passengers with large flashlights shine the addresses of the buildings they pass.

Christiane steps aside when Genevieve exits the cafe, offering the woman a short, cool nod. Chrisa's manner has gotten colder and colder where Gene is concerned lately. Never outright rude, but frosty. "Madame. I trust your…friends enjoyed your…performance tonight?" But she her attention is on the vehicle and its crew, not the songstress. She squints, to try and get a better view of them, brow knitting in puzzlement.

When the car slows in the street and the lights are shined so, Henrik steps into the street to cross toward the cafe. The big man's attention is kept on the Kubelwagen and its crew, although he does look ahead in time to note the pair of frenchwomen. "Madames," he rumbles evenly in greeting with a nod to each. Belatedly, he notes the nearby sofia, and with his frown failing to thaw, he includes the german in the greeting with a curt nod.

Genevieve smiles slightly more to Christiane, "As much as they enjoyed your family's food. I would think you'd all be happy for the business." Gene responds in just as clipped tones before slipping her cigarette between her lips, "The world is changing, Christiane. If you want to survive, I suggest not holding quite so many grudges." Gene hasn't missed the cold shoulder treatment, but she's tipsy enough at the moment to also not entirely control her tongue as she has before. She nods to Henrik, grinning a bit wider, "Missed a show today, handsome. Almost had a full crowd."

And the crowd is about to get just that much more larger. As the Kubelwagen passes by the cafe the passenger in the back left seat shines the bright light towards those lingering infront of Cafe Mason. The light is shined in each of their faces as the vehicle drives by slowly.

Sofia is silent, there. She doesn't seem to notice the Frenchies, until Henrik nods at her. She seems … surprised. Blinking a few times, she simply nods back. She doesn't give much more than that. Sofia peers up, just in time to get light shone in her face. Hey!

Christiane sniffs shortly. "Change, I must accept. But I do not have to embrace it. Be careful of the company you keep, Madame d'Este." There was a hint of concern beneath the frost that time. Far beneath it. She offers Henrik a cordial nod. Even Sofia is acknowledged rather politely, when she notices the doctor. But the car, and its light, has her full attention. Particular when it flashes in her face. She raises a hand, half-offering a wave to the vehicle. "Good day." The call has a tentative sound to it.

Henrik's blue eyes narrow sharply as the light is directed upon his face. A hand is brought up to shadow his eyes from the harsh light, as his answer to either woman must be held a moment as he turns toward the damned car. It wouldnt serve to look suspicious now, would it? Sidelong, he comments flatly to Genevieve, while still eyeing the wagen, "Might still get a show, madame."

Genevieve winces just a bit at the light, but she flashes the men (probably men??) in the car a smile, giving a bit of a wave, "Gotta come by earlier tomorrow, boys, the show is over!" She laugh warmly, giving them another smile before looking back to Sofia, "That goes for you also, Madame. I'll make certain the men don't get too wild, I promise." Ahh, yes, Gene is drunk and the world is a fine, friendly, wonderful place.

"Hello," Sofia replies evenly. She is just here, silent and watching. She does tighten her grip on her book, staring a little. She's curious herself, somewhat distanced from the Frenchies around her. "I … see." She blinks at Gene, stepping back just once.

"Hault!" The passenger on the otherside of the vehicle calls out. The Kubelwagen then comes to a hault and the two germans in the front seet look back to see what the reason for the order was. The flashlight is pointed to an address directly accross the street from Cafe Mason. The four Germans then jump out from the vehicle with Kar98k rifles and look like they mean business. One who appears to be the ranking individual points to Metzger then the small crowd in front of Cafe Mason.

Christiane tenses as the Germans jump out, guns drawn. She straightens her posture, even stepping forward a little. As if bracing herself to deal with the Germans. She is silent now, lips pursed, face lined with concern she can't conceal.

Henrik turns slowly in place to face the nazis as they pile out of the vehicle. Not stepping closer, simply facing them. As Christiane takes that slight step forward, the Madame Morgenstern gets a sidelong look from the swede. His expression is the same stern frown that most would consider typical of him.

Genevieve was enjoying herself, but her easy, warm cheeked smile now slightly falters as she sees the car stopping and men getting out. She pulls out her matches, striking up a light and brushing it across the cherry of her cigarette as she attempts to keep her smile going…"Something we can do for you boys?" She asks smoothly, really desperately doing her best to keep the mood light.

Three of the soldiers travel in the direction of the otherside of the road away from Cafe Mason. Two of the soldiers point their rifles at the window and another the door. The third soldier begins pounding on the door.
Metzger being the fourth soldier walks over to the crowd at Cafe Mason peering at the civilians with a cold stare. His French is suprisingly good as he says in a demanding voice, "Papers! Show me your papers!"

Halt? Sofia tilts her head slightly. She peers at the men in the car, thoughtful. Trying to see if she recognizes any of them. She sets her arms akimbo. Hers is more curiosity than concern. She inches forward cautiously, only peeking out the side of her eyes at Henrik. Hmm. Back to the soldiers. And Metzger.

Christiane takes a breath as the soldiers fan out, nodding a little to herself, fishing into her handbag. She's accustomed to having her papers checked by now. Though the guns apparently seem a bit much to her. She hands over the papers to Metzger without complaint. "Of course, Herr. Is there something you are searching for?"

Henrik's strongly accented french is likely worse than Metzger's, and certainly more harsh than Christiane's, so while the one demands and the othr answers, Henrik mutely draws the required papers out of his shirt pocket, and opens them for inspection, expression still stoic.

Genevieve swears softly, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out her own papers. They're folded up small and flat so she can mostly keep the lines of her dress undisturbed. She unfolds them carefully and waits her turn in line. It was a long walk back to home, hopefully she'd make it in time right now. She offers her papers over, allowing that smooth smile to return again.

Sofia's own identification is produced. She is not immune it seems. The woman holds it out, to let the man check it. She smiles politely at him. "Yes, herr," She states quietly. In German.

The Germans accross the street countine to pound on the front door. The leader of the pack appears to have lost his patientce and motions for one of the rifleman to kick down the door. Three kicks later, the door is busted open and the Germans file into the building with military persision to clear it out of any trouble makers.
Still lingering on the otherside of the street is Metzger. The soldier collects up the documents Henrik, Christiane and Genevieve. With a quick glance at Sofia's ID he motions that it will not be needed. The woman's papers are looked over briefly, though he does linger on Henriks for a moment comparing the picture in the document to the man trying to ensure that it was one in the same.

Christiane pays little attention to Metzger while he examines her papers. She's watching the commotion across the street. She tenses even more, her breath catching as the rifleman kick down the door. "I…I assure you, Herr, this area of town is very quiet," she says, forcing herself to look away and back to Metzger.

Henrik matches his photgraph- a rather recent one by the close resemblance and generally decent condition of the document. Issued by the Arras records bureau, with all the proper stamps in place, it names him Henrik Svensson, swedish national, in France as a common worker. He looks past Metzger only an instant as the kicking in of the door begins, before the soldier has his attention again.

Genevieve takes a good drag of her cigarette, looking just a bit bored now. She keeps the smile in place, but her eyes do momentarily flicker at Henrik as the men's eyes linger a bit too long on those documents.

"Mm," Sofia nods as her ID is motioned away. "Thank you, herr," Sofia replies quietly and smiles at the man. She turns her attention to the men kicking in the door, squinting. She even dares to lean just a tiny bit.

Next door the house is being cleared by the three German soldiers. The sound of further doors being kicked open within the house can be heard outside on the street. Apperently they are clearing the entire house looking for something or someone.
Metzger takes the papers and folds them once over along the orginal creases and tucks them into his pants pocket as he peers about the three individuals. Looking towards Henrik and Genevieve he starts with the questioning, "What business do you have in the area? Your addresses do not place your residences on this street."

"This place-" Henrik mutters in his harsh french, noting the Cafe Mason with a short motion of his head, "Is the nearest place to get beer. Come here most days about this hour. Sooner, sometimes." The answer is given with an even voice and small shrug.

Christiane answers for Genevieve, suppressing a shudder at the sacking taking place a few doors down. "Madame d'Este works for my husband, Herr. In the cafe." She gestures to the cafe, should he require proof of its existence. "She is only now finishing her duties for the day. If we have kept her overlong, I do apologize. We try to be mindful of the curfew.

Sofia is a Na-na-nanazi, standing there. Being exciting. Not really. Either way, Sofia's getting her voyeurism on, watching all of this with her cold, intelligent demeanor.

Genevieve nods in quick affirmation, "And yes, I was going to request Monsieur Svensson to escort me home. Sometimes, if I am late, Schutze Wolff does… but his duties have kept him today." Name dropping… Maybe it will work? She puts on her biggest, most innocent eyes possible.

Metzger listens to the ramblings only for a moment before he cuts them off, "The Nazi Party will provide all that required protection you will need on the street. Further escorts will not be required for your safety." The man pauses only a moment as he peers at the three foreigners, "Where is your neighbor at the house accross the street? Herr Fronc?"
At about the time he asks the questions two rifle fire shots pierce the quiet night sourroundings. Metzger doesn't even flinch as he reconginises the sound to be German and not a foreign weapon.

Christiane does flinch, swallowing. "Monsieur Fronc?" She looks to the house across the street. Hopefully he isn't there! "I…I suppose he is still at work, Herr. I am sure he will be home before curfew. What do you want with him? He is a quiet man, does not make trouble."

7.92 mm rifle round. Henrik doesn't flinch at the gun's report, nor does he immediately answer Metzger, in the wake of the cut-off chatter of moments before. As Christiane gives her words, he looks briefly aside at the woman.

Genevieve flinches, just slightly, her concerned eyes turning in the direction of the sounds. She doesn't say anything, but it definitely jars her out of her previous thoughts and casual little smile.
Sofia does not flinch. Strange. She seems … distant. Almost used to the sound perhaps. Though, she does frown, nods and begin wandering off.

The sounds go quiet in the house accross the street after the two shots. Metzger turns his attention to Christiane, "Let me worry about why he is an interst to the Nazi Party." By the sounds of the two gun shots earlier, Metzger feels that this line of questions is now probably irrelevant. His changes course now asking, "When was the last time any of you saw Mr. Fronc?"

Unless she is stopped, Sofia is wandering off and away. She doesn't seem to indicate that she knows the man at all. Then again, Sofia is likely limited in her choice of Frenchie interaction.

Metzger doesn't stop Sofia since she is German citizen.

Sofia is indeed, German citizen. Hear her roar! Or something. Either way, she waves politely and vanishes into the … horizon. Thingy. She's gone.

Christiane swallows before answering Metzger. "This…this morning, I suppose. When I was on my way to the hospital. I was not really paying attention. I assure you, Herr, Monsieur Fronc has done nothing wrong."

Henrik answers in a short rumble, "Don't know him," on the subject of Mr. Fronc.

Genevieve is dead quiet now, her eyes staring mainly at the house across the street. She shakes her head slowly, "I…saw them in the cafe' once or twice, that is all.. not today." She's quieter now, most of the flirting gone. Damned wine is wearing off. She needs a drink and she needs one fast.

Metzger reaches into his pants pocket and returns Christiane's paper to her. Still the man holds onto the other two papers. "If he had done nothing wrong, I am sure those shots were just my imagination. You are dismissed." The man then looks towards Genevieve and Henrik thinking for a moment before returning their papers to them as well.
At about this time the sounds of forunature being turned over can be heard from within side Mr. Fronc's residence. And two Germans appear out the front door carrying a nearly dead or dead Mr. Fronc. The body is heaved and tossed ontop of the vehicles front end.

Christiane takes her papers and turns to go back inside. But she does not quite turn in time to miss the sight of Mr. Fronc. Her breath catches and she lets out an involuntary gasp. Unable to hide her horror. She lowers her gaze, closing her eyes. To keep her expression from the Germans. And to hold back any tears. But she does eventually turn completely away and retreat back inside the cafe.

Genevieve stares at the vehicle and the body, only a few feet away now. She is silent for several heartbeats before nodding slowly and giving the men a slight smile, "…Keeping our town safe. It's good to see the… dangerous men are being taken care of. If you gentlemen come to the cafe, your first drink will be on me." Gene states, her voice quiet and dead serious.

Henrik accepts his own papers back, tucking them into his breat pocket, at about the time that Monsieur Fronc is evicted so bloodily. A short look aside at the vehicle and its dead or dying load, before returning to Metzger. He waits silently for dismissal.

Chevalier arrives from the West.

Metzger sees the attention of the Frenchwoman and the Swede turn towards the vehicle. Ignoring the Frenchwoman's offer of free drinks, his gaze shifts in that direction as well. There is no need for further questioning at the moment and the papers are returned to each of them. "Criminal activity will not be tolerated within Arras. The laws established by the provisional goverment are set for your safety. When those laws are broken, the public is placed at risk. Ensure that you stay well clear of such activities and report them immediently or you will be sure to suffer the same fate as Mr. Fronc." With that, Metzger slings his rifle accross his shoulder and chest and begins to head towards the vehicle.

Genevieve nods curtly in Metzger's direction, "Yes, sir. I wouldn't think otherwise." She responds flat and firm, before stepping back and folding her papers back up so she can slip them into her back pocket. She carefully does her best to look anywhere but the body. Seemingly supportive of the actions or not, Gene doesn't enjoy looking upon death.

Chevalier emerges from between some buildings as Metzger makes his way to the vehicle.

Henrik mutters wordlessly along with the curt nod he gives Metzger as the german soldier turns away. Noting Christiane's withdrawal, he eyes Genevieve briefly, expression still impassive.

Metzger looks over the body briefly and mutters something to the other soldiers and motions for them back down the road. The Kubelwagen is fired up and the two Germans drive the body down the street and they disappear down a bend in the road. Metzger heads into the house to help the 4th German soldier search through the house for whatever they are looking for.

Genevieve's eyes flicker to Henrik and now, for just a moment, as the German's are gone… she looks a touch sick. "I suppose I should be… getting home. Be safe, Henrik…" She murmurs quietly, watching him for a heartbeat longer before turning on the ball of her foot and heading quietly for the north street.

Chevalier moves further out onto the sidewalk across the street from where Henrik is standing. He just stands there taking in the scene, mostly eyeing Henrik.

Henrik nods once to Genevieve's words, turning away in time to catch sight of Chevalier. With the hour getting late and Christiane having closed the Cafe, Henrik directs his steps across the street toward Chevalier, who is greeted with an evenly voiced, "Monsieur."

Chevalier offers a nod and says in return "Good evening Monsieur Svensson." although his gaze is on the Mr. Fronc's house.

Genevieve is headed off, it seems. She silently disappears across the street and heads for the north.

Henrik doesn't look back across the street at the house with its kicked-in door. "You know a man named Fronc?" he asks Chevalier curtly. Whatever the answer, he voices evenly, "Broke laws. Shot twice. Fascists searched house, took body."

Chevalier purses his lips, "Knew of him, never met really. I'm curious what laws did he break? They must have been very severe laws to warrant being shot as opposed to arrested.

"They didn't say," Henrik answers colorlessly. "They're still checking papers. Asking questions. Nothing new." Turning a slow look about him at the vacated street, he looks back to Chevalier and lowers his voice to ask, "You still giving an ear to the west?"

Chevalier checks his pocket watch then still not looking at Henrik, "I am." he says to the question. "It is late, I will see you out tomorrow and we can discuss the western sunset in more detail." He then simply walks away towards the north.

Henrik echoes with a snort, "'Western sunset'. Goddamn pompous french bourgeoisie," as Chevalier withdraws. Not looking back, the swede's steps once again bear him south toward the waterfront.

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