Chapter Two, Part Twenty 10.31pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Left Luggage Area, Geneva Central Station As if a Viking of old defending Stamford Bridge against the avenging Saxon horde,
von Fersen stands before Smith’s unconscious form keeping the onrushing Germans at bay. He regains his footing and swiftly opens his umbrella in the dehelmeted German’s face, but, unfortunately, to no effect. Mildly irritated, the valiant Swede thrusts the umbrellablade at the poor fellow’s throat! The German knocks the blow aside, throwing von Fersen to the floor! He seems to know some form of esoteric foreign martial art!
The affronted German then turns his attention to
the German gentleman “G”, and boxes him about the face. He lands a blow on his chin! “G” is also knocked to the floor!
Seeing the German next to the man who knocked him down about to raise his revolver to shoot again, “G” fears for the safety of his unconscious companion, and, vowing to protect Smith in any way possible, rolls over onto his defenceless body to do so! The German unloads his revolver at the space “G” just left, peppering the floor with bullets: “G” has heroically saved both his and Smith’s lives! Invigorated with the strength of manly heroism, “G” leaps back to his feet, and smashes the German in the face with his rifle butt. The German blocks with his hands! The two men grapple together, desperately trying to wrestle the gun from the other.
The German wins! He snatches “G”’s precious rifle and smacks “G” to the ground: he aims it at his chest!
“Hände hoch!” This loud shout and, undoubtedly, the prior impact of the fully grown “G” all but leaping onto his back, wakes
Smith from his relaxing nap: he rises bewilderedly to his feet, and strolls off to search for his walking
bat stick under the bemused eye of the rifle-wielding German, who is too busy pointing the rifle at “G” and von Fersen to stop the American. Smith sees his walking
bat stick under the foot of one of the Germans confronting Mr Wellington, and casually walks over to pick it up. He yanks it with the terrifying force one tends to reserve for the protection of one’s loved ones: the German crashes to the ground! He lands with a tremendous impact! His liver is bruised! His spine is crushed! His brain is broken! His face is disfigured! He is struck down!
Smith takes a moment to inspect his walking
bat stick for damage: there appears to be a slight scratch on one end! He suffers a brief descent into vulgarity!
“Blast!” Thanks to Smith, there is now but one German left fighting
Mr Wellington, who, having just jumped back to his feet, advances once more to engage the Englishman with his fists. He lands a blow to Wellington’s chest; he strikes at his face. Wellington takes the blow to his chest like a man and parries the strike to his face like a master of Top Hat Fu, nearly knocking the German off balance, though neither man gains the upper hand.
Next to Wellington,
McGeenyton offers his German foe the chance to surrender, and to drink some tea. Although he's not terribly keen on surrender as an idea at this particular moment, he does take up the offer of a cup of tea; McGeenyton and the German wander out of the left luggage area through the blasted breach in the station wall, and McGeenyton attempts to summon a butler with a light tinkle of his bell.
“I say,” says McGeenyton, “I dare say it won't take a minute. Some gentlemen I know have noticed a marked decrease in the performance of butlers over the last few years, but mine's a marvelous chap. Now, I suppose one should find a table and chairs before he gets here, what?”
… … … … … ...
As the melee seems to reach the beginnings of an unfortunate end, with two gentleman spies seemingly captured on the floor and another politely engaged in the consumption of tea - although one should also point out, to the spies' advantage, there is an angry Smith on the rampage absentmindedly felling the Hun left and right - the door through which the Germans recently burst bursts open a second time. An imposing and well dressed man strolls through, wearing a black top hat and holding an elaborately decorated cane. He is flanked by two further Germans: when he turns to look Smith recognises one of them as the shifty looking fellow he saw earlier at the station.
“Stop!” the newcomer shouts, in a naturally commanding voice. The Germans all turn to look.
“Stop! Stop this nonsense! Gentlemen,” he says, turning to the group of gentleman spies and their German foes, “This is a disgraceful scene! Surely we can settle this like gentlemen? Surely this disagreement can be settled like the men of noble birth that we are? Surely one of you would be prepared to fight me in an honourable duel to decide who makes off with the dispatch case that you surely desire as much as I? What do you say? Who amongst you is man enough to fight me one on one? You may choose any weapon you wish, I am not afraid!”
Von Fersen won initiative but then got yet another [1], after the umbrella opening [2]. He is surely due a [6]!!
The German hit “G” on a [5], who didn’t dodge on a [2], and the wound roll was a [4].
When the next German tried to shoot “G” he dodged / protected / rolled onto Smith on a [6], but then rolled [1] to hit the German and then lost the opposing roll [2 vs 5] and was thus disarmed. Whoops.
Smith rolled [6], and then a [5+1 bonus] for damage: a cold-blooded killer even when he doesn’t mean to be.
Wellington and the German rolled a bunch of inconclusive [2]s and [3]s.
McGeenyton rolled [1] for initiative, and then a [4].
Von Fersen and “G” are by the door, on the ground. Between them and the door are two Germans – one has fists, the other has “G”’s rifle, and is pointing it at the two gentlemen spies. There is one German waiting for a cup of tea with McGeenyton outside, and another fighting Wellington in the middle of the room. Smith is just behind the one fighting Wellington. Von Hubelgliffer and his two lieutenants have just entered by the door.