<div class="floatright">(https://cdn.counter-currents.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/WilliamJoyce.jpg)</div><hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Wallace Aiden Burthold-Campbell<br/><strong>Nationality:</strong>British Citizen<br/><strong>Actions:</strong>Investigate (+4d6), Flashback (-2d6), Rolled a 4 &3<br/><hr/><br/>Wallace started to look around but felt a shiver of recognition. He’d been at this rail yard before.. or rather another HIM had been. He could feel the blade cutting his cheek from a dagger thrust as the scents of the rail yard filled his mind, a more active one than the dead quiet one they were in.<br/><br/><em>The night was filled with a myriad of smells and sounds, bright flashes as ‘grease gun’ fight fought with German rifles. He’d stepped around the railcar and into a charging nazi. The two of them had crashed together and in the ensuing tussle had lost their guns and were fighting over the nazi’s dress daggger. <br/><br/>He felt a burning sensation as the dagger pushed in under the younger man’s weight, grating against the bone as he hammered a desperate blow in the enemy’s diaphragm and rolled him over and shoved the dagger in the soldier’s throat as the fuel depot exploded on the other side of the rail yard. </em><br/><br/>Wallace snapped back to HIS world, not the<em>counterpart’s</em>, as he took in a shaky breath. Grateful that he’d let the other’s take the lead as he struggled not to lose his pen or journal.<br/><br/><em>Christ, I could use a drink or six now.</em>He thought as he ducked behind Briggs and Dupond, while lighting a cigarette with a shaky hand as he pushed the memory away.