Cry havoc! and let loose the dogs of war, that this foul deed shall smell above the earth with carrion men, groaning for burial.
Moorish Fortress of Sagres, Culatra Island, Vila do Bispo Municipality, Faro District, Portugal.
A man of medium height and athletic build, clad in black he sat within the shadows of Culatra Islands rocky Western bank.
His peppered white hair slightly too long for the Fatherlands Wehrmacht, his fatigues completely black.
He slipped into the water, drawing a breath and disappeared into the warm Algarve waters, he slowly moved through the water, the man swam in alongside the fortresses lengthy jetty.
Watching the men who patrolled the stone, he slipped silently from the waters, within seconds he lowered two soldiers of Corpo de Fuzileiros into the depths, their lifesblood pouring from their throats.
Crouching the figure drew his silenced pistol and then swiftly darted from shadow to shadow along the jetty, soundlessly putting a round through the skulls of the unsuspecting Portugeuse Marines.
The Reich had no quarrel with the Kingdom of Portugal, not yet, however the British Fleet had laid seige to the Naval citedal of Ilha dos Lagartos of the coast of the city of Póvoa de Varzim in the Norte Region of the nation, apparently in retaliation for undisclosed acts of espionage against the Empire.
The Reich however was unprepared for the British Empire to acquire the secrets contained within the fortress of Sangres.
The figure looked out onto the sea to the North, a faint glint betrayed the position of his craft.
Cursing himself for becoming distracted he turned to see three marines had stepped from the guardhouse, the first of which turned in his direction.
As he fell from the inevitable silent gunshot to the head, the figure glanced back as a sailor stumbled from one of the moored scow, he snapped round and put two rounds onto the man.
The remaining two marines now advanced upon him, but fell as silent rounds carried through the darkness from the North, both collapsing in fountains of blood.
So far the assault had been without sound or alarm, he brought the reapers sleep to the remaining three marines languishing within the guardhouse. He then signalled the boat to the north, a simple quick flash of light and they were upon their way.
Fiction from within the Imperialistic World of Prime Reality and the Scope.
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