"You understand the plan?" Colonel Hogan asked, looking over the small group of people.

There were numerous nods and murmurs of "Yes, sir."

"Good. You move in one hour; be ready."

They had to break into a munitions factory just outside of Hammelburg, which was apparently constructing some new kind of weaponry that high command thought would be extra risky to their army, and ideally, the mission was to blow it sky high. Sergeant Carter had been hard at work for weeks constructing new bombs for it (and been as happy about it as a pig in slop), and now things were almost ready.

A few things were worrying Corporal Newkirk about this mission, though; first of all, recently Klink had been more paranoid than usual about making sure none of his prisoners were escaping Stalag 13, so they'd been forced to ask some of the Underground to help them, rather than just using all their own men. It wasn't concern about having to use civilians that concerned the Englander, though, or even paranoia about having to work with strangers he didn't trust as much as his own team. It was the fact that Heidegger was among them.

Adelhard Heidegger was very...passionate about the cause of ending this war and putting a stop to Hitler's antics. He'd actually been in the German army for a while, but eventually become disillusioned about their cause and joined the resistance movement. He'd provided useful information to them, despite never being a very high-ranking soldier, and he never showed evidence of potentially betraying them or anything like that. But there was something Newkirk found himself really disliking about Heidegger.

It was mainly that he always seemed slightly contemptuous of the Heroes and their methods. Of course, he always respected Hogan's plans and never tried to question them...but the way he acted, it was like he was just going along with it to humor them, or that he didn't have any better ideas for how to steal the item/blow up the place/smuggle the people out of Germany/whatever the plan was. And Newkirk told himself maybe it was just that Heidegger was still a little indoctrinated into the idea that his people were the superior race, and old habits died hard. That didn't make him dislike the attitude any less.

Of all of them, though, Heidegger seemed to have the biggest beef with Carter, ever since the first time they'd worked together, when Carter had not only tripped while carrying a loaded gun and nearly shot Heidegger in the foot, but also gotten them lost in the woods while trying to retrieve some escaped prisoners from a different stalag who needed to get to England as soon as possible, and they'd almost gotten caught by the guards before Hogan quickly threw together a plan B.

Everyone had been annoyed with Carter, of course, but Heidegger seemed to have taken his mistakes as a personal insult. He didn't seem to notice how well the sergeant's bombs worked, or the times he successfully carried out orders without damaging anything. He just looked at him with a cold blue stare, oblivious to how Carter would try to placate him with his usual friendliness and innocence that could win over the hardest of hearts.

What had Newkirk really worried, though, was that Heidegger and Carter would have to work together during this mission, playing a colonel and his aide arrived to inspect the facilities (much to the former's indignation, Carter would be playing the colonel). Both were necessary, because Carter had to put in the main bomb and time it to exactly the right moment, and Heidegger had once been stationed at that factory and knew its layout like the back of his hand so he could point out the best places to plant the rest of the bombs, as well as a viable escape route. But Newkirk wished he could be there with them, or even going in Carter's place.

Hogan, who was also staying behind to run interference with Klink in case he wanted to do an emergency check on the prisoners, appeared to be just as worried, though probably not for the same reasons. Probably none of the Underground could see it, though; it would be just his own crew, who were so used to him and his emotions, who would notice the way his jaw and hands kept clenching, or the way he was wisecracking even less than he usually did when he was being serious.

Part of Newkirk suddenly wanted to speak up, tell him that maybe it was a bad idea to have Carter and Heidegger working together. But that was silly, wasn't it? Despite being an unpleasant bloke, Heidegger was a good member of the team, and he wouldn't actually do anything to double-cross them. Besides, Carter had several explosives on him; he could take care of himself. Despite all appearances, he wasn't completely incompetent. They'd be fine.

The clenching in his gut wasn't going away.

The team of men-six in all, counting Carter and Heidegger-would go in separate vehicles to the factory. Three of the men, all part of the Underground, would be disguised as workers who were on the graveyard shift (whatever the Krauts were making in there, they had people at it day and night), and would plant bombs at strategic points through the factory, while Carter and Heidegger would show up in their own, fancier car for a surprise inspection, with another Undergrounder as their driver, to plant the main bomb at the heart of the building. And if all went well, by the end of the night the factory would be destroyed.

Newkirk grimaced at himself; he was jinxing them just by thinking that.

Carter was giving him a look, he noticed as they prepared to leave. Newkirk glanced at him irritably.

"What?"

The younger man frowned.

"You're upset about something. What?"

Newkirk blinked. "What-no I'm not, what makes you think-"

"You're frowning. And your hands are fidgeting like they do when you wish you had some cards in them or things you could juggle so you'd have something to do. That's what they always do when you're nervous or upset about something."

Perceptive.

Newkirk swallowed. "Just a weird feeling, all right? Everything's going to be fine."

Whether he believed it or not, he needed Carter to believe it. Bad enough the poor kid was being stuck with a cold fish who didn't like him and seemed to think he was nothing but an idiot, he didn't need him getting nervous too.

After another second, Carter smiled and squeezed his shoulder quietly, before pulling himself up the tunnel to the tree stump. Newkirk hesitated, wishing he had volunteered to be the driver, feeling that same odd unease, before shaking himself and going back into the barracks.

The drive up was in very uncomfortable silence.

Carter more or less understood the reason for it; Heidegger wasn't much for idle chatter during a mission, and it would make it easier for both of them to get into character as an aloof, important colonel and his lowly aide. Besides, he didn't like Carter. But the silence also made the sergeant a little nervous, and he wished they could at least talk about what they were about to do. He'd learned, though, not to try to engage Heidegger in conversation, after getting his head bitten off by the irate German at least once.

When they arrived at the factory, of course Carter marched in, in full Wehrmacht glory as Colonel Fuhrmann, barking out orders and terrorizing the poor foreman into showing him around. Inside he wanted to apologize for his bad behavior, because nobody deserved to be bullied like this, but he restrained himself.

"...And here is the office, Herr Oberst," said the foreman, opening the door and leading them inside.

Carter instantly walked to the desk and used his riding crop to begin sifting through the pile of papers on the desk, as if he were inspecting them to make sure they were in order.

"You may leave us," he said, without looking up.

"But-but I don't think-" the foreman started to splutter.

Carter didn't bother trying to speak. He just lifted his head up and stared at him coldly for several seconds, until the poor man finally backed out of the doorway and disappeared.

Carter waited until he heard the sound of footsteps walking away down the hall, before breathing a sigh of relief. He looked over at Heidegger, and to his surprise saw that he was being looked at with grudging approval.

"You are very convincing," was all Heidegger said.

"Thanks." Carter straightened up, and dug a bomb out of his coat. "Help me find a good place to plant this."

Heidegger nodded, and began searching.

When that was done, they crept out of the office, carefully shutting the door after them so perhaps the foreman would think they were still inside for at least a little bit, and headed towards the Danger Area to plant the main bomb. Carter made sure to stand up straight and walk confidently, as if he owned the place; any furtiveness or hesitation on his part would automatically open him up to suspicion.

Just continuing to inspect the premises without that nosy dummkopf foreman around…

He projected Colonel Fuhrmann's haughtiness and irritation at being forced to perform this menial chore into his face and body language until he almost felt it himself. Heidegger walked a step behind him, looking every inch the hassled-yet-loyal guard dog he was supposed to be. They saw relatively few people, and even better, were seen by even fewer people.

Of course, their luck was too good to last.

Once they were actually in the Danger Area, they found a good pipe to hide the bomb behind, and Heidegger was standing guard while Carter began wiring it in place, when-

"What are you doing?!" a harsh German voice demanded.

Carter turned around.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, corporal!" he barked at the man who'd asked.

There were two of them, in security officer outfits, with hands warily at their guns but not quite drawing them yet. The one who'd spoken, who Carter now noticed was wearing a sergeant's uniform, looked confused.

"But I'm a sergeant-"

"Not anymore!" he improvised.

It almost worked; there was a moment of hesitation on their parts, before the other one happened to look over Carter's shoulder-and saw the bomb.

"Sound the alarm!" he called out. "Saboteurs!"

With a curse, Heidegger drew his weapon.

Carter found himself at the attention of the sergeant who he'd tried to demote, and with a gun practically jabbing him in the chest.

He swallowed.

And then, figuring he had nothing to lose, he held out one of his fists.

"You see that?" he asked.

The sergeant blinked at it in confusion-before Carter's other fist lashed out and socked him in the jaw.

It was a very calculated risk, since he could have been shot in the attempt. But against all odds, Carter found he had stunned the man enough to twist the gun out of his grip and knock him in the head with the barrel; he crumpled to the ground silently.

"Did you see that?!" he asked excitedly, spinning around. "I've only seen that work with the Three Stooges-"

His grin faded, and he stared with wide eyes at Heidegger-well, technically at the body which was now lying at his feet with a bullet in his brain.

The Undergrounder stared back at him.

"What?" he snapped.

"You-you shot him," Carter stuttered.

Heidegger's face twisted into something between confusion and annoyance.

"We are in a war," he said. "Besides, he would have died anyway when this place explodes. Is the bomb ready?"

Carter forced himself to turn to the bomb, still feeling like he'd been kicked in the stomach. He checked it over, and then adjusted the timer.

"It's ready now," he whispered.

"Good." Heidegger grabbed his arm, and began dragging him away. "We need to go, now."

The two men rushed towards the back of the factory, where Heidegger knew of another exit, just in time for an alarm to start blaring.

Carter still felt sick and shaky; he knew they were in a war, but there was a difference between blowing up someone from a distance, and having to see their lifeless body just seconds after they'd been shot. And even though he was trying to not be a burden, he had a feeling he was going to fall apart when they got back to camp.

Hopefully none of the guys would laugh at him for it.

A man saw them, yelled for them to stop; Heidegger turned and shot him too. Luckily his gun had a silencer.

They weren't bothering with trying to be stealthy or hiding now; now they were running. Carter had set the bombs to go off in five minutes, hopefully giving them and the other people who'd snuck into the factory enough time to get out. Part of him wondered if they could have still gotten away with pretending to be finishing the inspection, and just hoped that no one had noticed the bodies-

His stomach lurched, and he tried not to think about it.

Heidegger pulled him left, right, down a flight of stairs, down a corridor, to the exit-where there was a guard, who was starting to draw his weapon and ask what they were doing there-

Heidegger shot him down, and then was shoving the door open, stepping over the body and yanking Carter out into the cold night.

"The car's out in front," Heidegger growled in frustration, finally releasing Carter. "And we've blown our cover, so we can't just walk out there and pretend like nothing happened."

And 'o's fault is that, mate? Carter's inner Newkirk demanded. You didn't 'ave to turn into a ruddy cowboy and start shooting everyone.

A twisted grin spread across Carter's face for a moment, until he noticed that Heidegger was giving him an odd stare. Just in time for the search lights to come on, and the barking of dogs to start. And these wouldn't be the nice, friendly German shepherds that they had so well-trained back at camp. These would be the kind trained to tear you to shreds.

Think, Carter, think think think...

"We'll have to try the fence," Heidegger was saying.

"It's electrified," Carter murmured.

"Usually it is." The Undergrounder grinned savagely. "I may or may not have cut the power to it while we were planting a bomb in the office."

"Oh." Carter pulled some wire cutters out of his pocket. "Then I didn't bring these for nothing after all."

Heidegger blinked, before grabbing them from him and dragging him towards the fence.

He didn't waste time with trying to be neat in his cutting; he just tore and hacked through the chain links, creating a hole that should be just big enough for one of them at a time.

And then, of course, things went even more to hell.

"Halt!" a voice yelled, and there was the crunching of gravel as feet pounded towards them.

Carter didn't think twice; he shoved Heidegger through, and said, "Run!"

Then he held up his hands in surrender, just in time for the factory to explode.

Ten minutes later, Carter was kneeling on the ground, hands on his head, as the guard who had captured him and a few other survivors of the explosion stood around him.

"What do we do with him?" one of them asked, gesturing at Carter.

"We don't have to do anything. The Gestapo will deal with him."

Carter swallowed quietly, trying not to show the sudden burst of terror this had produced, and hoping the colonel would come up with a plan and get him quickly. Maybe he'd disguise himself as Gestapo and come in person to save him; yeah, that would be just like him. It would be fine; Carter had nothing to worry about.

And there was the Gestapo car now; any second, Colonel Hogan or LeBeau or Newkirk or one of the other guys would step out and take him into 'custody,' and they'd go home and he could try to forget this night had ever happened-

The door opened, and Carter's hopes slowly crumbled into dust as the Gestapo officer came forward and took a good look at him.

"Well, well, well," sneered Hochstetter, his beady eyes glittering with triumph. "What is this man doing here?"

I know, I know. I'm a horrible person, and this is going to make it a lot more difficult for Hogan and co. to figure out how to save Carter. But I saw the opportunity for Hochstetter to use that line in a triumphant manner, and just...couldn't resist.

Don't worry, I don't plan on letting Hochstetter win, or on killing or permanently damaging Carter ( I love Carter too much to do that; he's a total sweetheart). But as you may have noticed, this is quite a bit darker and edgier than the normal show so far. So just be prepared for that.

I looked it up, and chain link fences were invented in the late 1800s, so hopefully they were around and in use during World War II; if not, I apologize for the anachronism. Also, I've kind of been making this up as I go (though I did plan it out at least a little bit first), so just...bear with me, okay?